#this is the worst time for me to focus on inside job but whatever keeps me sane <3!

[tenpixelsusie]

hey so i [projectile sobbing]

[Inside Job Part 1 Episode 10 - Inside Reagan]

[be-good-to-bugs]

maybe i WILL get to move back home

[anystalker707]

Together?

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender neutral] Reader Summary: Hanging out after a busy night at Baratie. Tags: Bitter sweet / Sanji is very loving / Boyfriend material / Sanji needs to hear some truths

MASTERLIST

          “They’ve lost their minds,” Sanji said in a lower voice tone as he stepped closer to you while you stirred the boiling sauce without taking your eyes off it—a little distraction could ruin a job of hours, and you’d learned that the worst way. “Oregano does not go in everything,” he whispered next to your ear while looking over your shoulder to check what you were doing. He never criticized your job, of course, unless he were to say something about how you should stop following the recipes and orders so strictly, but you knew better than that. Seeing what happened with Sanji for it was enough of a lesson.

“Just shut up and cook,” you sighed as you put the pan on the counter and replaced it with another of boiling water on the stove, already getting the next dish started.

Sanji huffed as he showed you a plate of what he’d done. It was certainly nothing from the menu. “Try it.”

You didn’t stop what you were doing, still adding the vegetables to the plates and covering them with sauce as you opened your mouth and let Sanji feed you a piece of whatever he’d prepared. The sweet taste of the pastry contrasted very well with the savory flavor of the filling, which probably consisted of some sort of fish and a rich sauce. You took your time to savor it before you nodded.

“That’s great, Sanji.” You nodded as you finished the dishes and called one of the waiters to say that table 11’s order was ready. “Like, great,” you tried to express, but it was hard since you were always complimenting Sanji’s cooking a lot. “Above the usual.”

Despite how you moved around so fast to keep up with the orders, Sanji still followed you with that plate in hand. “At least you have some sense, but Zeff—”

“We got orders piling in,” Zeff’s voice spoke over the loud clanking and chattering of the kitchen, as if on cue. “That means no one slacking off!”

Sanji knew it was mainly directed at him, of course. He pressed his lips together and huffed, shaking his head. He grabbed the last piece of what he’d cooked and fed it to you before he walked away.

          In comparison to the open hours, the Baratie could actually be very quiet during the late night hours. The mess and euphoria took another tone and another focus. The loud chatter and music coming from the bar could only be heard faintly in the docks area. No one used to arrive at such late night hours, and the crowd was concentrated at the bar, so it would be quite peaceful there. Watching the moon’s reflection on the calm water was soothing.

The relative silence was disrupted by a pattern of footsteps that you knew very well. “I’m going to be reduced to being a fucking chore-boy at some point,” Sanji said as he eventually stopped and took a seat next to you, on the wooden platform of the dock, feet also hanging from the edge. His breathing was a little out of pace and his forehead was a little sweaty, so he had probably been off doing extra chores as some sort of punishment by Zeff. He sighed as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a cigarette.

You hummed softly. “Hm, maybe.”

Sanji was about to light his cigarette, but he paused and looked at you, dead in the eyes, frozen. “(Y/n), I—”

“No, hear me out!” You sat up properly, trying to come up with a way of saying it in as few words as possible to prevent Sanji from freaking out before you were finished. He looked so cute while angrily trying to get his lighter to work, spinning the sparkwheel with more strength than necessary, sending sparkles flying in the night darkness until he was finally able to light his cigarette. “It’s not that no one recognizes your talent or something, Sanji,” you sighed. “Zeff knows you’re good.”

Sanji furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing you in disbelief, but with that edge of sarcasm.

You observed him for a long moment. “Honestly, what do you want with your life?”

“The All Blue,” Sanji answered without missing a beat. The tip of his cigarette glowed in the dark as he took a drag of it, holding the smoke before slowly exhaling.

“Yeah. How do you expect to achieve it, though?” You raised an eyebrow.

There were a few attempts to answer. A couple of unfinished words came from Sanji as he opened his mouth a few times, but he never properly came up with anything, instead looking off to the sea after returning his cigarette to his lips.

“Exactly,” you said. “You—”

“What does it have to do with anything?” Sanji scoffed.

A silence filled in for a moment as you observed Sanji, trying to wonder what was going on in that mind of his. Sometimes, you wanted to hit him upside the head to check if that’d do anything, maybe shake up his brain and make it work for life the way it worked for food prep.

“Do you think you can find the All Blue by being a chef in the Baratie?” You asked honestly, not really putting effort into sounding all kind and sweet. “What good will it do if you just continue here, being a cook, settled down? It’s so easy to notice that Zeff is trying to push you off, so you can go do something greater, Sanji! He won’t say it directly because both of you are so stubborn, but it’s so clear!”

“But he—”

“He’s a retired pirate,” you cut in. “He’s already lived his life, and the Baratie is what he wants for now, but you? He knows you’re strong and determined. Sometimes he does stuff just to see if you’ll leave and actually do something because you’re so stubborn!”

Sanji clicked his tongue, cursing under his breath as he took another drag of his cigarette. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “How can you even be so sure of it? I’m just not wanted.”

He was so tiring. A sharp sigh escaped your nose as you looked away, shaking your head.

“Even so, do you want to be here your whole life?” You looked at him again. It was hard seeing his face through his hair and in the dark, but you had an idea of the face he might be making. “The world is so big, Sanji. There’s so much to see and live. It sounds a little pathetic, spending your life in a restaurant while you can do much more. While other people are around traveling, partying, discovering things. Living.”

Silence settled in for a second as you thought. Just the idea of all the things you’d heard or read about in the newspapers made your muscles ache to just steal a boat and start sailing.

Everything sounded quieter, suddenly. Your eyes were fixed on the moon as it stood high in the sky, half full, with a trembling image reflected on the dark sea. Maybe the sky also looked different in other places of the world.

“I wish I could even be a pirate,” you said softly, carefully. “That a pirate crew would recruit me. Let me be anything, even if not a cook, let me go with them to explore and see more things out there.” Another pause. “Don’t you wish the same, Sanji?”

No answer came in for a long moment. Smoke continued coming from Sanji as he sat there, almost unmoving.

“Really?” His voice was quiet.

“Of course.”

Sanji was quiet again. He could be mysterious sometimes. Certain subjects or mentions would often make him just fall silent and thoughtful. “Then we should go together.”

“Together?” You mumbled.

“I wouldn’t go without you,” Sanji said quietly, adjusting his posture with a sigh. There were unsaid words, of course, but words that you already knew very well. No one really gave him attention or help like you did, not to mention that if there was someone aside from Zeff who he’d actually turn to, that’d be you. It took someone to calm Sanji’s thoughts or at least help him organize them, and that’d usually be you as well.

“Great,” you stated. Your eyes didn’t even dart his way as you spoke. “I don’t think I’d let you, either.”

A sensation of accomplishment took over both of you, managing to dissolve most of the tension that was going on. Both of you had reached an agreement, even if unspoken, taking away part of the worries that clouded your minds. Even if you didn’t say it, you were always on the edge about Sanji leaving, running away in the middle of the night, and leaving you behind with nothing more than worries.

You finally looked away from the sky, observing the sea under you, and then your gaze fell on Sanji’s hand resting some inches away from your thigh. He would wear rings when he wasn’t cooking, and he always had nice ones. He didn’t even flinch when you grabbed his hand to get the ring he had around his index finger; he was already used to you taking his rings, sometimes returning them days later or just keeping them.

“Pretty,” you mumbled as you admired the details engraved on it. Shamefully, it hung loose around all of your fingers, so you ended up sliding it back on his finger. He grabbed your hand before you could pull it away, though.

Sanji tugged on your hand a little, so you moved closer and let him wrap an arm around you. He put out his cigarette against the wood once it reached the filter. “Why do you take my things, hm?” He raised an eyebrow.

You thought for a moment, and it was difficult to actually come to a conclusion about that. “I’m not sure,” you said softly. Maybe it was the need to have anything of his with you. Feel even closer to him.

“Not afraid I’ll get angry at you?”

With a scoff, you shook your head. “You never get angry at me. I’m too pretty for you to get angry at me.”

The way Sanji took a moment to observe you and then faced away with a sigh made you chuckle victoriously. “That doesn’t mean you should be doing that!” He clicked his tongue, but the annoyance he had wasn’t anything but feigned. A sigh escaped his lips as he visibly relaxed a little, shoulders dropping from their tense stance. “You’re not leaving without me, right?” Sanji muttered into your ear.

“Only if you don’t leave without me.” You raised your eyebrows lightly as you looked at him.

Sanji smiled with a proud air, nodding faintly. He leaned in, but you placed a hand over his mouth and turned his head away before anything could happen.

“You know I hate it when you kiss me right after a cigarette!” You pulled your hand away as he started chuckling.

“Only a little one? Pretty please?” Sanji’s attempts to make a dramatic sad face kept failing since he kept laughing at the glares you sent him. “Come on! I got no kisses today! How am I supposed to live without a kiss from you, hm? Hm?” He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, kissing your cheek a few times, knowing how all of those made you start melting into his arms. You sighed with a soft groan, turning your face until you could finally meet his lips and give him the kiss he wanted so much.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[laurentidal]

Ms. Opal

When Jenkins had hired the pretty young girl as his secretary, a lot of the other women in the office felt threatened. Penny was that youngest among them by probably a decade, and she immediately began getting extra attention from all of the men in the office. The older assistants were all great at their jobs and they were treated well, but they also enjoyed being flirted with just a little by the bosses.

That all stopped when Penny arrived.

Any flirting that was done, was done to her. Any conversations to be had were had with her. Any spare time was spent with her. And worst of all, any bonuses that were awarded were awarded to her. That was really the last straw.

Tabitha, one of the most senior members of the secretarial pool, brought her concerns to Jenkins himself. She explained that four months had gone by since Penny joined them and not a single secretary had received any bonuses except her. She claimed that this was blatant favoritism and that it had to stop. Jenkins tried to put her mind at ease by telling them that Penny had been assigned certain duties that the other secretaries didn't have. He admitted that this may have given her an unfair advantage. To solve this, they were going to have Penny train a few of the older assistants to do the same job and re-balance the incentives.

Tabitha left the office feeling validated. She had always respected Jenkins, and she was happy that he had listened to her concerns.

The next day, Penny sat herself on Tabitha's desk just before lunch.

"Ricky told me I'm supposed to bring you up to speed," she said, voice almost dripping with sweetness. Tabitha had spoken to Penny before, and - for her part - she definitely understood why the men favored her. That didn't mean she had to like it.

"Oh," she replied. "I didn't realize I was one of the ones he wanted retrained. But sure! I'm happy to take on whatever they need."

"I suggested you," Penny said, and Tabitha swore she was her eyes flick down to her chest and hips. "I think you've got what it takes."

"Well thank you," Tabitha blushed, not really knowing why. She stood and followed Penny back to one of the unused offices. Penny closed the door, leaving them isolated. She again sat herself on top of the desk in this room. Tabitha couldn't help but admire the way she looked perched there on high. She took a seat in the chair in front of her.

Below her.

"How long have you worked here, Tabitha?"

"Eight years," she answered, staring up at the woman who seemed to loom over her, despite her short stature. Penny's foot lightly brushed against Tabitha's leg, catching her attention. She glanced down at it as Penny began to swing it lazily back and forth. When had she kicked her shoes off?

"You must know this place inside and out. I am not about admitting a mistake. I should have brought you onboard first thing. I apologize."

"I appreciate that," Tabitha replied, unsure where this was going. She absently pulled her own shoes off with her feet as she continued to watch Penny's.

"It must have been so frustrating seeing me succeeding so quickly. You must have been all knotted up about it. But now you can relax. We're on the same team."

"Same team…"

"That's right, Tabby. You and I want the same thing. We should get along. We should be focused on the task at hand."

"Focus…"

Tabitha had always hated the name Tabby. Jenkins had called her that on her first day and she'd told him in no uncertain terms to never do it again. But she didn't mind it from Penny.

"My goodness you are suggestible. I'm impressed you were able to go stand up to Ricky with how easily you're going under here. Though I guess it did take a few months. No, no, Tabby. Keep looking at my pretty foot. That's where your eyes want to be. Stare at my smooth swinging foot and my pretty painted toes while I tell you about the job."

"Pretty…"

"I've taken the minds of all the men in this office. They don't really need them for anything, after all. They all watched my feet and dropped so deep. They sucked my toes and licked my cunt and padded out my bank account. You're going to do two of those things for me today. Then I'm going to resign."

Tabby just watched and nodded.

"I've had my fun here, and you deserve the position more than me. When I hand in my notice, I will instruct all my little office slaves to obey you the same way they obey me. You're the office siren now, Tabitha Opal. I will tell you Ricky is the best fuck and Bill has the best tongue. Jon isn't really worth your time. Beside, it fun to leave him needy. Now. On your knees so you can thank me properly."

In the weeks ahead, Penny served out the duration of her notice. The other women were thrilled to have a level playing field back. Tabby started dressing a little less conservatively. She found clothes that accented her curves, and even without Penny's parting gift, she could have gotten almost anything she wanted from her bosses.

Her daily meetings with Ricky became much more fun. She even began to notice some of the other secretaries in ways she hadn't before. She felt she'd been awakened. She wondered if Cindy's pussy tasted as good as Penny's had. She kicked off her shoes and went to sit on Cindy's desk.

"How would you like to be part of a special department?"

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[missywritesfor7]

🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 13: New Old Memories ||

Luna can’t tell if she’s sleeping or if that vampire going through her portal was the final push needed for it to kill her. Whatever it is, she’s suspended in a dark and quiet space surrounded by nothingness. She can’t move or make a sound, she can only float along with nothing but the thoughts in her mind.

She wishes she at least knew if she were still alive or not so she won’t have to remain in fear. All she can remember is yelling and then everything faded to nothing. Did Jungkook or one of the other guys kill the vampire? Did the vampire manage to run off with her somehow? What if she’s left in the house dead along with her parents?

Suddenly the view around her changes. The black abyss has turned into her parents’ house. Not in present day, but it’s how the house was when she was much younger. Strangely she’s able to walk around as if she had been transported back in time. She steps inside and finds her younger self on the floor of the living room playing with an assortment of toys.

“Hey,” she whispers to her younger self but there’s no response. “Am I a ghost?”

Her younger self gets up after a moment and runs through her to her parents room.

“Ok I’m definitely a ghost or something,” she mumbles following her younger self.

Suddenly she remembers this day. She was 5 years old and this was the day she overheard her mom crying about “Luna” but not her. That was the day her mom told her about her best friend Luna who she was named after.

“My Luna,” her mom’s voice can be heard through the door where 5 year old Luna stands listening a bit before entering the room. “What can I do? How do I protect her from the same fate? How do I protect her when I’m not even sure what he looks like? How did you not know what he was? I need you, Luna.”

“I’m right here, mommy,” young Luna says finally entering the room. “What’s wrong?” She asks noticing her mom’s tears.

“Oh nothing, honey,” her mom says wiping her her face and pulling Luna into her lap on the bed. “I was just thinking about my best friend Luna.”

“Your best friend has the same name as me?”

“Yeah,” her mom says softly. “I named you after her.”

“Really? Why?”

“I loved her like she was my sister, so when you were born…she passed away. I wanted to name you after her to keep her memory alive.”

“Oh,” young Luna says not fully understanding.

She understands it now though. The many times her mom would tell her that she reminds her of her best friend more and more. But something she hadn’t thought much of before was what her mom was saying before she ran into the room. What did she mean by “How did you not know what he was?” as if there were a previous relationship with the vampire who did this.

She was confused before but now she’s even more confused. If her birth mom already knew the vampire then what was the nature of their relationship? Why did it end with him killing her and her birth father? More importantly, what happened to him after? Is he still out there somewhere?

Suddenly the room around her disappears and she finds herself in the middle of another memory. She’s 7 years old and sitting in the emergency room. This was the day her eye turned red out of the blue. She had gotten into a disagreement with one of the girls in her class for a reason she can’t even remember. All Luna knows is she got upset and started yelling at the girl. In her tirade, her eye somehow turned red and scared the girl into crying to the teacher. The teacher thought Luna had hit the girl until she noticed her eye. Luna was sent directly to the nurse where her parents were called to come pick her up.

Unsure of what would cause her eye to suddenly change color, her parents took her to the emergency room fearing the worst. She was inspected inside and out puzzling everyone that laid eyes on her.

Luna watches the memory play out right before her eyes. Her younger self is sitting on the hospital bed while her parents sit in two chairs next to her. The doctor left the room to check the results of the many tests they ran on her. Her parents are speaking in a low voice, though not quite low enough for Luna to not hear. She was scared, but she was trying to be brave the way her favorite show taught her.

As before, she was so young and didn’t have the knowledge she has now, that she never thought anything of what her parents were saying. She heard every word but never once thought twice about it.

“Why did this happen so suddenly?” Her dad asks her mom.

“I don’t know,” her mom whispers. “Do you think that maybe it’s a….side effect?”

“Why would it show up 7 years later?” He asks perplexed. “Wouldn’t she be born with something like that?”

“I don’t know any more about this than you do. It’s not like there’s a guide out there that tells us how these things work.”

“What if it doesn’t go away? Would she be more noticeable? Would she be safe?”

Her mom looks at him worried about the fact that she really doesn’t have an answer. Before she can respond, the doctor returns looking just as puzzled as everyone else.

The doctor explains that all of Luna’s tests came back normal. He can’t explain why her eye is red or why it suddenly appeared, but his only theory is that it’s some type of birth defect. Though it seems completely harmless, he wants to continue seeing Luna regularly to see if there are any changes.

