#this isn’t even all the art I’ve made
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Summary: After one last screaming match and a good cry, Feyre is finally ready to move on from her lousy ex and rebuild the life he took her away from. She didn't imagine she'd be right back in the thick of it, reviving buried feelings for her best friend's cousin.
OR;
Feyre dumps Tamlin, moves back to big city life, and gets herself an alpha who will treat her right.
AN: Omegaverse!Feysand, as promised. A gift for @whatishowedyouinthedark. If you hadn't posted Too Sweet, I don't know that this would have left the drafts. This ended up being 4.3k, but there will be a morning after chapter as well.
CW: NSFW, mildly dubious consent/coercion
Chapter I
“You sure you’re alright, Feyre?” Another ounce of weight seemed to lift from her shoulders at the soft worry in Mor’s voice. “I know you don’t really want to talk about this yet, but I’m always here for you.”
“I know. And I’m okay, Mor. I’ll be even better in, oh—” She lifted her wrist enough to glance at the time. “—six hours when you meet me outside SFO.” Her friend stayed quiet a moment longer. “I’ve wasted so much time and energy on that guy. He doesn’t deserve my tears too.”
“Damn right. I can’t wait to see you. It’s been so long, Feyre.”
“I know.”
That’s what it had really come to. The lost time. The isolation. A year ago, Feyre had been at the center of it all, her art sales lucrative enough to keep her head above water, her friend circle close but full of life. When Tamlin’s work had taken him out of the big city and to someplace more remote, Feyre had imagined it would be temporary. Her “nest egg” from her art sales would only need to hold her for a few months before she could dive right back into dealing with her clientele face-to-face.
But whatever silver lining her situation came with was in short supply. Hopeful as she had been once upon a time, nothing could change the fact that this move halfway across the country was made with only the purpose of separating her from the life and people she knew. Feyre was just ashamed it had taken her so long to see it herself. She’d confronted him last night and the truth had all come to light. “So what if your account is running low? Do I not take care of you regardless? I thought this was what you wanted, Feyre. Isn’t this what all omegas want? Someone to depend on?”
It turned out Feyre and Tamlin’s views on designations were worlds apart.
After a devastating break up fight and a good long cry, Feyre had locked herself in the guest room and called Mor with the promise that she was scraping together what she had left and coming home the next afternoon. “Say no more, Feyre. I’ll get Rhysie to make that ticket first class for you.”
“Don’t you dare, Mor.” But for the first time in months there had been laughter beneath her words. For once she didn’t find herself rolling her eyes when Mor reminded her that her older cousin was rich and single, last she heard of it. Not that Feyre’s memory needed jogging on that point. Ever since Rhys had stepped into her first art showing, oozing raw confidence and control, she’d been no better than a school girl doodling hearts and initials in her journal margins. But he’d then flown out to manage his father’s New York business, his return to California only in the past few months, when Feyre was long gone herself.
She shook off the flush running through her body, trying to focus on Mor jabbering in her ear about events around the city. Served her right, lusting after an alpha so far out of her league. Rhys might be nice enough to buy her paintings or bump her flight ticket to first class, but she certainly had no illusions that he would be the male helping her through her next heat. Hell, by now he likely had an omega of his own, hand-selected by his prick of a father.
Not exactly fond of the flare of… something… that thought sent through her, Feyre stood, pacing the few feet she dared from her carry-on in the crowded terminal. “Hey, girl. We’ll be boarding any minute. Can I let you go for now?”
“Absolutely. Love you lots. I’ll see you tonight. Don’t eat anything huge. We’ve got dinner plans.”
~~~~~
Dinner plans amounted to a delivery of Feyre’s favorite chinese food not even five minutes after she was settled in from the car ride home. “You spoil me, Mor,” she said, setting down her chopsticks long enough to shrug into the oversized hoodie behind her that smelled absolutely delightful for some reason and debate the nearly identical bottles of red nail polish in front of her. Her friend certainly had a signature color.
“Someone has to,” Mor groused, starting an episode of a cop show they’d seen one too many times. “If you won’t spoil yourself, your bestie’s gonna do it for you.” She eyed Feyre’s newly acquired hoodie with a slight smirk. “Among a few others.”
“What? I was cold. And what do you mean, others?”
Mor just waved a hand in dismissal. “Rhys, Cass, and Az are around here all the time. Rhys lives a floor above me, for that matter. You know they’re all thrilled you’re back in town. Emerie is excited to meet you too. I think you guys will really hit it off.” Mor sighed, a wistful look in her eyes.
“You really like this one, don’t you?”