When he leaves the room her parents begin whispering to each other again. Young Luna is more concerned about the harrowing thought of having to walk around with different colored eyes than she is about whatever her parents are talking about.

“It has to be a side effect,” her mom whispers. “If it doesn’t go away we’ll have to figure out a way to keep her safe.”

Luna remembers the fear and uncertainty of her parents. She had no idea the full gravity of the situation, but after this day her parents came up with the idea to have her wear contacts. Each day they would make sure she didn’t leave home without them.

Despite the contacts, the damage at school had already been done. Many kids in her class witnessed everything so rumors were already flying by the time she returned. Kids called her all kinds of names and treated her like a monster. She felt like an outcast and begged her parents day in and day out to let her change schools but they always told her no.

Sitting through this memory again has unlocked deep feelings that Luna had stored away for a long time. The painful elementary years brings tears to her eyes. She doesn’t know why she’s seeing this and reliving it all again, but when she sees her younger self crying she can’t help but do so too. She slowly approaches her younger self and wraps her arms around her. She can’t be seen, heard, or felt in this state, but she sits there embracing and crying with herself anyway.

Jungkook hasn’t sat still since he returned home. Luna has been unconscious for hours now and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The rest of the guys have since returned and stopped by to check Luna’s condition.

Jimin returned with Luna’s backpack of things that she had packed from her parents house. Yoongi collected a few things from the leftover ash of the now 3 vampires that lay dead in the house. When they felt all was clear, Taehyung took it upon himself to anonymously call authorities to come to the house and collect the bodies of Luna’s parents. He knows it could possibly cause an entire investigation once they’re found and they see that Luna is missing, but he couldn’t stand to let the bodies of her parents remain there abandoned like nothing. If he could do anything for Luna, he wanted to be able to do that.

After leaving her parents house they went searching for anyone using the portal near her work building. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait long before someone appeared right before them. They ambushed the guy and Namjoon brought him back and imprisoned him. They’ll interrogate him, but stopped to check in on Luna first. Yoongi tells Jungkook to continue giving her blood hoping that could help and let them know if her condition changes. The good news is at least she’s still alive.

Now Jungkook is alone with her struggling to make sense of things. He can’t figure out why this happened and why she still won’t wake up. He’s been trying to remain calm, but the more time goes by, the more he feels his soul dying.

He’s blaming himself again. He feels he could have been better, faster, and stronger than he was. He should have been able to save her parents and he should have been able to save her. How can he call himself a shield of anything?

He looks down at Luna’s face and notices a tear sneaking out of the corner of her eye. He stares a moment thinking he’s seeing things, but then more tears start to fall.

“Are you crying?” He asks to no response. “Are you awake? Why are you crying? Are you in pain?”

She still doesn’t respond. Only silent tears streaming down her face. Something about this sight has Jungkook struggling with his own emotions and he can’t for the life of him determine why.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers transforming into his bunny form and curling up next to her. He lays there catching her tears on his back and hiding his own until he falls asleep.

Luna is slightly relived when the painful memory of her childhood finally fades away. She’s then thrown in the middle of another memory, though this doesn’t look familiar to her at all.

It takes a moment but she realizes she’s in Korealis now. This certainly can’t be a memory of hers. She’s in the hallway of a school where she sees a little boy sitting on the floor against the wall.

“Jungkook?” She says recognizing his large eyes and round face.

Of course, he can’t hear her, but he does begin to hear a couple of teachers talking in another room.

“I don’t know why they have him enrolled in this school,” one teacher says. “We can’t do anything with him.”

“I guess his dad wanted him to try being a normal kid,” another teacher says. “I don’t know how, but he convinced the dean to accept him although he’s supposed to be in the Royal Academy.”

“Why would the dean make an exception for the man who got the late king killed? If this kid is going to be the next generation of royal shield then shouldn’t he be at the royal academy so he can be better than his failure of a father? We can’t give him that type of training.”

“Maybe he’s trying to create a new generation of failures,” the teacher laughs. “I don’t know why they let him keep his position. My nephew could protect the king better than that. He certainly wouldn’t let him die.”

“I feel bad for the kid. He doesn’t have a chance.”

Young Jungkook remains in the hallway clutching his knees. He uses everything in him to hold back his tears. This isn’t the first time he’s heard someone talking about his father being a failure, but he doesn’t understand why he has to go to a school where almost everyone thinks that. If he were at the Royal Academy as he should be he wouldn’t have to deal with this.

Luna looks on helplessly as young Jungkook silently cries to himself. The scene changes and now he’s crying to himself in his bedroom. The same bedroom Luna has become familiar with, except at this moment it’s filled with toys and typical decorations for a young boy.

His father enters the room with a slight limp and sits at the edge of the bed attempting to comfort Jungkook.

“What’s wrong?” His dad asks.

“I don’t want to go to that school,” Jungkook pouts. “Why do I have to go to that stupid school?”

“What happened?”

“The teachers called you a failure!” Jungkook says in frustration. “Why do you make me go there when everyone hates you?! Why do you make me go there and listen to that? I told you I didn’t want to go there!”

“Jungkook-“

“Why did you let the king die?!”

His dad pauses in shock at Jungkook’s outburst. He hangs his head a moment searching for the words to say.

“Jungkook,” he dad says softly. “I told you what happened. I told you I did everything I could. I wasn’t perfect, I admit that, but I did the best I could to uphold my duty. I sacrificed my leg to ensure the safety of this kingdom.”

“But why does everyone hate you? Why does everyone hate me? I didn’t even do anything!”

“Son, receiving hate from those who know no better is part of being a shield. Let that be your motivation to be better. Be better than me.”

“I will!” Jungkook says with conviction. “I’ll be much better so people won’t say the same bad things about me!”

“I know you will.”

The scene suddenly changes and Luna is in the sparring room. It looks slightly different, but there’s Jungkook in the corner lifting weights. He’s a little older now and much stronger, though nowhere near as strong as he is in present day. His father enters the room with a troubled look on his face.

“Jungkook,” he says trying to get his attention.

Jungkook grunts without looking up. He continues lifting weights as if his father isn’t there.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“No,” Jungkook grumbles.

“Jung-“

“I said no!” He slams the weights down and gets up attempting to walk past his father and out of the room.

“We’re not going to keep going through this!” His father shouts. He grabs Jungkook’s arm and gets close to his face. “I know you’ve been having a hard time, but you can’t keep getting into fights because people say something you don’t like.”

“It’s your fault that I keep getting into fights!” Jungkook huffs. “Everyone thinks I’m nothing because of you so I had to show them! I’m sick of hearing the same shit every day about you and things that I have nothing to do with. I’m not you and I’m going to make sure they remember that!”

“I know you’re not me,” his father sighs. “But please, Jungkook, you have to stop getting into fights. A royal shield cant get into trouble the way you’ve been lately.”

“Why should I care? According to everyone else you already set the bar so low so what difference does it make if I get into fights? You may be ok letting people talk shit about you, but I’m making sure they never curse my name like that.”

“I understand that, but I’m trying to keep you from letting your emotions give people a reason to talk about you the way they talk about me. I’m tough, Jungkook, I can handle it. You need to learn to do so too!”

“I am handling it!”

“No, you’re letting it consume you! If you want to be angry about something someone said then fine, but channel that energy into your training!”

Luna stands by in shock. Not only because of what she’s seeing, but why is she seeing it? This obviously is Jungkook’s memory, not her’s. How is this even possible?

“Is that why mom left?” Jungkook says in frustration. “Because all you were doing was channeling your energy into training instead of being an emotionally available husband and father?” As soon as those words leave Jungkook’s mouth he instantly knows he messed up.

His father’s rage can be seen clearly on his face. He raises his hand and summons a force field that surrounds Jungkook and holds him in place.

“You know NOTHING about why your mother chose to leave!” His father roars. “And it would be in your best interest to watch what you say to me or you will quickly find out how much damage I can do with this prosthesis!”

Jungkook hangs his head in silence. This isn’t the first time he’s upset his father, but this is the first time he’s seen that look of rage on his fathers face. If he was ever to learn a lesson about controlling his emotions, it’s right now.

“If you have something you want to say to me,” his father continues. “Then you say it, but I will NOT allow you to be disrespectful towards me! I don’t care how upset you are! This is exactly the thing I’m trying to teach you, son! Your temperament will get you in trouble, and if you ever talk to me like that again it will be the last thing you do! I will suck you dry of everything you have if you ever disrespect me again, is that understood?!”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook says softly.

“Now get out of here and go to your room. I don’t want to have this conversation with you again!”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook repeats.

His father removes the force field and storms out of the room. Jungkook stands there a moment trying to gather himself, then he quickly retreats to his room. Once he shuts the door he instantly changes to his bunny form and curls up under his blanket on the bed.

Everything around Luna fades and once again she’s suspended in a dark abyss.

“Jungkook…” Luna whispers sympathetically.

[redroom-rainbowguts]

A Little Mistake

Word count: 657

Tw: noncon surgery, drugging, suicidal ideation

Grey shouldn't, he really knows he shouldn't, but he can't help himself. He already planned to give you a heavy cocktail of God knows what- you'd lost that fight the second you first caught his eye- but the "medicine" he drips into your veins feels...different this time. He swears it was a mistake!

You know his panic is an act. In the time Grey has kept you stuck here, you've come to know him well enough to know he doesn't make mistakes. Double checking, even triple checking each label, he's careful and meticulous in his treatment towards you.

Hell, why did he even use general anesthesia on your chest if he wasn't planning on fucking around in there? Again. At this point you were more scar tissue than person.

Whatever else he gave you was kicking in, dragging you down into a haze of discomfort and confusion. There's an odd feeling. Not pain per se, but a pulling. A tightness. Ugh, he's cutting you open. You've grown all too familiar with the feeling, the pressure, of a cold scalpel on anesthetized skin.

A long, slow blink and his hand was inside you, droplets of blood collecting on his scrubs like rain on a window. His brows were furled. In this moment, you could almost see the man you once thought he was. An excellent student, a great problem solver, someone who did everything in his power to study how to make things better.

"Too long, need to pump-"

What was he saying? Feeling odd. Cold. There's a blurred shape over you. Shivering. So cold.

Pressure. Pressure! PRESSURE!

The world is sharply forced back into focus, and your eyes fall to his hands, both buried deep inside you now. He's... He's... Oh God you can feel him. He's manually pumping your heart. Every single beat was wrung purely from his ministrations. What were you now, if not a puppet whose existence depended solely on this man's hands controlling your insides?

"I always wanted your heart to beat for me, but perhaps it's better to keep that figurative, mm?"

If your body wasn't so numb, so infuriatingly heavy, you'd kick that goofy smile off his face. Always telling jokes at the worst possible time.

"O-oh, hold on."

Shit, the "medicine" was wearing off, granting you a (for once unwanted) degree of mobility, and Grey could see your disgust. He's... Embarrassed? Ashamed? No. He's caught. Caught being what you already knew him to be: a creepy, disgusting bastard who cares more about himself than-

Ohhh. He's given you something else. The world feels distant, deliciously softened by the drugs coaxing your brain into a dreamy lucidity. The haze feels good. It used to be frightening, but now, compared to the alternative, this haze was downright bliss. He's holding something. It's blurry, but you can just barely see that whatever it is, it's pulsing.

If you had the ability you would've jumped. Grey was close now, breath an odd mixture of mint, lemon, and... metal? He's planting kisses all over your face, muttering something about how strong and beautiful you are. He nuzzles your nose with his, then climbs up onto the gurney with you. Is your chest still splayed open? Did he put everything back where it belongs? Grey has tucked his face into the crook of your neck, and you're too heavy to sit up and check. He's snoring too, holding you with the iron grip of a scared child seeking comfort from their favorite plushy.

You look away, even your unfocused vision can't save you from the familiar half smile he only wears when you're incapacitated and bleeding.

The thought pops, leaving you empty and confused.

Even if he never finished the job, you'll have to wait for him to wake up. A piece of you hopes he never does,

but a bigger piece hopes he did forget, and you won't live long enough to find out.

[nel-world]

hi- set

It's been three days since I lost the pool key, and now my mom is mad at me. It feels like she has a superpower that keeps her angry without a break whenever I mess up, which is why I try my best to never do anything wrong.

It's like there's a flashing neon sign on my forehead: "HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING KID WHO LOST THE POOL KEY. $50 DOWN THE DRAIN!"

I try to explain to her that Cindy and I put up twenty flyers all over, and I understand that fifty dollars is equivalent to three hundred and fifty tomans in Iran, which is a lot of money to flush down the toilet. That's what it'll feel like if we have to pay the landlady.

"Why don't you check the clothes dryer and all your pockets?" my dad suggests, im filled with hope. I search through all my clothes, inspecting the washer and dryer, even go through the vacuum cleaner bag. I c heck between the sofa cushions and manage to find twelve cents.

But still, no pool key. The following day, my dad suggests praying to Saint Anthony, claiming it always works. "Saint Anthony, you mean?" I ask.

My mom , suggests we ask Saint Anthony to come over and look for the key instead. "He's a saint, so he's been dead for a long time," I tell her. "If you think a dead man is going to help you find the key, good luck," she retorts.

but I decide to pray, and, my prayers are answered when a neighbor finds the key gives it to the apartment office.

//

When I was a kid, I had this bright yellow Yamaha YZ80 dirt bike. It was super fast, and I loved riding it around. But my mom hated it.

"Josep, you ride that thing, and I swear to God you’re going to die!" she'd yell at me. And I'd be like, "Mom, it's fine. I'm totally safe." But she wasn't having it.

"What, do you want to die? Is that it? Ha?" she'd say. And I'd respond, "No, Mom, I don't want to die." But then she'd hit me with, "Or maybe you want to kill me from worrying. Yes, that’s it—you want to kill me." And I'd just stand there like, "No, Mom, I don’t want to kill you."

But she wasn't done. "No, no, maybe it’s better if I die anyway. I go to heaven, at least I don’t have to worry anymore. Go ahead, keep riding the motorcycle." And I'd be like, "Fine. Fine! I won’t ride the motorcycle anymore!" But let's be real, I kept riding that motorcycle.

One time, a cop caught me riding the bike without headlights. He was really mad and told me to leave the bike and get in his car. I thought I was in big trouble, preparing myself for the worst—prison, electric chair, death by firing squad—whatever it was. I'm practically begging to go to jail at this point, but no dice.he took me home.

take me to jail.. dont take me to my mom .. 

When we got to my house, my mom was freaking out because she thought I was missing. She was yelling at my sisters, too. The cop could hear everything, but he didn't seem to care. He walked me up to the door, and my mom answered, acting all polite.

But as soon as she saw me, she flipped out. She dragged me inside and slammed the door in the cop's face. That was the only time my mom ever hit me, but it wasn't physical. It was all the yelling and arguing that really hurt.

//

My mom supported me when I was in Starmites, she cheered me when I lost my voice and got it back again, and she never, ever suggested I stop messing around with theater and focus on something more practical. There were a few times she didn’t back my dreams, though. Back in freshman year of high school I’d asked her if I could be in the color guard, spinning flags and doing dance routines out on the field. I figured it would be fun. I figured she’d support me. “Mommy, I want to do color guard.” “The what? No.” “Why not?” “You’re an actor, you don’t have time to be twirling flags.”

I was supposed to spend my gas money driving you around so you could twirl a flag? There’s no future in that! You can’t get a job twirling a flag!” “What?” “What kind of job were you gonna get from twirling a damn flag? Huh? Were you gonna go from office building to office building raising their flag every morning? That’s not a salary position.”

Yellow highlight | Location: 595

She went on a fifteen-minute rant about the color guard, I swear to God. It may have even been twenty minutes. She was still livid. “What I look like wasting my gas for you to twirl a damn flag?” She did hate wasting gas. Color guard wasn’t my life dream, and I wasn’t devastated that she wouldn’t let me do it, but still. Some parents might say the same things about acting: there’s no future in it and it’s a waste of gas money. Not my mom. She saw a future in acting for me! Or I thought so. A few years after college, when I was working odd jobs and doing some local theater, my mom decided to lay this one on me, out of nowhere: “Dulcé, maybe you should have double-majored in business….”

[shroomidude]

“I died and then I woke up again, that's just how it was. I should've been dead and I woke up again.”

“It felt like being thrown out of a bad dream, you know? That panicky energy you feel afterwards, as you sit and wonder whether or not you're still alive. Like an almost out of body experience, I guess you could call it. Well, I thought I'd meet the end the way my Ma always told me I'd meet it. "It" is hell, in this case. My mother was… a bit of a religious nut case. Instead, I was met with an elevator.”

“That elevator…”

She lets out a deep, stressed sigh. Her brows are furrowed, the words trying to come to mind.

“It was surrounded by smoke, and I was drawn to it. There was something…off about it. I couldn't focus at all because my mind was still spinning. But, for some reason, I was walking towards the doors. With my head high and chest puffed, I was walking towards the elevator. And it opened for me, I didn't push a button or anything. As I walked towards it, those doors were opening. I stopped just outside of its entrance, and it made that familiar elevator ding.

For whatever reason, that little noise calmed me. I suddenly felt like I was at home. Well, I walked inside that box, for whatever reason I was confident as could be. My hand moved on its own and pushed the button. I think I blacked out, maybe?”

“Then I remember waking up inside the elevator, and I knew who the man in the room with me was. I don't think I'd ever met him before. His name was Gideo— well, is Gideon. He was apparently working with me, which at the time I don't think I should've known. It's not like he would've told me we were working together himself, he's a prick. I just knew. Exactly like how I knew what I was doing in the elevator, and I knew what the markings on me were.

I don't think I've ever felt so calm in a situation so jarring. There were so many things happening at once and yet I could only feel that spinning sensation. If what I knew was true, I should've been going mad in that elevator. It wasn't a god, no. It was Heldocht, something far beyond me. Well, this was around the time I realized I hopped from one life to another, more complicated one. Somehow I managed to squeeze in a forever job along with it.

Which really wasn't the worst. It was lonely, sure. It's not like Gideon hung around much. But he had his own things to do, I believe. I was “fixed” to be able to handle lack of interaction, and general loneliness, among some other things. I could handle those huge feelings far better than I could when I was alive. At the time I barely felt at all. It's a strange adjustment process, within the elevator. You have to find your own way to properly feel again. It’s like it erased bits of my identity so I could change for it. To become better….but who am I to assume?”

She chuckles a bit, finding humor in it all. It’s all very funny isn’t it? Going from a fun, but stressful situation where she had a found family…to a completely neutral environment, with almost an entire lack of anything. There’s nothing to stress over, save for the times she had to defend herself. Sometimes things from the afterlife try to breach from their hold, it never ends well. They just go back to their hold.

She looks back, seeming to realize how long the silence has dragged on for. Uncomfortably, she clears her throat.

“Ahem— anyways, while I was in this funky period where I was trying to figure myself out, I was also doing my job. It’s nothing much, all I have to do is transport souls of the dead to their destination. It’s really not all that complicated, either. The inside of the elevator is huge, so it can carry the souls and whatever energy they hold with them. You just press a button and go. The trips seem long, but in reality time moves much quicker within the elevator to keep up with the many strings of the universe. I’d have to count in millenniums for how long I’ve been there. Even with all the time I’ve been, sometimes I still feel like I’m that anxious 16 year-old kid back in U.A.. I just chalk it up to being homesick. Though with how time moved in my world, I would’ve been around twenty one or twenty two, right? Twenty one or twenty two, yeah.

I never really did move on from back then, I’ve just become numb to the memories.”

“I dunno how long it took until I learned I could “sink in” to myself. I can delve into my consciousness and dig through my thoughts, memories, and whatnot. Even the things I’ve repressed have come back to me. I like to look through my times back at school. Sometimes, I pause those moments just so I can see everyone’s face again. It’s nice. They’re happy. I looked at myself…and I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling. My memories are like…uhm… kind of like snow globes, I guess. The ones with music boxes that can move, y’know? They’re all scattered around me. I can enter those and just— revisit my memories. It’s nice sometimes, painful other times, and sometimes I’ve felt nothing at all.”

She appears to get lost in thought for a moment, her eyes become distant. It’s a dead, empty stare. She blinks a bit, and she regains that life to her eyes. She looks fine.

“Learned I had more powers, but I lost my quirk along with it. I don’t think I really cared at the time, that quirk held bad memories. It held ties to a family I no longer serve. It wasn’t useful to me, it wasn’t helping me, and after a while it just made me sick. So, I’m fine with no longer having a quirk in my system. An upside to the elevator “fixing me,” as Gideon puts it. I thought it was a silly way of putting it at the time. I still do. But he’s a muddy bull’s dick, so I really don’t give a damn about him. He put me through hell whenever he got the chance, so I always got a bit happier there when he left. It was a small joy, just having some peace and quiet. I think I learned to cherish solitude.

Whenever I had the time, I kept sinking deeper and deeper within my memories— within my head. It looked a bit like I was taking a nap, and I was still somewhat aware of what was going on around me. I could pop out of it to move on to the next floor for the next batch of souls. I-it starts to get messy after a while. Not that I can mess with my memories, it's just that- sometimes I’d uncover things I didn’t want to see. And that’d mess with me. A lot. So, after a while I started to try and do it less. I just wanted to see my friends again, you know? It’s been more than beyond our times, and yet I still can’t get over anything. I can’t move on. Sometimes I feel stuck in time, but everything’s still moving. I can’t stop it.

I wish time could just wait a moment. Even if it was for a second, just so I can catch up. Take a breath and catch up, that’s all I want to do.”

“I’ve entered some of the afterlives before, most certainly haven’t seen them all yet. I’m just glad that I’m not part of them. The elevator feeds off of their energy, whether it’s a punishment or a reward or something in between, it feeds off of their energy and whatever comes from that. That’s all it is, pure energy. The souls are made of pure energy, whatever they let off is pure energy. All it is for the elevator is a full-course meal. It eats from them, lets them make more energy, then it eats again. It’s a working cycle where everything gets what it gets. Their end is their end. Whether it’s what they deserve or not was never part of the question. It’s random selection, or confined to their beliefs. Whatever happens, it’s what they got. It’s not like they could have a say in the matter.”

She looks down, clearing her throat again as she nervously rubs her thighs up and down through her pants. Her mind was starting to race and mumble and it was driving her crazy. She couldn’t be here anymore, telling this to people who couldn’t hear. It’s insane, isn’t it? The way she talks, she speaks like they’re strangers. Frozen in time, the memory of her friends was right in front of her. Her breathing went ragged and she just kept staring at them all. Every one of them.

It all disappears, and she’s back in the elevator. Surrounded by souls which desperately need to move on, she shoves her way through the crowd and pushed the button. She uses her sleeves to wipe away the damp feeling on her face.

It’s time to move on to the next floor.

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :) 

-----

“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow. 

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss. 

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering. 

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared. 

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature. 

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world. 

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band. 

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now. 

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again. 

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat. 

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her. 

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give. 

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued. 

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her. 

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on. 

But oh, how much she wanted it to. 

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk. 

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly. 

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all? 

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more. 

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered. 

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right. 

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her. 

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone. 

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth. 

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

Series Taglist: @juice-1981  @sapphiredreamer26  @tatooineisdry  @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat  @thunderingbats  @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo  @lovegood7553  @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes  @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged, or if I forgot to tag you for some reason! :)

[vexelier-suix-cipher]

Omg reader gets a severe wound but is acting very nonchalant about it. Can I get uhhhh Michael, Bo, and Jason? Some ideas for the sound could be a stab wound or a dog bite or uhhhh literally whatever just as long as it's bloody homie.

×VSC×

Omz yes I do this all the time slsbdlxosje I did go with OG Michael for this but if you wanted a different Mikey just say the word!! hope you like it!!

OG Michael, Jason, and Bo with a gender neutral s/o who gets severely injured but acts nonchalant about it.

Warnings: Blood, knives, dog bite, bear trap, ouchie boo boo, bad writing I'm so sorry

Genre: SFW, Comfort (?)

×××

OG Michael Myers:

×You had been walking back from your day job, waving to a person walking a dog on the other sidewalk when the canine had barked and come loose.

×You expected the dog to just run off, not come snarling right at you.

×The animal latched onto your leg with a tight grip, making you cry out in pain as you used your other leg to kick the dog off.

×The owner was quick to come over, apologizing profusely as they peeled the dog off of you and back on its leash.

"Ah, it's no problem. I can wrap it up at home."

×You told them, getting a hesitant but firm nod from the person before starting to make your way back home.

×Before you knew it, you had stumbled back inside and set your stuff where it belonged as you trudged to the bathroom so you could clean the wound up.

×Michael on hearing you come in without your usual greeting, stood from his place on the couch and followed you to the bathroom.

×While you took out the first aid and sat on the counter with your leg up, Michael mentally gaped at the wound on your leg.

×He could tell it was a dog from the marks of the injury, but couldn't believe you were acting so calm about this. There would've been a chunk missing if the dog went any deeper.

×But of course, he didn't really express any of this and simply took a step into the small room to make his presence known to you.

×You looked up at him as you held the alcohol covered cotton ball I'm your hand, motioning to him he could come closer.

"Hi Michael, had fun without me?"

×He tilted his head at your comment, clearly confused on why you were joking as you dabbed the bloody injury with alcohol.

×That must sting.

"Ah- Yeah a dog bit me while I was walking home. No biggie though, it'll leave a scar at worst."

×You hummed out, chuckling at the lost look in your serial killer boyfriends eyes.

×Once he could tell you really didn't mind and had patched yourself up (with a bit of Michael's help cleaning up) he swiftly picked you up and plopped you down on the couch.

×Before you could speak, he made a motion. He pointed his index finger down to the couch, as if telling you 'stay' while he walked away.

×Now, he wasn't the most affectionate, being the shape of Haddonfield and all, but he did show he cared in a few ways.

×He brought you some painkillers and a handful of candy from his candy stash before settling himself beside you.

×When you scooted up next to him, he simply let you with a tired look under his mask.

×Just don't tease him about the way he fell asleep against your shoulder.

×××

Jason Voorhees:

×Now Jason never liked you wandering the woods by yourself.

×He always told you to stick to the paths and keep an eye out for traps if you did wander out. (He knew you would anyways so might as well.)

×And you swore you did exactly what he had told you!

×Yet here you were, stuck in a bear trap.

×Your scream as the trap clamped down on your foot was muffled by the thick mud you had fallen into, making you groan in disgust as you sat up and wiped it off your face.

×The trap did hurt quite a bit and you did your best to stay still while you tried to focus on something else, hoping your undead lover would make his way over when the alarm for his trap went off.

×And you were right, not even 10 minutes later Jason was making his way to you, machete in hand and ready to kill.

×But he didn't expect this!

×The machete was instantly sheathed into it's pocket as he whined and rushed over to you.

×He was frantically making small groans and whimpers, asking in his own way 'what happened??'

"Slipped in the mud and got caught in the bear trap...sorry Jay.."

×You mumbled, looking towards the mud puddle that had caused this doom.

×He was expecting a bit more worrying from you, but your calmness and little concern seemed to relax his own nerves.

×Jason was quick to sign to you once he calmed down a bit more and gestured to the trap.

"It's going to hurt, but I need to pull the trap off before you lose feeling in your leg."

×He told you, a slight tremble in his hands which you gently cured as you kissed one of his palms and held it to cup your face.

×He always melted at your affection, blushing lightly behind his mask as you smiled and nodded.

"Alright, count to three for me."

×Jason told you, hands now holding onto the jaws of the trap as he listened for your counting.

"One tw- OW JASON!!"

×He yanked the trap apart as you got to two, successfully snapping it in half like it was nothing as he nuzzled his mask against your shoulder in apology.

"Sorry, I had to do it unexpectedly so it would hurt less."

×He signed, relaxing when you pressed a kiss to the forehead of his mask.

×It took a minute from how far out you two were, but he took you back to the cabin and carefully set you down on the kitchen counter while he scrambled around for some alcohol, cotton balls, gauze and bandages.

×He was shaky and very careful with his patching up, making you assure him it was alright and he wouldn't hurt you if he tightened the bandages a bit more. (They would fall off from how loose they originally were)

×But once the patching up was done, you sat down and made some s'mores over a fire which you 100% enjoyed.

×××

Bo Sinclair:

×You were honestly just messing around with your pocket knife, playing the knife game as you tapped the blade against the table over and over.

×Bo was watching intently, making sure you wouldn't hurt yourself and giving you snarky comments every once in a while to quit it before you got hurt.

×But alas you didn't listen.

×Jonsey had made her way out of Vincent's workshop and took a running start before jumping on you to lick you all over.

×The sudden movement caused you to slice your hand open, making you hiss out in pain while Bo immediately stood and yelled at the dog to go away.

"Get the hell outta here!! Get! Go back ta Vincent!!"

×He said, raising his hand threateningly at the poor dog as she scurried away with her tail between her legs.

×He took the knife from you and snapped it closed, tossing it into the sink as he took your hand and winced at how deep you had cut yourself.

"Well shit... Cut yourself quite deep there, huh?"

×He mumbled out, grabbing a small towel from the cupboard and pressing it against your bloody hand as he lead you over to the bathroom so he could patch you up.

×For all the grumbles and huffs he gave you, he was surprisingly gentle with you as he fixed you up.

×You sat there as if it didn't hurt, watching him wrap your hand up.

"Don't it hurt? Yur actin' as if it ain't nothin' but a papercut."

×He questioned, earning a shrug from you and a low groan from him.

"See, ya wouldn't 'ave gotten this if ya had put the damn knife down."

×He scolded, keeping in mind go constantly remind you that it was not a papercut and that it was important for you to not use that hand for a while.

×Jonsey got an apology from Bo (forced by you of course) and a few pets from you as he crossed his arms and fixed the "Sweetbird 69" cap he wore behind you.

×Just don't let Vincent know what happened

×He'd be all over you trying to help you as well istz

×××

×Vexelier×

[the-illiterate-pirate]

Call it a fixit fic, I believe Aisho deserves so much better. It's short, it's a little fluffy, what more could you ask for. Spoilers for Jojolion but if you're looking for Aisho content then you already know what's up

Keep on Loving You

Notes: SFW, gender neutral reader finally :)... I think. So much kissing and relationship stoof. I'm so tired

This wasn't the first time Aisho had invited you to his home, but today it had an air of trouble to it. Your boyfriend wasn't exactly the most stoic man, infact it was his nervous nature that introduced you two, you found his timid personality admirable. Strangley enough though tonight he looked worse than ever. It seemed like at the front door you could already hear the terrified pitter patter of his heart trapped in his chest.

Once he let you in Aisho guided you to his bedroom. You'd already have spent so many wonderful nights with him in there... Like always it smelt nice with a twist of something so uniquely him and...hazelnut coffee maybe? Some days he acted like he was addicted to the stuff. It set you at ease some, but not enough as you watched him nervously pick at his cuticles as he sat down next to you.

"There's something I need to tell you." He finally spoke, as gentle as ever.

"Yes Aisho?" You took his hands in yours, softly batting them away from each other so he couldn't harm his fingers any more.

He gulped audibly and didn't meet your eye. "It's a secret I've held on to for so long now. But I can't bare to keep it from you any longer."

Your confusion shown with the tilt of your head, but he continued quickly. "W-Well, when I disappear for a month at a time, I tell you it's because of work... Or that I'm going to stay with my parents for a while. That's, that's all been a lie."

A sense of dread settled in your stomach. This was going to be his confession to cheating isn't it. Aisho was going to dump you. In his house– his bedroom. He saw that look of terror in your eye. His own blew up wide with shock, as if he already knew what you were thinking. "It's not like that at all! Y'see, I have this...condition, I need to keep focus, but when I lose it my skin turns hard like a rock, and I sleep for a very long time... I can't move or see. It's hard to live normally because of it. It even keeps me from having a job or going to school, so I've been lying to you about that, too... I'm sorry. I feel terrible."

The guilt inside him knawed at his bones and left a ball in his throat. You'd always promised him no secrets between you two, but his true identity was something he couldn't tell you until Aisho knew the time was right. Like now.

Aisho loved you, more then anything. You stayed by his side throughout the worst days of his life and gave him an anchor to hold on to. He, really really truly loved you! So he let you think about it, despite how crushing your silence was. Your hands never left his, thankfully. It gave him the smallest glimmer of hope that you'd forgive him.

"Aisho. Hey, Aisho, look at me." He did so reluctantly, showing off his wet eyes and the lip bitten between his teeth. There was a new tremor in his arms, you brushed your thumb against the tendons in his hands to try to settle him a little. "That must've took guts to confess."

More than he wanted to admit.

"Thank you for telling me. You must be nervous, but there's no reason to be. This isn't going to make me care about you any less, because I love Aisho! More than I could ever tell you! And this, condition, whatever it is can't stop me from drowning you in affection!"

He suddenly found your arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. His body melted into your warmth and the smell of your shampoo and the way your body pressed into his so perfectly like two pieces of a beautiful puzzle. It was all so wonderfully perfect and he was frozen stiff in your hug. Your hand was brought up to his cheek to pull Aisho closer for your array of kisses on his jaw, each dotted with a soft "love" from your lips. His own chest swelled in uncomfortably warm heat as his love for you filled his heart. He twisted his head just in time to capture your lips with his own in a soft lock. And he held you close just like you did to him. And you both stayed connected there in his bed until the sun set on another perfect day spent together.

[arielxlazarus]

I almost forgot about that fanfic appreciation week, but I wanted to at least do something for it! So here's a rec list for some of my favorite fics in the one piece fandom!

This list is not at all exhaustive btw (there's still loads of other fics in the fandom that I love), so please don't feel bad if you weren't included! Also if anyone wants more recommendations from me, you can check out my bookmarks on my ao3!

Who Knows (what could happen) by Chromi

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to set out to sea as an adventurer. His father, unfortunately, dictated that he was to follow the family tradition and become a doctor instead.

Following a lifetime of hurt and sorrow at the hands of his family, he eventually breaks free and takes to the sea alone - determined to keep it that way. Fate has other ideas in store for him; fate crosses his path with Portgas D. Ace's, a brand new pirate.

And what does he hate more than pirates?

Nothing.

Or: from Sixis to the Moby Dick - the lives of the Spade pirates.

First Time by Chromi

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: "Because it is Ace, and it will only ever be Ace, that he wants to see like this, and he wants to be responsible for unravelling him down to his core and loving him to his very center."

In which Ace and Deuce go all the way for the first time.

@chromiwrites

Seabound by AnkhPosts

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace is a selkie, making one of his periodic stops on land to catch a breather and get some ridiculously tasty human food, maybe see some sights if there are any. His pelt is safely hidden, he'll stay a day or two at most and be on his way.

Deuce is a mer, alone on the sea and traveling as he pleases for the first time in his life, and while he might not be terribly interested in actually interacting with humans it's hard not to see them as fascinating.

Ace meets Deuce. Deuce meets Ace. Neither knows the other isn't human.

@ankhposts

Death is only the beginning by Chizyk

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Ankhreshet?” he whipped his head round at the sound of a raspy voice so fast he almost got whiplash. He could feel his body going completely cold as he saw the mummy’s empty eye sockets staring right at him.

@chizyk

I'm Still Here (part of a series) by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace (also Izou/Sabo later in the series)

Summary: "When I do die, don't bother burying me in that empty grave. Put my body in a boat and set me out to sea. Let me sleep eternal on the ocean that my father loved so much; because before everything else in this world, I am a child of the sea, and when I die, I want to return to it. Put me in a boat and set it aflame so I can go down in the same fire I lived."

Forget-Me-Not Fall by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Izou/Sabo

Summary: “Most of the nobles I’ve met tonight look meticulously put together. They look like they were built to portray a certain image paralleled a hundred times over. People who were copied and pasted. Flawless clothes, flawless faces, flawless makeup, flawless hair.”

“Not me though,” Sabo stated, and Izou hummed.

“It’s comforting.”

“Huh?”

Izou met Sabo’s eye. “Everyone else in this place hides their worst attributes with a mask they modified to fit their faces. They don’t seem to comprehend that those perfect masks only make their worst characteristics more pronounced and defined.” His expression was terribly gentle as his eyes wandered across Sabo’s face. “It’s comforting to be approached by someone not trying to be something else.”

Sabo tilted his head. “How do you know I’m not manipulating you like some common Goa aristocrat?”

Izou smiled. “There are a few reasons.”

@theprodigypenguin

A Light To Guide You Home by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In a world that despises mutants, Ace lives purely to protect his little brother.

Until the flames inside him find their perfect match and opposite, and he doesn't know what to feel anymore.

The Phoenix's Mate by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Marco is a handsome man. Ace really can't be blamed for being attracted to him. Nobody minds, either.

But Marco isn't always a man. Ace still loves him regardless, and his sexual urges are catching up to that fact.

Marco indulges him, but he might just find himself enjoying it more than he thought he would.

@evvazi

ASL in Red (series) by Kereea

Rating: G-T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law (both asexual), Koala/Sabo, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Benn Beckman, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante/Aokiji | Kuzan, Roronoa Zoro/Sanji, and several other minor ones

Summary: In an alternate universe, forces conspired to put Ace, Sabo, and Luffy in the care of the Red Hair pirates as children.

The Grand Line would never know what hit it.

Mates (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Deuce just wanted to go searching for plants! A nice walk in the woods. Except, he ends up becoming the mate to a very persistent naga

His First Mate The Mermaid (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Instead of finding another person on Sixis, Ace finds a mermaid

@masked-writer

Being Human by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E (no smut)

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between Marco, Whitebeard, and the rest of the crew as they form)

Summary: The line that differentiates human from object appears to be clear, but sometimes it blurs to the point where it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

The Unknown Devil by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace hadn’t expected his last week of imprisonment before his execution to be any different from all the years preceding it. Then again, he hadn’t expected to have Marco the Phoenix as a cellmate for that week, or that Marco’s presence would shake his bleak world so much.

Ripple Effect by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: After the incident with Shanks, Garp didn't take Luffy to Dadan's, unaware of how much that would change the life of his other grandson.

@maisstories

To Build a Home by endlessblankpages

Rating: G

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between the ASL bros and the Whitebeard Pirates)

Summary: The ASL pirates are used to being accused of crimes they didn't commit. But when they're accused of destroying a small village in the New World, it sends them hurtling toward a deadly confrontation with the strongest man in the world, Whitebeard. The results are not what they were expecting.

Persistence & The Impossible (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In order to keep himself from losing his job, Ace takes on an impossible story. Get an interview with the ever-elusive Phoenix. Guess he might as well kiss his job goodbye.

Self Discovery (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: E

Pairing: Izou/Sabo (sort of, it's technically masturbation)

Summary: Sabo has been waiting for a day like this for a while but it doesn’t go quite how he planned it.

@clockworkpanic

A Breach of Intention by Depths

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It was unspoken, but some pirate crews and mermaids had an unspoken solidarity. Pirates throw their enemies overboard, and the merfolk will take care of them.

mer!ace au

@leviathiane

Running on All Sixes by lunarshores

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Izou/Thatch

Summary: The Whitebeard gang might be one of the most influential in the city, but to Marco they're just his family. Though he sometimes wishes they'd just leave him alone, especially when Izo's playing matchmaker, and Ace is his usual oblivious self. When a brother betrays them, they'll have to fight to show why no one ever messes with their family.

nothing is impossible with you by lunarshores

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Five times Ace and Marco accidentally mixed their flames on accident and one time that was entirely on purpose.

@lunarshores

I Want You to Look at Me by shockandlock

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: One night, Marco is missing from dinner, so Ace decides to bring dinner to him. He's surprised to see Marco wearing glasses and now he can't stop thinking about the way he looks. Now with additional chapter(s) including more miscellaneous MarcoAce PWP!

To My Dear Fire (part of a series) by shockandlock

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Living in the city is a new thing for Ace. After being raised near a cozy coastal mountain town through his childhood, it's definitely a change of pace, but it doesn't help when he loses his new job after an unfortunate encounter with actor Marco Newgate. He just wants to live-- and meet his long time pen pal, Phoenix.

Marco knows that being an actor is hard, so he takes the little things when he can: writing his pen pal (and honestly one of his best friends) Fire Fist, flirting with the cute new waiter at his favorite café-- not that he has a chance after a disaster on social media. But maybe fate really does give him a second chance when Ace shows up at Four Emperor Studios...

@shockandlock

Uncharted Territory by silverwolf_fox

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: This was by far one of Ace's most ridiculous ideas.

When Deuce keeps getting flustered everytime he tries to dominate Ace, they created an opportunity where he didn't have to be afraid of messing up.

Now he's free to do and try whatever he wants...

...so long as Ace doesn't wake up.

Watching the Sunrise (part of a series) by silverwolf_fox

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Many years have passed since Rouge gave up her life for her son’s...except she didn’t die, but she thinks Ace did. Living her life on Baterilla, she’s mourned each and every day until the morning she receives his bounty poster. She sets off immediately to find him, but finds their meeting isn’t as easy as she’d imagined.

@the-devil-fruit-tree

never shall i forget, how you climbed out of a dream by siojo

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Kaido,” Ace smirks, flames burning around his feet as he shifts in preparation for Kaido’s next attack, already trying to decide what he’s going to do in response. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ve seemed to have been enjoying yourself here.”

“I thought you would be smarter than this, Portgas. You’ve never tried to fight another Yonko before, your bounty won’t matter much when you lose.”

Ace barks a laugh, his teeth bared in a facsimile of a grin, “You must have missed out on the brawl I had with Big Mom after she sent two of her daughters and a son for me to consider marrying. This is a bit more personal than that.”

@wordsdrippinginink

Reborn in Fire by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Fireman Marco has earned the nickname 'the Phoenix' by saving numerous people from a certain death. After an accident however, he has to relearn to walk and gets a new job as arson inspector at a different fire station. There he gets confronted with a boy from his past, now all grown up and gorgeous.

Three's a Crowd, Four's a Double Date by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace (main), Izou/Thatch (secondary)

Summary: "We're not dating," Marco said definitively. "That we're sharing a bed tonight is a total coincidence."

@aerle

Universal Dive by EmpressKira

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace had been making his way through the city to go to one of his favorite cafes. Well, that was until this hole ripped in the sky and some pirate fell out with the flaming bird guy following. Getting targeted, he is dragged into a different world with pirates and everything defying the reality he is used to. Will he make it home? Will he go back when the time comes?

@empresskira

Blue moon (series) by de_Winter

Rating: T-M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Urban fantasy AU, werewolf Marco and witch Ace

Red Velvet by de_Winter

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace already knew their routine by heart, just from observing them for a couple of mornings when he had early delivery, and from Izou’s daily long winded—and probably sexually frustrated—rants. Big Blond would come out of the bakery wearing a shirt too tight for him and too thin for the weather as soon as he was done setting up the tables inside the storefront, holding a take out cup and a small box in his big hands. They looked really, pleasantly big from where Ace was standing, and he honestly wished he wasn't standing that far away.

@dee-de-winter

We'll Look Back and Laugh at Ourselves by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Gol D. Roger/Portgas D. Rouge

Summary: Between his new boyfriend and his workaholic boss, Marco felt like he was surrounded by family issues of the father and son dispute variety. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Or maybe he should've listened to the office gossip more. Maybe then he'd figure it out sooner.

Gratitude of the Phoenix (part of a series) by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: [Based on 'The Crane Wife' Folklore]

One day, he saved a bird from freezing to death in a trap. Then, a stranger saved him from suffering the same fate, and a request to stay for one night turned into having someone to fill the void left in the small cottage and in his heart ever since his brothers left.

These two incident doesn’t seem to be related to one another, but they both changed Ace’s life in ways he could never have imagined.

Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud) by stereden

Rating: T

Pairing: None (heavy focus on Buggy, Shanks, and Crocus)

Summary: The Roger Pirates disappeared after their Captain's death, and were happy enough to let the Marines forget about them.

Until the Marines decide to execute their Captain's son, that is.

@stereden

This Bites! by Xomniac

Rating: M

Pairing: None (heavy focus on a main character oc and the strawhat pirates)

Summary: Sea Kings, sea-sickness, sunburns, a 95% genocidal Navy and more than a million and one other assorted ways to die. It's official: Being inserted into an anime sucks ass... Buuut I guess it could be worse. I mean, look on the bright side: At least I'm sailing with the future king of the pirates.

A Fortune that Never Grows Old by imperialmint

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It's one thing to get butterflies in your stomach when you seen an attractive person but it's another thing entirely for Marco to want to stomp out a courtship ritual and lay foundations for a nest when he meets the navy's new (hot) secret weapon.

@imperialmint

Most of the authors on this list have many other excellent one piece fics I'd definitely suggest checking out! Enjoy your reading and try to show them all some love if you can!

[missywritesfor7]

🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

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|| Ch. 32: Heart ||

Luna isn’t sure what happened during the time Jungkook was walking Jin back to his room, but now she’s worried it wasn’t good. Despite her pleads, Jungkook refuses to come out of his bunny form and tell her what’s really on his mind. She’s tried poking, prodding, and tickling him to no avail.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” Luna fusses. “I thought we got past you hiding all the time. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me what’s wrong.”

Still he won’t change back. He looks at her with his big eyes and can’t help but melt inside. The way she looks so concerned makes him hate that his inability to express himself is causing her so much worry. He just wants to hold her.

Luna gives up trying to get him out of his bunny form. She just hopes that whatever is bothering him, he’ll open up to her about it eventually. She lays down and pulls his soft body into her.

The next morning Luna wakes up with the little fur ball still nestled next to her. As much as she wants him to come out of it she can’t resist how irresistibly precious he is. She runs her fingers through his fur until he begins to stir awake.

Jungkook loves waking up to her soft touch. He loves opening his eyes and seeing her sweet face smiling back at him. He loves the way she whispers good morning to him. He loves her.

He had a hard time sleeping because the internal battle he was having wouldn’t allow him to rest. He finally told himself he would see how he felt in the morning. He could feel completely different after some sleep. But when he woke up all his heart could feel was love. All his eyes saw was love. Luna is love.

When he finally pulls himself out of hiding he suggested they go out for breakfast. He takes her to a new restaurant and lets her go wild ordering whatever she wants and however much she wants. He can’t stop smiling at her. She’s beautiful. She’s the only thing he can think about even while she’s sitting right in front of him.

“So,” Luna says pulling him out of his trance. “Are you going to tell me what happened last night?”

“Oh,” he remembers. He was hoping he wouldn’t remember and neither would she. The smile that had been painted across his face all morning has fallen as the memory of the conversation he had with his father replays in his mind. “It’s just, my dad as usual,” he says.

“As usual?” She knows it’s probably risky to have him explain further, but she hopes letting him vent a little will keep him from exploding later and causing another “natural disaster”, as Taehyung and Jimin described it.

“He saw me when I was walking back and started bitching about the same shit. It’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing? Like it was nothing when you showed up with that scratch on your face that still hasn’t fully healed.”

“It’s mostly healed.”

“You’re supposed to be able to heal instantly, no?”

“It’s like 95% healed.”

“It’s been almost a month!”

“The fucker just scratched me deep, that’s all.”

“He actually hurt you.”

“Nothing hurts me,” he lies.

“But that did, didn’t it?”

“Eat your food.”

“Do I need to call your mother?”

“With what? Your imaginary phone?”

“Fuck you, I’ll go get myself a phone.”

“With what money, you bum?” He laughs.

“You demon deer! I’ll find a way,” she pouts. She thinks a moment then softens her tone. “Jungkookie, can you get me a phone?”

“Wooooooww,” he chuckles. “You just called me a demon deer, and now you have the nerve to ask me to buy you a phone?”

“You’re the bestest demon deer in the entire universe,” she grins.

It’s that. That smile. That way she calls him a demon deer and he finds it endearing for some reason. He’ll buy her a phone. If she keeps looking at him like that then he’ll be ready to buy her the entire moon.

“You’re not going to get off that easily,” he says.

She looks at him and pouts her bottom lip out. “Please, Jungkookie.”

“Finish your food,” he chuckles. “I’ll think about getting you a phone if you’re nice to me.”

She pouts a moment longer then continues eating her food without protesting further. Afterwards he takes her for a walk along a nearby trail. It’s a small trail but it kills some time because Jungkook would rather circle this place with her a thousand times than go home where he knows his father would be waiting around any corner.

“Come here,” Jungkook says pulling her towards the woods they’re approaching along the trail. “I want to show you something.”

“In the woods?” Luna asks letting him take her along. “What do you want to show me here.”

“You’ll see,” he smiles taking her further into the trees.

“Should I be worried? Oh my god is this it? The moment you finally murder me and leave me in a hole you already have dug up out here?”

“What?” Jungkook asks stopping in his tracks. “What the hell type of movies have you been watching?”

“It happens,” she shrugs. “Some demon soul stealer gains the trust of some unsuspecting damsel, then one day he finally pounces and leaves her somewhere no one will find her.”

“The fuck?” He chuckles. “First of all, you’re not a damsel, just some weirdo I got stuck with. Second, why would I do something to you after spending so much time trying to save your life?”

“If you feel like you’re stuck then you can go. It’s not like you’re being forced to hang around me all the time.” she huffs folding her arms.

“Yes I am,” he smirks. “I have no choice.”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” he smiles standing toe to toe with her. He looks down at her confused face and he can’t hold it anymore. He slides his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. “I already fell in love with you.”

“You did what?” She asks surprised. “How? I mean why? No, I mean…what?”

“I’m in love with you, LuLu.” He holds her tighter so she can feel the way his heart is beating wildly. “I’m so…stupidly in love with you.”

“Stupid,” she chuckles lightly sliding her hands up his chest.

His confession has her burning up inside. She knew her feelings for him were strong, but the doubt about whether he felt the same remained in the back of her mind. She doubted him each day for no reason other than her own insecurities.

“You’ve risked so much to keep me alive,” she says looking up at him. “I thought you’d be done with me when I converted, but you never went away. You stayed up my ass like the pest you are.” She chuckles wrapping her arms around his neck. “If anyone is stupid, it’s me for ever doubting how you felt about me.” She brings her lips to his just barely touching. “I’m stupidly in love with you too.”

His heart is going insane now. The melody of her voice saying those words makes every other sound monotone. He holds her as tight as he can and kisses her so he can feel her words. He holds it for a while not caring about being able to breathe or anything. He only wants to keep the taste of her love on his lips.

The two of them stay there a moment chasing each other’s lips not even caring that they’re in the middle of some dark woods. If anything it makes them more carefree about where their hands and tongues travel. Luna suddenly finds her back against a tree and Jungkook’s body pressed so closely to hers. They’d both give anything to stay in this moment forever.

“Can you promise me something?” Jungkook whispers into her mouth when he finally manages to disconnect from her lips for a moment.

“What’s that?” She replies.

“I know you like to do things for yourself, but if my father even comes within 5 feet of you when I’m not around, promise you’ll let me know?”

“That’s a very specific request,” she chuckles. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to be around him without you anyway.”

“Good. Because I’ll kill him if he touches you.”

“Your own father?”

“For you. I’ll end him if it’s to keep you safe.”

“Do you tell all your girlfriends this?” She jokes.

“No. Just you. I’ve only promised this to one other person.”

“One other person? Who else are you willing to kill your father for?”

“My mom.”

Luna thinks back to Taehyung telling her about Jungkook catching his father cheating and nearly killing him because of it. She knows he’s serious. The unwavering look in his eyes proves how serious he is. She’s flattered, but also scared. Minseok seems to be relentless in making sure Jungkook and her don’t stay together. Actually, he seems relentless in controlling Jungkook in general. Luna would hate for Jungkook to face whatever consequences would be brought up if he were to actually kill his father.

“I promise I’ll let you know,” she responds. “But can you promise me that you won’t do anything that will get you in trouble? Don’t get sent to jail or whatever happens to murderers in this world.”

“How would I get in trouble if he was somehow lost in a fire?” He jokes.

“Jungkook!” Luna stomps.

“Ok ok,” he chuckles. “You sound like my mom.”

“That’s because she has sense.”

“The two people I’d kill for won’t even let me,” he huffs sarcastically.

“Because you’re out of your mind,” she jokes. “But really, Jungkookie.”

Every time she calls him that he wants to soar into the sky then bow down to her ready to obey her every command.

“I know you hate him, but think of yourself and the people who love you,” she says stroking his cheek. “You’re better than killing your own father. What am I going to do if you get locked up or something?”

“Would you wait for me to get released from prison?” He asks knowing very well he has no desire to do anything that will get him arrested.

“Hell no!” Luna says lightly hitting his chest. “If you get locked up I’m going to find me a new demon to take care of me.”

“You think anyone else would put up with you the way I have?”

“Do you think anyone else would put up with you the way I have?” She retorts with a smirk.

He looks at her silently trying to maintain a straight face. Would he kill his father for her? Of course. However, he wouldn’t. Not at all. Even the day he lost his temper with his father he knew he wouldn’t kill him.

Over the years Jungkook learned to control what he considers his ultimate ability. It could kill easily, but he never wants it to get to that. He discovered the power when he was younger and unleashed it when he was angry. He was alone in his room so no one witnessed it, but afterwards there was talk of the sudden earthquake that hit the palace. When he realized how powerful it was he tried his best to keep it controlled because he feared he would hurt someone innocent. Except the one time he was pushed to his limit. Seems only his father can manage to bring out the worst in his temper.

Although Minseok is constantly pushing Jungkook to his limit, after that day he learned when to back off. Just like last night, Minseok knew not to press further. He knew the look in Jungkook’s eyes and got flashbacks to the day he learned how powerful his son really is. Jungkook only hopes he’s not pushed that far again for the sake of himself and everyone else in the kingdom. But especially Luna.

“Love,” Jungkook smiles. “Let’s go get you a phone.”

“Really?” Luna says in excitement. “Finally! Let’s go!”

She grabs his hand and pulls him along and out of the woods as if she knows where they’re going. He follows along with an amused smile on his face. Is this really what love is?

After setting her up with a new phone, then spoiling her with anything else that caught her eye as they passed shops on the street, they return to Jungkook’s room at the palace. Luna gets comfortable on the couch playing with all the features of her new phone. Aside from some vampire friendly differences, it’s pretty similar to the phone she had back home. Jungkook throws himself across his bed taking a few deep breaths to convince himself that this is all real. He loves her and she loves him.

[Luna]: I see you 👀

[Luna]: Big eyed bunny 🐰

[Luna]: Doe eyed Jungkookie 🦌

[Luna]: Fluffy demon boy

[Luna]: Hey, spawn of Satan I’m talking to you!

[Jungkook]: If I have to get off this bed and come over there I’m crushing that phone

[Luna]: You wouldn’t dare!

[Jungkook]: I didn’t buy you the thing so you could harass me from 10 feet away

[Luna]: Who the hell else am I going to harass? Your number is the only one I have 😝

[Jungkook]: Anyone ever tell you how much of a pain in the ass you are?

[Luna]: You fell in love with this pain in the ass 😏

Jungkook looks at his phone a moment and sighs. Touché. He sits up and looks at Luna giggling on the couch.

“You’re just having a blast over there, aren’t you?” Jungkook says trying to hide his amusement.

“Yup,” Luna says with a smug smile.

“I need to find you some friends you can bother so you can leave me alone.”

“Fine. What’s Jimin’s number? I know he’ll be my friend.”

Jungkook shoots her a sharp look. He stands from the bed and walks to her towering over her with his brows furrowed. She looks up at him with a smirk, amused that he took the bait so easily.

“You are evil,” he says through his teeth.

“And you’re so easy,” she laughs. “I knew you were jealous of Jimin.”

“I’m not,” he huffs. “There’s no reason for me to be jealous of him.”

“But you are.”

“No.”

“Yes. Admit it. Little Jungkookie is jealous of his hyung.”

“I should’ve let the portal take you over,” he sighs rolling his eyes.

“You should have,” she stands getting close to his face. “But too bad I put you under my spell.”

“What are you a witch now?” He chuckles.

“Is that a thing here?”

“No,” he laughs.

“Well whatever, I still put you under my spell and now here we are.” She sticks her tongue out at him like a child causing him to finally break.

“This is the most torturous thing ever,” he laughs pulling her into an embrace. “You are the most torturous fucking thing ever.”

“Well you’re no sunshine baby either,” she giggles giving in to his hold.

She loves his hold. His touch. His smell. His voice. The way his chest feels so solid against her body. The way his heart knocks on her cheek as she’s pressed into him. Love is such a silly stupid thing but here she is in silly and stupid love.

Thankfully they’re able to get through the remainder of the day without running into Minseok. Jungkook hopes after last night Minseok realizes how serious he is and backs off.

The next morning duty calls when Jungkook has to accompany Jin on a visit to the neighboring kingdom, Tansilvania. It’s a friendly visit meant to maintain the relationship Korealis has with Tansilvania. Jin, along with his brother Hojin V, Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook and his brother royal shield Junghyun all convoy to visit the kingdom’s allies in a routine trip they make to every allied kingdom every so often.

Jungkook hates having to go to Jin’s many diplomatic visits. No matter when or where they go, it’s always the same. Jin fakes a smile the entire trip, Taehyung tries convincing them to let him go shopping, and Namjoon has to be the voice of order and reason when the exhausted younger ones start fighting. There’s also a chance of bickering between at least one of the sets of siblings. The free food is always nice, but the exhaustion at the end of the day kills him every time.

Luna is hanging out in Jungkook’s room trying to decide what to do while he’s gone. She isn’t sure where she could go but she doesn’t want to stay in his room alone all day. She starts off searching online. She’s still getting used to some of the differences between technology here and in the human world, but at least she’s figured out enough to learn how to search for places nearby. She lays across the couch searching for something that catches her eye when there’s a light knock at the door. She isn’t sure who it could be, but she knows Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi are still here. Thinking it’s one of them she gets up to get the door but once she’s on her feet the door opens.

To Luna’s absolute horror Minseok comes walking in the room. She’s frozen in place unsure of what to say. He probably has more of a right to be in here than she does so she can’t tell him to leave. Not that that would work anyway.

“J-Jungkook,” she stutters.

“I know where he is,” Minseok says raising his hand to stop her and shutting the door behind him.

“Oh.” Then what the hell is he doing here? She wonders.

Minseok walks past her and takes a seat on the couch. He then pats the spot next to him inviting her to sit as well. Luna is scared and confused but does as told. The last thing she wants to do is give him a reason to lose his shit towards her when Jungkook is no where around.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Minseok says in a tone that’s much more lighter than it usually is. “I wanted to come by so we can start over and maybe understand each other better.”

“Oh?” Luna asks tilting her head. This was not at all what she expected him to say. What the hell really happened the other night when Jungkook came back and hid in his bunny form? Whatever it was she didn’t think it would cause Minseok to have a change of heart like this.

“It’s Luna, right?” He asks.

“Yes,” she answers nervously.

“Jungkook seems to have taken quite a liking to you.” He looks at Luna then to the floor. “He’s my youngest son with incredible ability and a very promising future. I only want the best for him.” He pauses and looks back at Luna who is still thoroughly confused. “He’s had many relationships in the past and they always hurt him so much in the end. I hate to see him hurting, but every time it’s the same thing. I just want to do whatever I can to make sure I protect him.”

“Oh…” Luna says still confused but now filled with many questions she isn’t sure she should ask.

“This is why I’m so hard on him. If he’s focused on his job and not all of these girls he’s always chasing he wouldn’t find himself getting hurt and falling behind in his training.”

“All of these girls?” Luna whispers even more confused and now for some reason feeling something growing in her throat. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I just want you to understand where I’m coming from. Aside from you being a convert with ties to the Saakhan leader, I just want you to know that it’s not personal. I’m just trying to protect my son from yet another heartbreak. I don’t even think he’s fully gotten over the last one. He certainly didn’t give himself much time before he moved on to you, I know he’s probably still processing some of those feelings he had for her.”

Luna looks on unsure of anything Minseok is telling her. She knows he’s a snake and trying to get into her head, but what does he think she’s going to do, suddenly break up with Jungkook? He’ll have to do more than try to get her to take pity on him to make that happen.

“So…is there something you’re wanting me to do about this?” She asks wanting him to get to the point so he can hurry up and leave.

“I just want you to know. And maybe save you some surprise when you learn about his exes.”

“I don’t really want to know about his exes,” Luna says. She’s not about to fall for this silly charade.

“Well he has so many he probably doesn’t remember much about any of them anyway. Except the one he was engaged to be married to.”

“What?” Luna asks being taken off guard.

“I didn’t want to bother you too long,” he says standing. “I appreciate you hearing me out. Enjoy the rest of your day.” And just like that, he’s out the door.

Luna is stuck staring in the same spot. Did he say Jungkook was engaged? She knows she can’t trust anything he says and he’s likely just doing this to try getting her to leave Jungkook. She gets it. But those words are hard for her to tune out.

He was engaged?

[alpacaparkaseok]

Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics​ brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room. 

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised. 

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible  even as unshed tears glimmer 

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final. 

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him. 

he lost. 

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs. 

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever. 

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain. 

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple: 

he wants to cry. 

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry. 

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all. 

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours 

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy. 

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions. 

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain. 

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower. 

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right. 

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt. 

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline. 

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused 

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!! 

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look. 

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips. 

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you. 

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him. 

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word. 

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips. 

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

--

m.list || buy me an orange juice?

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so other people can read it! 💖

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[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Eternal Edifice

A Horror Septic Story

(Okay, so, out of all the things I’ve written over the four years of writing JSE fanfiction (God I can’t believe it’s been that long), this piece is probably the thing that’s MOST removed from anything JSE. In fact, you could argue that it’s technically fanfiction for a DIFFERENT YouTuber up until the end XD Anyway, that’s not important. That’s just a fun little side tangent. This is still a crucial part of the ongoing story. Onto the summary: Some time has passed, and Stacy’s been looking for a job. She hears about one and decides to check it out, but it turns out the listing wasn’t exactly honest...)

—————

Two months had passed since they arrived in the city, and summer was starting to fade. Around this time last year, Stacy was getting the kids ready for school, buying supplies and reminding them not to stay up too late. Now? She wasn’t sure if they should be enrolled. Nothing strange had happened since that...glitchy...thing had shown up a few weeks ago. But that didn’t mean everything was okay.

The family was still staying with Mark and Amy, a fact that Stacy was starting to be concerned about. She knew they were really pushing their generosity. Even though the couple had been nothing but nice about it. Stacy had started insisting on doing chores around the house to make up for it. After all, she couldn’t exactly pay rent without a job. And she was having a surprising amount of trouble finding one.

The kids were happy enough, though. Obviously there were still major problems—besides all the mental scarring from the supernatural activity, they were still probably adjusting to life in general. But they had video games and movies and other things to entertain them.

Larkin loved to play with Mark and Amy’s dogs. Stacy had also bought him a new coloring book the last time she went out. She asked Mathew if he wanted anything, too. He said he was fine, but she wanted to keep it fair, so she bought him some new headphones. Pretty cheap ones, but his old pair were starting to get frayed around the plug. Mathew’s eyes lit up when she gave them to him. He wasn’t using his phone as often, but was comfortable with the house computers, and plugged his headphones into the speakers.

Still, the threat of running out of money lingered over her head. It was frustrating that this was the thing she was most worried about, when the family had survived much worse. And there was no guarantee that the worst had passed, either. They hadn’t been bothered by anything strange since that glitchy thing, but something else could always be coming.

She wondered if John was alright. Several nights she was kept awake by doubts, asking herself if she should have gone after him. Maybe. She could have at least made sure he was alright. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been panicking and bleeding heavily from his eye. Sometimes she could hear what he shouted in the silent moments of her life: “Forget about me like everyone else does.” Maybe she should have ran after him instead of letting him just leave.

But would she have even been able to help? She’d had some time to think about it, and she was pretty sure why John had been so frantic upon hearing about the thing haunting Mathew. She knew, somewhere deep inside, why that thing had accepted his offer: “Do whatever you want to me, just leave them out of it.” But she didn’t want to put it into words. It felt...wrong somehow. Like a violation of privacy.

Still. There was nothing she could do about it now. It was hard enough to find someone in the world who had a house to find and a bank account to track. John had neither. She couldn’t do anything except ask around, and she had a hunch that wouldn’t do much. No. Right now, Stacy had to focus on her own, more immediate problems. Even though she wished she could help.

Things changed one early fall afternoon. She had just gone grocery shopping and was busy loading the foodstuffs into the various cupboards when Amy approached her. “Hey, are you still looking for a job?” she asked.

Stacy glanced at her and laughed, trying to sound lighthearted. “Yeah, I’d have let you know if I found one.”

“God, the economy must be in shambles.” Amy shook her head.

“It’s fine. The real problem is that I’m probably being too picky. I’d be fine working as, like, a waitress somewhere. Eventually I’ll save up money.” She said this, but really, Stacy doubted that she could do much on minimum wage. Sure, maybe they could eventually be able to afford a hotel room to live in instead of relying on Mark and Amy. But they needed a stable life. Still...just having a place of their own was something to settle for.

“Well, I saw this online.” Amy reached over the counter and handed her a sheet of paper. “Printed it out for you.”

Stacy took the paper, looking down at a listing that was probably taken from a job site. There were multiple positions available, but they all boiled down to, well, basically “housekeeping.” At the bottom of the listing was an address for somewhere that was technically part of the city, but so far away that it might as well have been a different city altogether. “What is it?” she muttered.

“Okay, so. You know rich people?”

“Yeah.”

“You know how they have huge houses that need a lot of stupid maintenance?”

“Yeah.” Stacy scanned the available positions again. “I’m, uh...not really qualified for—holy shit, fifty dollars an hour?!” That was more than the hourly wages of all her previous jobs combined!

Amy laughed. “Yeah, I know, right? Usually these guys tend to underpay, but I guess this guy decided to go the opposite way.” She shrugged. “Anyway. You don’t have to apply, but I thought it might be helpful. Even if it’s just a temporary solution.”

“I—This would be helpful,” Stacy said, pointing out the obvious. But as she read the listing for a third time, she noticed something odd. “There’s no, uh...there’s no listed way of contacting whoever put this up. No phone number or website or anything. Was there one on the website you got this from?”

“No, I didn’t see one,” Amy said slowly. “I guess you have to drive up there? Is...is that gonna be a problem?”

“No, it’s not a problem, just kind of weird.”

“Well, you’d probably need to go there eventually,” Amy figured. “If you’re going to be cleaning a house all the time you want to know what that house looks like.”

Stacy nodded. “I...guess I’ll drive up there. Would Saturday be a good day? I mean, can I use your car then?”

“Probably. I’ll check the calendar later to make sure nothing’s going on.”

“Great. Thank you so much, by the way, I-I really appreciate all this.”

Amy smiled. “Well don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you around.”

As she left the kitchen, Stacy scanned the address on the listing, taking out her phone to search up directions. This could work. It wasn’t her ideal job, but with that pay? Working there for even a little while was guaranteed to get her enough money to start moving on. She’d have to focus on the little things first, like clothes and other belongings, but eventually she could get a rental apartment, possibly even find an old used car. And with the more...mundane problems taken care of, she could finally turn her attention back to the more unusual ones. Maybe find some way to keep her and her kids safe for good.

* * * * * * * * * *

That Saturday, she got in the car around noon, told Mathew and Larkin that she’ll be back evening at the latest (she wasn’t sure how long this would take so she overshot it), and headed on up to the place from the listing.

The address was a long drive away. Stacy got lost a couple times, certain that she was going the wrong way. But she knew she was getting close when the houses started getting bigger. Sprawling mansions with lawns that were only slightly smaller than a football field. She didn’t know that houses like this actually existed. Apparently they do. How rich was this guy to be able to afford a place like this?

Eventually, she found her way there, turning off the main road and down a driveway that was basically a small road in and of itself. The driveway passed through some trees and ended in a circle. Beyond a short brick wall and open iron gate was the house. Or...mansion. As Stacy got out of the car, she stared up at the dark cobbled walls, broken by narrow iron windows. The design was wide, no more than maybe two stories, looking almost like several short towers stuck together. She walked up to the front entrance—marked by a couple low steps and grand banisters to either side—and knocked on the dark wooden door.

A few moments passed. Then someone called from inside, “Come in!” So she opened the door and stepped into the front hall.

The inside was just as grand as the outside. She looked around, taking in the white walls and tiled floor of the entrance, as well as its decorations, which included a large mirror. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. It looked like this place had a very open floor plan. 

“Oh, hello.”

There was a man in the living room. He was sitting on one of the fancy sofas, but stood up when he saw Stacy. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, flashing a charming smile.

“I’m Stacy. Stacy Allen.” As she shook his hand, Stacy scanned this man. He was taller than her by about half a head. His hair was black, and his eyes were a dark brown color. He wore a red long-sleeved shirt over a pair of black pants. And he looked kind of familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. “I, uh, heard you had some openings in here. For some positions...Do I talk to you about that?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Would you like a tour, Ms. Allen?”

“Um, yes, that would be nice.”

“Fantastic.” Marcus smiled again, and turned around. “Follow me, we’ll start with the first floor.”

Stacy spent the next while following Marcus around the house, listening to him explain what each room was and what the history behind the various decorative pieces were. Apparently this was his house, something he’d inherited from his parents when they passed. He lived alone, but since the house was so big, he needed people to take care of it. That’s where the empty positions came in.

“Do you have any experience in maintaining a house? Or a garden?” Marcus asked her.

“I’m very good at cleaning,” Stacy said, carefully not saying that she didn’t have any more housekeeping experience than the average person. “I’ve never seen a house this big before, though. But I’m, uh, willing to take on a challenge!” She laughed awkwardly.

Marcus laughed as well, much more naturally than her. “I’m sure you could learn. Unfortunately I haven’t found anyone else to take on the chores yet, so you’d be the only one here. But feel free to ask me if you have any questions. Now before we go explore the cellar or the second floor, let’s take a walk around the grounds.”

It was a very long walk. Not particularly hard, as there were a lot of paved paths, but the grounds were massive. Stacy made it very clear that she was not qualified to take care of something of this size, but that “I’d be willing to learn!” Sure, maybe she didn’t want to work outside. But she was getting pretty desperate for a job at this point. Marcus assured her there would be plenty of positions inside the house, and then resumed the tour inside. They saw the cellar, the kitchens, the many parlor rooms and bedrooms, and then they returned to that first living room, right by the entrance hall.

“Alright,” Stacy said, looking around. “So...do you need my phone number to contact me? If I get the job?”

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked. “Of course you have the job!”

Stacy’s heart pounded in her chest. “Wait, really?”

“You seem like a good fit,” he said. “How soon can you start?”

“Oh, I-I don’t know.” She wasn’t expecting this at all. Maybe rich people didn’t care who did their cleaning as long as it got done? Part of her couldn’t believe this. After so long looking in the city, applying on everything online and walking into every place with a hiring sign, had she finally done it? Would she be able to buy her sons actual new clothes, instead of scouring the Goodwills for the cheapest option that was close to fitting? Could she pay Mark and Amy back for their kindness, and eventually find a place to stay? “Um...next week?”

“That would be great,” Marcus said, grinning.

“Great!” Stacy paused. “Um, I should probably get going, then.” She dug her phone out of her purse checking the time. “Oh! I-I should really get going.” She’d already been here for an hour, and it had taken her an hour to drive up here.

“Oh, are you sure you want to drive in this weather?” Marcus asked, concern lining his face.

“What weather?” Stacy turned around, looking through the windows by the door. Outside, it was dark. She frowned, and opened the door, revealing rain pouring down in sheets, half-flooding the driveway. As she stared, lightning forked across the sky, instantly followed by a deafening clap of thunder. “What the—?!” It was fine while she was driving up. Sure, the day had been gray and overcast as they walked around the grounds, but nothing to indicate this was going to happen.

“I know it’s a long way back to the city from here,” Marcus said. “And this doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon. If you want, I have plenty of spare bedrooms. You saw them all on our tour.” He chuckled good-naturedly.

“Um...” Stacy hesitated, then closed the front door. “Let me call my kids first. Let them know I won’t be home and that my, uh, roommates should look after them.” She really, really didn’t want to do this. Anything could happen to Mathew and Larkin while she was away—including things of the more...paranormal variety. But if she drove out on the winding, unfamiliar roads in this weather, she was just as likely to get in a wreck. This was probably safer. She pulled out her phone, already planning what to say, when her eyes flicked to the top of the screen to check her battery and signal. And she noticed something strange. “Oh, you don’t have Internet out here?”

“I do, it’s just been down for the past day or so,” Marcus said casually. “The company doesn’t want to drive all the way out here. It should be fixed by next week. Is this a problem?”

“No, it’s fine.” She still had cell signal to make calls. “I’ll...find a book to read or something.”

Marcus let her choose which bedroom to pick, and she chose a medium-sized one with a good lock—sure, she didn’t want to drive home in a storm, but she didn’t want to relax quite yet. Marcus seemed nice enough, but by now she knew appearances were deceiving. At least his red shirt wasn’t a red hoodie.

Thunder echoed across the sky as rain pounded against her window. The wind howled, and Stacy had a hard time falling asleep out of a baseless anxiety that the storm would blow down the house. But, eventually, her eyes slipped closed and she drifted off.

* * * * * * * * * *

The house had dark cobbled walls, broken by narrow iron windows. Its design was wide, no more than maybe two stories, looking almost like several short towers stuck together. Stacy walked up to the front entrance—marked by a couple low steps and grand banisters to either side—and knocked on the dark wooden door.

Wait.

Hadn’t she just done this?

She looked around. The sky overhead was filled with gray clouds. But there was no sign of a storm. She turned around and saw the front of her car, poking out from behind the brick wall and open iron gate. Everything was...the same.

“Come in!” A voice called from inside.

Stacy didn’t like this. She wanted to turn around and walk back to her car, pretending that the knock was just some salesman that decided to leave. But instead, she found herself opening the front door and stepping inside.

The inside was just as grand as the outside. The entrance hall had white walls, decorated with various items, including a large mirror. Its floor was tiled. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. This was...exactly the same. She’d definitely done this, hadn’t she? She’d been in this entrance hall before.

“Oh, hello.”

There was a man in the living room, standing up from one of the fancy sofas. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, flashing a smile.

Stacy reluctantly took his hand and shook it. “Hi. I’m, uh...Stacy.” She glanced around, then looked Marcus over. He had black hair and dark brown eyes, was taller than her by half a head, and wore a red long-sleeved shirt. She had seen him before. She had just seen him, right before going to bed. “Um...this might sound weird, but...have we met?”

Marcus looked confused. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t look familiar. Why?”

“I...I was...I think...” Stacy looked around again. She extracted her hand from the handshake and backed up. “I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong house.”

“You do?” Marcus’s face fell in disappointment. “Oh. I was wondering if you were here about the job openings.”

“N-no, I think—I think this is wrong.” Stacy backed up, then turned around and grabbed the handle of the front door. “I’m sorry, I’ll just go.” She stepped through the door.

And she walked into a room with stone walls, almost empty except for a long counter and a wall full of racked wine bottles. “And this is the wine cellar,” a voice said. Marcus stepped around her and gestured at the room. “I don’t really drink a lot of alcohol. Family condition. But I keep them for parties, so others can have a good time if they want.”

“Wait.” Stacy turned around. Behind her were stairs leading upwards. “I—what?”

“What is it?” Marcus asked gently.

“I just—we—I was—” Stacy put a hand against the wall. It was cool beneath her palm. Solid. “I’ve been here.”

“Oh, did I already show you the cellar?” Marcus chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry. I guess my memory failed me. We can look at the second floor now.”

“No, I—this is—” Stacy knocked on the wall. Still solid. It was really there.

“Ms. Allen, are you...are you alright?” Marcus asked slowly, looking at her with worry. “Do you need to sit down? It’s a big estate, I know, it’s fine if it’s too much walking.”

Stacy said nothing. She looked at him, mouth half-open as if waiting for words to form, but none came. Marcus continued to look at her, the worry glinting in his eyes. He seemed genuinely concerned. Did he...not know? Or was she just...losing it a bit?

No. No, she wasn’t losing it. She was past the point of thinking every weird thing she saw had a rational explanation. Something was going on here. But how could she get out of it? Walking through the front door didn’t work. Maybe she had to finish the tour first? “I’m...fine,” she said slowly. “Let’s go see the rest of the house.”

Marcus nodded slowly, and the two of them left, heading up to the second story. He said all the same things he’d said the first time, showing her all the same bedrooms, bathrooms, and spare rooms. Then they went down one of the many staircases in the house, and ended up in the entrance hall again. “Well, that’s the whole of it,” Marcus said. “What do you think?”

“Um, well...” Stacy shifted awkwardly. “Thank you very much, but I don’t know if this job is really for me after all.”

“Oh, really?” Marcus sighed. “That’s a shame. But if you change your mind, I don’t think I’ll be able to fill all these positions for a while.”

“Great. Great. I’ll keep that in mind.” Stacy walked towards the front door, as quickly as she could without being strange. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Are you sure you want to drive home in this weather?” Marcus asked.

Stacy opened the front door, revealing...the exact same storm. The exact same storm. The water puddling on the driveway was exactly as high as it had been. The same sheets of rain fell down in the same pattern. As she watched, the lightning that broke across the sky arced the way it had before, followed by an instant thunderclap that deafened her again.

“It will be fine,” she said. “I-I’ll be back if I can’t find anything else.” That was a blatant lie. She was never coming back here again.

“Well, alright,” Marcus said, confused. “We’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah.” Stacy walked through the door.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The inside was just as grand as the outside. The entrance had white walls and a tiled floor. Decorations covered those walls, including a large mirror. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. 

“What the hell?!” she shouted.

“Oh, hello.”

There was a man in the living room, standing. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, a smile on his face.

“I’m—um—” Stacy backed away. “Sorry, wrong house!” She spun around, threw open the front door, and ran out.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The inside was just as grand as the outside. The entrance had white walls and a tiled floor. Decorations covered those walls, including a large mirror. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. 

Stacy took a deep breath. Okay. Maybe she couldn’t leave through the front door. That was fine. There were plenty of other exits; she’d seen them on the first tour.

“Oh, hello.”

A man was standing in the living room. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, a smile stretching his face.

“Hi,” Stacy said slowly, taking his hand for a shake and letting go as soon as she was able.

“And...what’s your name?” Marcus asked. “Are you here about the open positions?”

“Y-yeah.” Stacy nodded. “I’m...Stacy.”

“Ah. Alright, then. Would you like a tour, Ms. Allen?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t bother to ask how he knew her last name when she hadn’t told him. “Uh, show me around. Thank you.”

Stacy spent the next while following Marcus around the house, listening to him explain what each room was and what the history behind the various decorative pieces were. She was paying attention, but not because she found it particularly interesting. She had to see if the things he said were the same. And they seemed to be, for the most part. It was a bit harder to remember, since it had been a good few hours since she heard the first spiel. Or...had it been that long at all? Maybe this had never happened before, and time was restarting?

They were finished with the first floor. She waited for Marcus to take the tour outside. But instead, he turned around and started going down another hall. “Now, if you’ll follow me to the second floor,” he said.

“Wait.” Stacy stopped where she was. “Aren’t we going to go outside?”

Marcus looked back at her and frowned. “Well, I was planning on it, but I figured you didn’t want to explore the gardens with that storm.”

“Storm?!” Stacy turned around and ran back the way they came, until she stopped in front of a pair of glass doors. Outside, it was pouring rain. She looked up at the black sky and saw that same fork of lightning flash across the clouds, its branches identical to the past two times. The thunderclap that followed was the same, but it seemed even louder now. “When the actual hell?!”

“They start up quickly around here,” Marcus said, sighing. “You get used to it. Come on. We can see the grounds some other time.”

Stacy shook her head. “No. No, it’s fine.” She reached forward and grabbed the handle of the glass door, flinging it open. Before Marcus could say anything else, she walked right out.

“—and this is the spare guest bedroom.”

She was in a room with a large queen-sized bed, its sheets and blankets neatly made. The walls were papered in a green pattern of old flowers. Marcus walked around her, gesturing at how big the room was. “This wardrobe looks old, but it’s actually pretty new, only about ten years old. My parents got it to replace the last one that broke, commissioning it to look exactly the same.”

Stacy stayed rooted to the spot. She looked over her shoulder and saw the second floor hallway extending to the left and right.

“I’m sorry, I realize this is probably pretty boring,” Marcus said.

“No, no, it’s—uh, one moment.” Stacy walked into the room. Her eyes were fixed on the nearest window. She threw it open, sitting on the windowsill.

“What are you doing?!” Marcus shouted.

She swung her legs over the ledge and eyed the ground below. It was only two stories. She’d much rather deal with the injuries of a survivable fall than stay in here. And with that, she dropped out of the window.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Oh, hello.”

She was in the living room, and there was a man standing across from her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked closer and held out his hand, a smile on his face showing his white teeth.

Stacy blinked. She didn’t take the hand. Instead, she looked around. They were in the living room next to the entrance hall...but she couldn’t see the entrance hall. Where there had previously been a wide, open entrance to the front entrance of the house, there was now a single doorway, connecting into...the kitchens. But...the kitchens entrance had been over there—no. Where that doorway had been, there was now a blank wall.

“Are you alright, Ms. Allen?” Marcus asked.

Stacy looked back at him. He was not wearing the same shirt. It was still red, but this one was a button-down, not the thick, almost sweater-looking one from before. “Do you know what’s going on here?” Her voice was harsh, urgent.

Marcus’s face scrunched in confusion. “What’s going on here?” he repeated.

“The whole—the repeating thing!” Stacy said. “This—i-it just—it deteriorated so quickly into this—this weird loop! What the fuck is going on?!”

Marcus took a step back. “Um, I’m sorry, Ms. Allen, but...are you okay?”

“No! I’m not okay! I’m—there was—how do I get out of this house?!”

“I don’t...through the doors?” Marcus shook his head. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“Call someone!” Of course! Stacy was still holding her purse, the same way she had when walking into the house for the first time. She opened it up and took out her phone—and was greeted by the small words ‘No Service’ on the top of the screen. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, we don’t have cell service out here,” Marcus said calmly. “Or Internet. The last storm knocked them both out, and the company hasn’t been back up to fix the towers yet. But you can use my landline.”

“Where is it?” Stacy demanded.

“Um...” Marcus stepped back again. He pointed towards the one other entrance into the room: a wide arch leading into a different sitting area. “Through there, down the hall. On the wall in the room at the end.”

Stacy didn’t say anything else, merely hurrying off in the direction he indicated. She opened the last door at the end of the hall and walked into a small closet. It was dark, full of cleaning supplies, and no phone to be seen. Just in case, she searched the shelves, frantically shoving aside mops and dust rags. Nothing. Forcing down her rising panic, she spun around and walked back into the hallway.

This...was not the hallway.

It was a hallway. It was a hallway in the house. But not the first floor hall she’d run down. It was a second floor hall, one lined with bedrooms and ending in a spiral staircase downward. She stared at it. Then reached out and grabbed the balcony of the staircase. Still as solid as ever.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, Stacy. Think. This is—this is not normal. This has to be something... something supernatural. You’ve been in a supernatural place before. One that was kind of a maze. Kind of like this.” She laughed a bit. It was kind of funny that her life had gone in such a direction to trap her in two supernatural mazes. “There...has to be a trick to this. One exit has to work. Or...maybe you have to do something. Something specific. God. You can figure this out. You can do it.”

She took a moment to steady herself, breathing in, holding it, then breathing out. It was going to be fine. She’d survived worse before. At least nothing in this house was actively hunting her down. With that small reassurance, she headed down the staircase.

The staircase ended in a room with a fireplace. This was part of the house, and she was pretty sure it was supposed to be near this staircase, but it was different in how the stairs led directly into the room. But whatever. She shook that off, and began to look around. Searching for something, anything, that was unusual.

There was nothing in that room. So she headed to the next one and searched that. Again, there was nothing noteworthy. And the same could be said for the next room. And the next. And the next. Every room in this house was just...a room in a house. Nothing that interesting about them, aside from how expensive the furniture and decorations looked. And, obviously, the fact that their order was slightly out of place.

She kept looking, though. And the more she looked through the rooms, the more they got shuffled up. She could recognize most of them by now, but she couldn’t map out where they belonged. The mental image she’d been forming of the house on that first tour was slowly degrading, unraveling at the seams. When she stepped through a door, there was no guarantee that turning around and walking through it again would lead to the same hallway as before. But she kept looking.

Time was passing. She was sure of it, as outside she could see the sky getting darker and darker. But...night time was approaching faster than usual. Her phone still worked, and its clock was still keeping track of time just fine. She timed it out to be sure, counting “one Mississippi, two Mississippi...” and the minute changed the moment she counted sixty Mississippi. The phone was fine. It was the outside that wasn’t working. In just two hours, the sky through the windows darkened from noon to evening. Or...maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was some sort of illusion on the windows. She had no way of knowing. Not all the windows opened, and she didn’t want to try the ones that did, just in case that somehow reset this loop and she lost...whatever progress she’d made. If she’d made any at all.

Stacy wasn’t sure how long she searched the rooms. But after a while, it wore on her. She sat down on the edge of a bed in one of the bedrooms, feeling the weariness in her muscles. She closed her eyes, just for a second.

* * * * * * * * * * 

“Oh, hello.”

She was in the living room, and there was a man standing in front of her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He held out his hand, his mouth smiling.

Stacy blinked. She said nothing, and looked around again. The living room was the same in its furniture and coloring, but the walls were all different. There were doorways on each, all leading into an identical hallway. Four different ways to go, but...only one way to go, really.

“Are you alright?” Marcus asked.

She didn’t say anything, just turned and ran down one hall at random. It was a completely different one than last time, but one she recognized. There had to be something in here! Something that could get her out of this house! She flung open a door at random and began to search the room beyond. It was changing every time, maybe something was different. Maybe there was something she could use to—to—she wasn’t sure what she hoped to do. But maybe there was something!

The rooms were all the same. They weren’t connected in the same way, of course. But she recognized the rooms. She knew what was in them, and their contents hadn’t changed at all. Still, maybe there was something. So she kept looking. She walked through bedroom doors and ended up in the kitchen, went down a central staircase and found herself in a bedroom. Maybe there was something. Maybe there was something. Maybe there was...

“Hello.”

Stacy walked down a staircase and found herself in that living room again. The walls were lined with identical staircases, some heading up, some heading down. There was a man standing at the base of her staircase, waiting for her as she stepped off it. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He held out his hand, a grin on his face.

“Where are we?!” Stacy shouted.

Marcus looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“This!” She gestured at the room, at the dozen identical staircases branching off from it. “This isn’t normal!”

“This is my house,” Marcus said, completely baffled by her tone. “I know it’s a little different from most houses, but—”

“This is more than different! The only house that’s even remotely like this is the fucking Winchester House, and even that doesn’t move its weird architecture around!” Stacy barely restrained herself from grabbing Marcus’s shirt and pulling him down to her level. “Where the fuck are we?!”

“We’re in California,” Marcus said haltingly. “Ms. Allen, please calm down.”

“You know who I am!” Stacy shouted. “You know my name! Why do you keep introducing yourself to me?!”

Marcus backed away. “It—it’s going to be alright,” he said slowly. “I’ll just...I’m going to go get something. You stay here and...and take a moment to breathe.” And he turned and half-ran to one of the staircases, quickly descending.

Stacy wasn’t sure if she wanted to follow him or run as far away as possible. In the end, she turned around and went back up the staircase she came from, finding herself in...what looked like one of the bedrooms. But now there was a door on each wall. She glanced around, and pulled one open at random, heading through.

Searching the rooms wasn’t doing any good. It was just making her tired. Though she hadn’t felt sleepy yet. Or hungry. Or thirsty. Which was weird, because her phone said that she’d been in this house for almost ten hours.

Then her phone abruptly died.

“What?!” Stacy held down the power button to see if it would turn back on. She smacked the side of it, and almost banged it against one of the dressers before thinking better of it. She hadn’t run out of battery. There had been about 60% left, but her phone had died nonetheless, and now she just saw her reflection in the screen. No way to call for help. Not that there had been cell signal in this place for the past few hours. But still. There was an odd sense of finality in her stomach as she stared at her own reflected face.

She had to keep going. Maybe going through the rooms in detail hadn’t helped, but maybe she would eventually find something different. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe.

The first time she saw a hallway that was unfamiliar, she really wasn’t surprised. It just seemed like the natural progression of things to open a bedroom door and find a long, strange hallway extending in front of her. She stepped through the doorway slowly and looked around. This hallway was wallpapered in a cream pattern, some sort of fancy fleur-de-lis on its surface. The floor was white marble tile. And at the distant end, she could see...the front entrance. It took her a moment to recognize it from this far away, but that was definitely the dark wooden door that she’d knocked on who-knows-how-long ago.

Stacy glanced behind her. The door she’d just come through was closed. They always closed behind her, even if she deliberately kept them open. She’d figured that out on her first run through of searching the rooms. Even propping them open with an item did nothing. They would close the second she blinked. When she looked forward again, she half-expected the front entrance to be gone. But it was still there. Still at the distant end of the hall.

Well, there was nowhere else to go. She started walking. Then she picked up the pace to a slow jog. Then a half-run. It was a long, long hallway she had to run down, and she wanted to be sure the front entrance wouldn’t disappear or something. But no matter how fast she went, the end of the hall was still distant.

She didn’t realize the other problem until she bumped her head while running. That made her slow down, and when she looked up, the ceiling was only a couple inches above her. She looked to the sides, and found that if she reached out with both hands, she could touch both walls of the hallway. Confused, she backed up, keeping her hands outstretched. The walls were the same distance away. The ceiling was the same distance away, even as she backed up to a point where she was sure it was higher.

Dread pooled in her stomach. She looked behind her, and found that the door she’d come through was still relatively close. She could turn around and head back into the house. But...the front entrance was in sight. It was there. She couldn’t just give up this opportunity.

So she began walking forward again.

A minute later, the front entrance was only a little closer, and the ceiling was brushing her hair. Two minutes later, she had to keep her head bent. Three minutes later, and she couldn’t stretch her arms all the way out anymore. But the entrance—the exit—was closer. It was definitely closer. She had to keep going.

The ceiling kept getting lower, and soon she was stooping. And then she was crouching. It was hard to move without her knees or elbows bumping against the walls, and the hallway kept closing in. But she could make out the details of the front entrance now, the patterns on the windows in the doors. She got on her hands and knees and crawled. And then the pressing ceiling forced her even lower, and she was pulling herself along the floor.

The front entrance loomed large, but she could see it. Through the small square that the hallway had become, she could see the base of the door. She pulled herself further and her shoulders and hips scraped against the walls. It was so close. If she could just...wriggle herself a bit farther...

And then she stopped.

There was no way she could go any farther. And yet, the end of this tunnel-like hallway was an arm’s reach away. The exit was there. She stopped, breathing heavily, the sound echoing in the small square she was trapped in. It was there.

Her arms were extended in front of her. Stacy raised a hand and reached, straining forward against the press of the walls. Her fingers whiffed through the air, and the very tip of her longest finger brushed against the wood of the door. Nothing happened. But maybe—maybe if she could just get a good hand on it...maybe...maybe...

She blinked.

“Hello.”

And here was the living room again. But...something was wrong. Beneath her feet, the floor felt tilted. She looked to where the floor joined the left wall, and saw it angle to the left. Then she looked to where the floor joined the right wall, and saw it angle in the exact same way. But...that was impossible. It couldn’t tilt in both directions, both towards her and away from her.

There was a man standing in front of her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to see you.” He held out a hand, his lips parted and teeth bared. He was wearing a different red outfit. A red suit jacket and pants, with a white shirt and black bow tie.

The floor felt tilted. Stacy could feel the pull of gravity, but as she turned, trying to get her bearings, she couldn’t tell which way gravity was pulling her. Just that it was...pulling. It looked like the furniture was sliding across the floor, but each piece stayed exactly where it was, unmoving. The paintings on the wall—clusters of colors and shapes in the vague imitation of faces or landscapes—did not swing, but they seemed to tilt as well.

Stacy looked at Marcus. “You’re part of this, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Marcus asked, still showing his teeth.

“You have to be! I-I was wondering for a while if you were trapped in this loop too, but—but you have to be part of this. There’s no way you’re not! Not with the way you keep changing.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Stacy lunged forward, reaching out to grab him.

He was not that far away. He was standing barely three feet away, but as she reached, her hands stopped short of grabbing him. She staggered, then tried again, stepping forward. It felt like she was making progress. The floor wasn’t moving like a treadmill under her feet. But Marcus didn’t get any closer.

“I think you need to calm down,” he said. “I’ll see you later.” And he turned around and walked away, disappearing through an open door on the back wall.

“Get back here, you—!” Stacy broke into a run. But the ground sloped—or at least, it felt like it did, even though nothing in the room changed. She lost her balance and fell to the floor, briefly closing her eyes as she braced herself for the fall.

And when she looked up again, she was in a different room. Another parlor.

“Motherfucker,” she muttered, standing up. Well, now she had a goal, at least. She had to find Marcus—if that was really his name—and...somehow get him to let her out. She wasn’t sure how to do that part. But she would try.

The parlor she found herself in was familiar, but when she opened a door, it revealed an unfamiliar hallway. She definitely hadn’t seen this hall before. It wasn’t in the original house, nor was it that hall that closed in on her. But she still didn’t like it. Well, at least this one had other doors. Doors that led to...unfamiliar rooms.

And so she searched again, looking for any sign of Marcus. She didn’t know if she would be able to. As far as she could tell, Marcus only showed up occasionally, at the start of each deconstruction, when the house became even more strange. So, maybe she just had to wander until that happened. But she decided to look for him anyway. It gave her some sense of purpose, the illusion that she was doing something more than just walking around endlessly.

These rooms were new. She had never seen them before. And once she left one behind, she didn’t see it again. Some of them weren’t even one room. Not really. She found herself in a kitchen where the counters and appliances were interrupted by a bed and a couple dressers, the clean white walls occasionally covered in strips of pink wallpaper. And as she kept wandering, going down halls and stairs, through doors and rooms, this happened more and more. The floors were wood planks with tiles inserted into them. The ceilings had chandeliers and bare bulbs. The walls were a blend of paints and papers and occasionally bare concrete that all mashed together.

There were no windows to be seen. None that were functional, at least. Some of them were embedded in walls, with wood and plaster behind the glass. No sign of the outside. But occasionally, she heard thunder, which sounded distant and muffled, as if she were dozens of feet underground.

She was starting to get tired again, her feet starting to hurt from all this walking. Should she sit down? Would that cause another deconstruction? Did she want another one of those? Sure, it would probably lead her to Marcus, but things were already strange enough in this house as it was.

But soon, she did it anyway. She sat down on the nearest sofa without even thinking and closed her eyes.

“Hello.”

The living room again. This time, she couldn’t feel that tilting feeling, but...this was still wrong. The lines of the walls, ceiling, and floor didn’t join together right, their angles too small or too big, but it didn’t come together to form the shape they should. The furniture was proportioned the same way. She stared at a chair and tried to process how it was flat on the floor, when it should have fallen on its side, with one of its legs definitely longer than the rest. The floor that looked like it was sloping, but was level beneath her feet.

Marcus was standing in front of her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to see you,” he said, his hand already out and his face split in a grin.

“What are you?” Stacy asked. “You’re—you can’t be human. Can you?”

“You’re right. I can’t be.”

“Well...what do you want?” Stacy wished that she’d brought her gun. But, well, that had seemed like a bad thing to bring to a job interview. God, how long ago had she driven up here? Were Mathew and Larkin okay? “You’ve trapped me in here. Good job. What do you want now that you’ve got me?”

Marcus’s hand curled up, and he pulled his arm back to his side. “Well, there’s really no delicate way to go about it. Do you really want to know what we want?”

“Yes, I—wait.” Stacy stared at him. Then her eyes darted around the room, even though it made her head swim. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Marcus chuckled. “You mean, you haven’t picked up on it yet? You haven’t felt it?”

“Felt what?” Stacy fought to keep the fear from her voice, but the nerves crept in regardless.

“No, I want you to try. Go ahead.” His grin stretched. “Try to reach out. See if you can notice it.”

Stacy glared at him, but let out a little huff and did as he said. She breathed deeply, trying to center herself and see if she could pick up on anything unusual.

And, once she focused, she realized that something was off.

It felt like she was being watched.

She spun around, expecting to see some other creature creeping up behind her. But instead, there was just a wall. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She looked around the room again. There was no one there except her and Marcus, but...but it felt like there was another person. Another presence. She closed her eyes, trying to narrow down where the feeling came from.

But she couldn’t narrow it down. The presence wasn’t in any one location. It was all around her.

Her eyes flew open in alarm, and Marcus laughed. “Circle takes the square, I see!” he said. “Yes. You’ve found us.”

“This...this whole place...” Stacy whispered. She started to back away, but it wouldn’t make any difference. “It’s—it’s aware.”

“Yes. We’re very aware.” Marcus’s grin stretched again, despite his expression not changing. “We are alive, Stacy Allen. And we need you. And others, of course, but you’re great. It’s not often that someone who’s already claimed wanders in here without protection.”

“I-I—wha—y—” Stacy’s eyes darted around. Now that she knew, the presence around her weighed down on her shoulders and chest. The angles were shifting, changing every time she looked at a corner, and yet the room was the same. Her breathing quickened. She could feel her heart in her neck. And then she turned and ran through a door that hadn’t been there when she first looked at the wall, Marcus’s laughter echoing behind her.

Now that she knew about it, she couldn’t ignore the presence. It was in every room: every kitchen, every parlor, every hallway. It surrounded her, a looming feeling of something that was alive. There were no eyes to see or words to hear, but she felt it nonetheless, pressing down on her no matter where she ran.

The rooms began to blur together. More and more of them merged, creating odd shapes where walls overlapped. The furniture was all different, but quickly blurred together. And as she explored more and more of this strange, living place, she found that the furniture changed every time she turned her back. Sure, there was a bed in this room. But when she glanced away and back, it changed—a wooden frame instead of metal, blue sheets instead of yellow. The ovens from the kitchen changed models, and the sinks were a different design and age every time she looked at one.

There were no more windows. And she couldn’t hear the thunder anymore. She thought once again of being underground. Far away from the outside.

...No, that wasn’t exactly right. She wasn’t underground. She was deep inside something, and the more she walked, the deeper she went. And the feeling of that presence never ceased. Her back crawled with the feeling of being watched. She was inside something, going deeper into something, just as it wanted her to do. And now, her thoughts turned to being swallowed by some enormous creature.

Panic sank into her heart, causing it to beat rapidly in her chest. She tore through the rooms, pulling cushions off ever-shifting sofas and chairs. She opened every drawer and flung away the clothes she found inside, their texture changing every time she picked them up. She even tried to turn on any appliances she ran across, or use any sink or toilet that sprouted from the walls. None of them worked. And she found nothing.

Her fists hammered the walls, trying to find some weak spot in the wood or plaster or concrete. But they were all solid, even the spots where one material met another. The doors would not stay open. She tried to hold one by the handle and stare at it, but she blinked against her will, and her fist closed on empty air. The floors and walls were not level. They tilted at odd angles, and yet all the furniture stayed in place. The ceiling rose and lowered every time she went somewhere new. Like something huge was breathing.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but eventually, she stopped, breathing heavily, tasting metal in her mouth. Tears blurred her vision, and she leaned against one tilted wall to try and compose herself. Her attempts failed. Sobs tore at her throat. After everything she’d survived, was she going to die in here? Only five people would notice her disappearance. And only two would really care. They would have to grow up without her, wondering what happened to their mother.

“M-Mat...Lark...” Stacy cried. “I-I’m sorry...I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry, C—I-I’m sorry, I...” She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the oddly warm surface of the wall.

“Hello.”

That voice. Marcus. She didn’t open her eyes to look at him—it as the voice came from behind her.

“It’s so lovely to see you.”

All at once, an emotion rose in her throat, something which she couldn’t identify, but was hot and sharp and desperate. If she was going to die, it wouldn’t be in this fucking place. “Someone! Anyone! Help!” Her eyes flew open as she banged her fists against this wall. “Please! Anyone, help! Please! Is anyone here?!” She didn’t know who she was shouting at. Just that she wanted—needed something to come get her out of there. “P-please! Help! Heeeelp!”

Behind her, Marcus laughed. Stacy’s fists slowed, coming to rest against a wallpapered wall that was the same as any other wall in this place. She stared at the meaningless pattern for a few seconds as her breathing calmed. Then she gradually turned around to look at this...whatever it was.

“We expect people to reach that point a lot sooner,” Marcus said, smiling wide. “You’re a lot stronger than you look, Ms. Allen.”

“Shut...the fuck...up.” The words came out from behind clenched teeth. “You fucking—fucking—angler fish motherfucker.”

“Angler fish? Oh, you mean, like a lure?” Marcus shook its head. “I’m afraid you’re a bit off the mark there, Ms. Allen. I’m not part of it the way a light is part of an angler fish. But we share a...relationship. Something symbiotic. We wish for the same thing.”

“My death.”

“Not in the traditional sense. But you will no longer exist. It’s not so bad, to sleep in a cradle of nothingness. You may find it much better than your current state...of...” And then Marcus’s expression shifted into something Stacy hadn’t seen before: confusion. Genuine confusion, not whatever act it was putting on before. For a second, Stacy wondered what was so confusing about her. And then she realized it wasn’t looking at her, but instead, at something just over her shoulder.

There was something resting on her back.

Stacy stiffened. The something crept up, around her shoulder blade and onto her right shoulder. She glanced at it without turning her head, and saw something gray and shaped like a hand.

“What?” Marcus’s voice was low. “How? That—that should be impossible.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Stacy spun around to look behind her. And she caught a glimpse of something that she hadn’t seen in almost a year, but that she would never forget. It disappeared a second after her eyes landed on it, and revealed...a hallway. A straight, narrow corridor with wood-panel walls that had not been behind her before.

“Stacy,” Marcus said, his voice a growl of a threat. “Don’t you—”

But she was already gone, running down this new hallway. Behind her, she heard Marcus scream, a sound that was vaguely human but slightly off. Something heavy hit the ground. She didn’t turn to look.

Doors appeared on the walls of the hallway, each one flinging open before her as the corridor started to turn and shift. She dodged them seconds before she would run into their open surfaces. Another heavy thing hit the ground behind her, and the floor started to shift with the sound of wood groaning. The doors disappeared, and instead, more hallways started to branch off the main one, each as twisting as the last.

There was a whisper in her ear: “blue walls on the left. take it.”

And then she turned a corner and found herself at an intersection of four hallways, each one different. The one on the left had its walls covered in blue wallpaper. Stacy hesitated, then took it.

The new hall was straight for a few moments, but then came the shifting sound of a house creaking. And the floor started to slope. Gradually, but increasing until she was practically running uphill. And it kept getting steeper. She couldn’t keep her balance. The whisper came again, “grab the right-hand wall.”

Stacy kept running until she slipped, and then she flung herself to the right, hands slamming against the plaster—and grabbing onto an edge. She glanced to the side and noticed another hallway branching off of this one, with pale yellow-painted walls. Her grip tightened, and she pulled herself against the continuous tilting of the floor and into the yellow hallway.

The hall was sideways. She was standing on the right wall, with wooden floor to her left and plastered ceiling to her right. But the hall wasn’t moving, so she ran. Around her, the groaning of wood and metal and plaster echoed, growing louder and louder until it was almost deafening.

The walls and ceiling began to crack, spewing paint flakes and plaster dust. The floorboards pushed out, and she edged closer to the ceiling to avoid them hitting her. She could feel the wall beneath her feet growing weaker, her footsteps echoing against a hollow space behind it. The plaster creaked. But the groaning and shattering of the house wasn’t enough to block out the following whisper, “you can push through the ceiling here. turn now.”

Stacy hesitated, then turned and shoved herself against the plaster ceiling to her right. It broke easily, covering her in gritty white dust, and as she passed through she found herself in another hallway. This one had white walls, with the slightest brown tint, and at the far end...was a dark wooden door.

“run.”

She broke into a sprint. Behind her, she heard the sounds of disaster: breaking, cracking, shattering. She pushed herself harder. The hallway did not shrink. The door did not elude her, growing closer—closer—closer—

Her hand grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and she barreled out into an overcast afternoon. She staggered, nearly falling down the few steps that led up to the house’s front door, then recovered and bolted. She didn’t stop until she was beyond the low brick wall and the iron gate. The moment she crossed over that threshold, she stopped, panting, and turned to look behind her.

The house looked the same as it had when she’d first seen it. But she could still feel that presence, like the house was watching her. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was angry. She didn’t stop to think about it, instead turning back around. Her car was parked on the edge of the driveway. Or, well, technically it wasn’t hers. It belonged to Mark and Amy. But she didn’t care. It was her way out.

Stacy looked down at herself. Somehow, she looked exactly the same as she had when she walked into that house. She wasn’t covered in that fine white dust, and she still had her purse. And inside the purse were the car keys. She dug them out and unlocked the car, ducking into the driver’s seat and closing it behind her.

The radio came on when she started the car. Some boring talk show, but she almost cried when she heard the hosts’ voices. She checked her phone, and found it wouldn’t turn on. Still out of battery. That was fine, she could drive back. She could go back.

She let out a sigh of relief, resting her head against the headrest and closing her eyes.

Finally.

...

There was something on her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open. Instinctively, she looked up at the car’s rear view mirror to see what was going on behind her. She saw her face. Her eyes were pure white, with black liquid flowing down her cheeks. 

And then she saw the hand on her shoulder. 

And then she saw its face.

Stacy screamed, sitting up straight and whirling around to look into the back seat. There was nothing there. But then...she looked back at the mirror. There was a handprint of thick gray dust on her right shoulder. And there were streams of black liquid coming from her eyes, though her eyes were their normal brown.

She reached up and wiped at her face, and her fingers came away covered in black liquid. She expected it to be viscous and foul-smelling, but it was the consistency of water, and smelled like nothing. She brushed at her shoulder, and some dust flew into the air, while more was smeared into the fabric of her shirt.

There was nothing in the mirror. No face but her own.

She wanted to get out of the car and run, but she had no other means of getting the hell away from this freaky house. The bus didn’t run all the way out here; she’d checked. So, she put the car in drive and headed out, constantly glancing at the mirror.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The clock on the car dashboard read 5:13 pm when she headed home. Stacy arrived back at Mark and Amy’s house at 6:09 pm. The time didn’t match up. She had definitely been in that house longer than just a few hours. But at this point, the difference didn’t phase her. Of course this supernatural entity would mess with time. Of course it would.

She slammed the car door behind her as she got out and half-ran up to the front door. It wasn’t locked, so she flung it open and hurried inside.

“Mom?” Mathew was in the living room, playing games on one of Mark’s consoles. He paused it and stood up. “Are...you okay?” he asked slowly.

“I-I-I’m...” Stacy breathed deeply, trying to compose herself. She probably looked like a mess. “I’m...fine. Now.”

“Did it, uh...not go well?” Mathew asked.

Stacy laughed. “No. No, it didn’t. But it’s okay now. I think I got out of it.”

Mathew looked confused. “Out of what?”

“Mom?” Larkin’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Are you home?”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m home.” Stacy stepped further into the house, looking around. “Are Mark and Amy here?”

“Yeah, I think they’re busy doing stuff,” Mathew said.

“Great.” Stacy sighed. “I’m going to have to ask Amy what website she got that job listing from. Maybe I can report it. Prevent anyone else from going up there.” 

“Did...uh...” Mathew paused, trying to find the words. “Did something weird happen? Like...you know, weird weird.”

Before Stacy could answer, Larkin appeared in the hallway entrance, followed shortly by one of the dogs. The golden retriever seemed happy enough, tail wagging up a storm, but the moment the dog saw Stacy, that tail stopped. A low growl rumbled through the air. And Larkin stopped, staring at Stacy with a horrified expression. “Mom, what’s wrong with your eyes?!”

“My eyes?!” Stacy instinctively touched her face, fingers resting on her eyelid. But of course, she didn’t feel anything wrong. “I don’t—hang on a second.” She started to go to the bathroom, intending to look into the mirror, but that would mean going past Larkin and the dog to get into the hallway, and the dog only growled louder when she approached. So she stopped. “What’s wrong with my eyes? Lark? Mat?”

Mathew shook his head. “I-I don’t see anything.”

“Your pupils are gone!” Larkin insisted. “And there’s—there’s black stuff under them!”

Stacy felt her heart stop. It was just like she’d seen in the car’s rear view mirror. “Lark, I-I think this is one of those things that only you can see,” she said slowly.

“So something weird did happen,” Mathew said, nodding once decisively.

“Yes,” Stacy said. “That house I went to. It was...it wasn’t an actual—”

Then Larkin screamed and pointed behind her. The dog started to bark. Stacy spun around, barely catching a glimpse of something shaped like a human before it disappeared. “It’s the ghost!” Larkin shouted. “The ghost from the house!”

She was afraid of that. But having her suspicions confirmed did nothing to alleviate the slowly dawning dread and fear.

“What?! I-I didn’t see it!” Mathew’s head darted around.

“It was here!” Larkin insisted.

“Well, I know that! But why?!” Mathew looked at Stacy. “Isn’t it—isn’t it supposed to be stuck in that house? Isn’t that why we left? A-and why everything else has been trying to get to us for it?”

“Yes, that’s exactly why,” Stacy said, her voice distant. “I don’t know what changed.”

But she had a suspicion. She remembered, again, the last time she’d seen John. That encounter with the glitchy, spasming thing that shifted its appearances between all of them. She remembered his pleading with it to leave them alone in exchange for doing whatever it wanted to him, and how it had accepted the offer.

She hadn’t made an offer. But she had called for help, called for anyone to come help her in that strange house. And something did come help her. Maybe...that help came with a price. What had Marcus said? What had it said once it dropped the facade? “It’s not often that someone who’s already claimed wanders in here without protection.”

These pieces were forming together to create a terrifying image in her mind, something that made her sick to think about.

“Is everything alright in here?” That question came from Mark, entering the living room from the hallway. “Hey, calm down, girl.” He bent over and started petting his dog, trying to get her to relax.

Behind him, Amy showed up as well. “Who screamed?”

“Amy!” Stacy shouted urgently. “Where did you find that job listing?!”

“That what?” Amy asked, blinking in surprise.

“The one you gave me! That I went to today. Where’d you find it? What website?”

“I...don’t know what you mean,” Amy said slowly. “I don’t think I gave you any job listing.”

“Yes you did!” Stacy insisted. “On Monday, you gave me the listing for this job. You said you printed it off online. Where?”

Amy shook her head, baffled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never given you any job listings. Not from online, at least.”

“Why would you print it out?” Mark asked, confused.

“I didn’t!” Amy insisted. “Stacy. I know you were going to an interview today, but...I thought you found that yourself.”

“What?! No!” Stacy shook her head. “You definitely gave it to me! Monday, like I said. I was putting away the groceries, like I said, and you walked into the kitchen and asked me if I’d found a job yet. I said no, and you handed me the listing. I remember it clearly! Your hair was in a ponytail, a-and you were wearing a red jacket—” Then she stopped.

A red jacket.

A red jacket with the hood pulled up.

“I don’t...own any red jackets,” Amy said slowly. “Stacy, are you okay? You’re really pale all of a sudden.”

Had “Amy” ever looked her in the eyes that day? Had “she” ever given any details to indicate it was actually Amy speaking? Or...had that just been Stacy’s mind filling in the blanks? After all, if she was approached by something with long dark hair, while living in a house with someone who had long dark hair...wouldn’t she make assumptions?

Mathew reached the same conclusion shortly after Stacy. He gasped and looked around again, as if this mystery intruder was still inside the house. Larkin was a bit more confused. “What does Mom’s job have to do with what happened to her eyes?” he asked.

“That’s a very good question,” Mark said, still petting his dog to try and calm her. “It probably wasn’t all that it seemed, but still, wondering what can do that to your eyes.”

Stacy stiffened. Slowly, she turned to look at him. “Mark,” she said in a low voice. “How can you tell what happened to my eyes?”

Mark stopped petting the dog. For just a second, and then he started again. “Well I mean, I just guessed that something happened. Did they make you put on makeup?” He chuckled. Silently, Amy reached over and touched his shoulder. He glanced at her, and the two of them exchanged looks, having a whole silent conversation.

“I can’t see what’s going on with Mom’s eyes,” Mathew said, glaring at Mark. “Only Larkin can, and he’s special. How come you can?”

“Where did you say this job was, again?” Amy asked quickly.

“Somewhere out of town,” Stacy said, taking a cautious step backwards. “This big house—more like a mansion, really. Owned by this...this ‘guy’ who called himself Marcus—”

“Fuck,” Mark whispered. He stood up straight, and he and Amy exchanged more looks.

“You guys...” Stacy paused. “What do you know?”

And again, Mark and Amy looked at each other. As they did, Stacy felt...something. She could almost hear that whisper again, muttering something she couldn’t quite make out. If she had to guess what it said, it would be...“we are together now.”

“I think we should all sit down,” Mark said. “We need to have a talk.”

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART THREE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Now you’re faced with an option after Frankie left a tool at your house. How do you make your feelings for Frankie known?

W/C: 2k

Warnings: language, Benny is a menace, fluff :)

A/N: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION! Thank you all for tagging along!

You hardly slept last night. Your mind was filled with the handsome repairman, his smile and his laughter and the fact that he left a vital piece of his equipment in your house. It had to be a sign, right?

Whether or not it was a purposeful move is the question that tormented you until the early hours of the morning. He was a great man, most definitely, but did he mean his jokes and assistance in a way beyond the professionalism he had to have? You couldn’t figure out, and it left you tossing and turning like you had when the air conditioner was broken.

In the morning, you still aren’t quite sure what to make of it. You’d thought that sleeping on it might bring some sense of clarity, but it really hasn’t. Enjoying the cold air of your newly fixed air conditioner, you stare at the wall as you sip your morning coffee. Is there even a solid answer? You’re not entirely sure.

Well, whether or not you’re going to make a move, you suppose he’s going to need that wrench. Lifting your phone, you dial the shop’s number, which is now saved into your speed dial list.

“Standard Oil and Heating,” a man’s voice sounds from the phone, “this is Benny.”

“Hi,” you say with a somewhat cheerful voice. “Uh, is Catfish in today?” You ask the man.

“Gimme one second,” the man murmurs. You can hear paper flipping, as he looks through something on the desk. “Uh, can I ask why you’re calling?” He clarifies.

“Oh, of course. He fixed my oven yesterday and he left one of his tools behind.”

The man- Benny- chuckles. “Oh, you’re the one with the fucked-up house! We’ve heard about you.”

That makes you laugh, but more importantly, makes your stomach flutter nervously. Frankie’s mentioned you to his coworkers. Whether it was in passing or in depth, you don’t know, but he’s mentioned you. Talked about you. “Yeah, that would be me,” you shrug and sip your coffee.

There’s another shuffling of paper and the man makes a small noise of discontent. “Well, it looks like he won’t be in today for whatever reason, but he’ll be here tomorrow. If you wanna bring it in, I can give it to him.”

You pause, then shake your head. Even though he can’t see it, you’re sure he can figure it out. “That’s alright. I’ll just bring it in tomorrow then.”

Benny chuckles a little. “I think he’ll like that. Do you want me to let him know?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just pop in when I have the time,” you say casually, as if you’re not about to rearrange your entire day around to do so. The note from Benny- I think he’ll like that- makes your smile widen.

“No problem. We’ll see ya then,” he tells you and nods before hanging up.

Well, now you have about twenty four hours before you have to return that wrench. The decision before you still hangs heavy in the air. There’s a good chance he likes you, especially if the man who answered the shop phone was right. His words were subtle but hinting, and the idea was that Frankie has talked about you.

But what if he hasn’t? What if he just mentioned that you have a chronically disastrous house and that was the end of the story? God, there are so many questions, and it makes you annoyed to no end. You groan aloud, grateful to live alone, and drop your head to the cool wood of your kitchen table.

Love is too complicated. Can you even categorize it as love right now? Maybe it’s more of an affection situation. There are too many labels for things, too many variables and ifs and whens. Too many reasons things can go right or can go very very wrong.

Worst of all, if Frankie doesn’t feel the same, you lose a damn good repairman. Well, he’s a good guy. You’re sure he’d still help, but that banter and laughter would certainly be gone. The relationship you have now would be thrown out the window, which you may one day need him to fix.

You have a job, and you do your work as the day progresses, but Frankie’s face takes up permanent residence in the back of your mind, unable to let you focus well. Even as you snag a spare monster cookie during your lunch break, you think of him and how warmly he helped you after you burned yourself.

Your decision wavers back and forth. You have periods of definitiveness, moments where you’re certain you’re going to make a move and moments where you decide you’re going to do nothing at all. It’s agonizing, your inability to make a decision.

Finally, you reach the best conclusion you think you can have. When you drop off the wrench tomorrow, you’ll just read the room. You’ll carefully observe his body language, the way he speaks, and try to take the clues you can find in person. Yeah, that should work. It’s probably the best option too.

Settling in bed, you take a while to fall asleep, pondering possibilities. Eventually, you fall asleep and even your dreams are filled with confusion and twists, a theme of uncertainty filling your unconscious mind.

Then the morning comes. You get dressed into something you’d normally wear to go out running errands. You don’t want anything too cute, anything too casual or sloppy. Even then, you change t-shirts three times until you remind yourself it’s nothing of consequence.

You drink your to-go coffee as you drive to the shop, which you’ve surprisingly never been to in person. For as much as you use their services, you’ve never seen the building. Walking inside, you peek around and find no one. Taking a deep breath and making yourself relax, you ring the buzzer on the desk that sounds in the back.

A man comes to the front, wearing working clothes and a tool belt. His outfit is similar to Frankie’s, but he’s omitted the ball cap. “Hi,” he comments, slightly confused.

“Hey, I’m here for Catfish?” You ask, looking through the window behind the desk that shows the back of the shop. You hold up the wrench, hoping that gives a little indication.

“Oh! You’re her!” The man nods, blue eyes brightening and blonde scruff moving with his smile. “I’m Benny, the one you talked to yesterday.”

He offers his hand and you shake it, smiling and introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too! Fish loves when he gets sent to your place,” he chuckles. “Are you here… just to drop off the wrench?” He asks, implying the very thing that you spent the whole night pondering.

“Hopefully not,” you shrug nervously, an awkward smile on your face.

Benny nods and shoots you a knowing smile. “Fish really likes you.  I’ll just spoil that one for you,” he laughs. “The guy’s like a brother. I can read him damn well. Okay, enough of that. I’ll send him out here, or do you wanna come on back?”

“I’ll come back with you?” You say, half-questioning and half-stating. The man waves you along and you follow him into the back.

“Fish,” Benny calls, and Frankie’s head pops up from a tool bench. He’s facing away from the two of you.

“What do you want?” He grumbles, not turning. He’s too focused on whatever he’s tinkering with, using pliers and wire and tape.

“God, you’re an asshole, Frank. Sure you don’t wanna leave?” He asks you jokingly.

At the question being directed elsewhere, Frankie turns and his eyes widen as he spots you. “Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks.  Benny respectfully backs out of the room without saying anything, allowing the two of you to have your conversation.

“You left your wrench,” you chuckle and awkwardly hold it up.

“Oh, that’s where I left it,” Frankie says, though you learn that he’s a terrible liar through the tone of his voice. “Thanks for bringing that back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him and smile.

There’s a beat of silence before the both of you try to speak. Neither of you manage to get anything out before you realize the other is speaking. Then you stumble over your words, each of you assuring the other that they go. Then there’s more of that, letting the other speak, and silence, then he breaks it.

“I, uh, left that on purpose,” he admits, face reddening beneath the brim of his blue ball cap.

“Well, I wanted to bring it back specifically to say that I really like you,” you admit and fold your arms awkwardly.

His face practically lights up, looking up at you with a mixture of love and shock and excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod and place the wrench down on the work table in front of him. “What time do you work until tonight? Would you like to come back to my cursed house and I’ll make dinner?” You offer, leaning against his table.

Frankie grins. “I’d love that, yeah. I’ll bring my tool belt just in case,” he chuckles, which makes you genuinely laugh and in turn widens his smile. “You don’t have to make anything though.”

“I will though,” you shrug, your body loosening now that the tension is gone. He feels the same. “Now that my oven is working, we’re all good.”

He chuckles and looks down at the wiring piece he was working on before looking back at you like he’d look at a gorgeous work of art. “I work until 5. Sometime after that?” He offers.

“Seven it is. Do you have any food restrictions?”

He shakes his head. “I eat anything and everything in massive amounts,” he chuckles. “I’m sure anything you make would be great.”

“Well, I’ll text you what I’m making if I can have your phone number,” you offer, a little confidence boosting from the fact that he clearly reciprocates your feelings.

“Yeah,” he grins and takes your phone when you hand it to him, entering his contact. Fix-it Frankie: cell, 589-283-1975.

“Fix-it Frankie?” You laugh and beam at him. “God, you’re a dope.”

He shrugs and blushes but he’s still clearly happy, more than willing to take your teasing. “Alright, I gotta keep working on this, but I’ll walk you out,” he offers and stands.

The two of you walk to the front and Frankie opens the door for you. You walk outside and he follows. “Well, see you tonight,” you grin at him.

“See you then,” he nods.

The two of you go for the hug, but awkwardly dodge to each side, trying to figure out the proper angle. When the gap between your bodies finally closes, you realize neither of you considered your faces. They’re awkwardly smushed together, lips on lips. You’re kissing.

“Oh no,” you laugh and back up, cupping Frankie’s face and softly scratching at the stubble.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Frankie mutters, embarrassed but laughing as he looks into your eyes.

Your face is still close to his, your bodies in a hugging position. “Well, we better do that right,” you giggle.

Frankie nods, his cheeks hurting from how much you’ve made him smile. It falls as his face closes the distance to yours, kissing you gently and sighing into your lips.

The moment is short, soft and sweet. You’re in public and fully conscious of it, and you don’t want to seem weird. When you break away, you kiss his cheek, admiring the scratch of his beard against your lips. “See you tonight, Fix-it Frankie,” you tease and walk off to your car.

“See you!” He calls and raises one large hand in a wave. He’s still flustered as you drive off and wiggle your fingers at him in a similar wave. His eyes follow your car until it’s out of sight.

Frankie walks back inside and rolls his eyes at the sight of his blonde best friend staring at him. “Don’t you even-“

“Hell yeah!” Benny whoops and holds up the wrench as if it were a victory prize.

“Shut the fuck up,” he frowns and snatches it from his hand, tucking it back in his tool belt.

As annoyed as he is by Benny, he can’t be mad. He has a date tonight with a woman he already knows can cook and hold her own in such a shitty house- well, aside from repairs. Thank God for faulty air conditioning.

-

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