“She’s amazing. And she’s been so patient with me. You know how my family can be about my preferences. She hasn’t said much, but I think her family gives her a lot of the same shit about it. She gets it. Gets me.” Feyre’s heart just about melted at that and she reached across the couch to squeeze Mor’s hand. “I even asked—”
The front door opened then, to both their surprise, Cassian falling through the frame with a shit-eating grin on his face. “She’s back! Feyre Archeron, where have you been?! C’mere.” She squealed as he lifted her by the hips to spin her around
Mor shook her head, mumbling about how this was supposed to be girls’ night before everyone saw her at Rita’s the next evening. “Sorry, Mor,” another voice said from the door, warm, rich, and amused. “We saw you ladies pull in earlier from the window. I kept him there as long as I could. It’s good to see you, Feyre.”
Grinning ear to ear, Feyre braced a hand on Cassian’s chest until the vertigo faded. “Yeah, good to see you guys. I—What?” she asked, finally looking at Rhys.
He was just as she remembered. It had been fice years since he’d flown out to manage that east coast business after earning his business degree and he hadn’t changed one bit—still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. The only thing that truly caught her off guard was the odd glint in his eyes, focusing on the hoodie she was wearing—almost pleased, if she was reading him right. Another step into the room and his scent hit her, citrus and the sea, the same soothing fragrance that clung to the sweatshirt she’d thoughtlessly pulled on with the assumption it was one of Mor’s baggier favorites.
Fuck.
Rhys smirked then, every bit the smug alpha she knew he was. She wasn’t ready to analyze the response that inspired in her. The fluttering in her stomach that quickened as he approached, the heat that flushed her check when he stepped into her space, fingering the ratty sleeve that fell well past her fingertips. “I was wondering where that had wandered off to.”
“I—”
“Keep it, darling. It looks better on you anyway.”
She shuffled back a step, uncharacteristically flustered by his proximity. Omega or not, the flirtation of men didn’t usually affect her this way. Even in the early days between her and Tamlin she—She would not be comparing her ex to anyone. She came back to San Francisco to wash her hands of him, after all.
“I—” She sighed. “Thanks.”
Mor cleared her throat, though her shameless grin was a near mirror to her cousin’s. “If that’s all, boys.” She batted her eyes, looping her arm back through Feyre’s. “This was girls’ night, remember?”
Cassian chuckled, ignoring the dismissal and slumping into the couch. “So, how goes the move in?”
Feyre scoffed. “My plane touched down only an hour ago. Can I finish my dinner and wine before tackling my bags?” The other three exchanged a look, Mor seeming suddenly guilty. “What?”
“With how quickly this all came together, I suppose I never got around to mentioning I… I asked Emerie to move in. It doesn’t change the fact the extra room is yours,” she hurried to say. “You have a place here of course.”
“Or you could have one upstairs,” Rhys mumbled.
Feyre blinked. “Excuse me?”
“They get their privacy, you get a good night's sleep every night.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s just a room, Feyre. You know I’m a gentleman.”
“I wouldn’t suggest otherwise.” Eyeing his reaction, she sipped from her wine glass. “Out loud.”
Cassian cackled. “God, I’ve missed you. About time you traded the hills for skyscrapers again, little sister.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
~~~~~
“I told you,” Rhys sang as Feyre stepped out of the elevator and into his apartment. It had only taken two nights to change her mind about his proposal. She adored Mor and Emerie was a delight—a perfect match for her oldest friend. But that didn’t change the fact the walls were paper thin.
“Hush. Emerie is a wonderful woman. I could never begrudge them their happiness, even if it costs me my sleep.”
“Of course not. Anyways, welcome to my humble abode. The first door on the left down the hall is your room for as long as you want it. Just across from mine, if you need anything. I’ll let you get unpacked.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, heading down the short hall and into the room he directed her to, only to stop short in the doorway. “Rhys.”
“Yes?” he called back, presumably from the living space.
“What is all of this?”
He approached slowly, looking almost sheepish. “Too much?” She gaped. “I can return it if you don’t like it. I just happened to overhear you tell Mor you had left behind some of your favorite nesting things and… Here, I’ll just pack it up and—”
“No.” His brows rose as she shifted to block the doorway. “I—” She cleared her throat softly. “It was sweet of you to consider it. I’m not far from my next heat, actually. I really appreciate you letting me crash here and letting me nest.”
He scoffed. “Nesting is natural. It isn’t something I’d try to stop any omega from doing.”
“If only my ex had seen it that way.” She flinched. “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”
He growled softly, eyes dark as he dropped his head to hold her gaze, one hand braced against the doorjamb she already leaned against. His scent washed over her once again and Feyre hoped her full body shutter wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “Your ex was an alpha?” She nodded. “Not one with any honor, it seems. You are what you are, Feyre. If that bastard ever made you take shame in it, I hope you’ll soon change your way of thinking.”
“I’m not ashamed of anything,” she murmured.
The knuckles of his free hand brushed along her cheekbone. “Good. I’ll let you finish up here. As I said, if you need anything for the nest or otherwise, I’m here to help.”
“I’m not a charity case, Rhysand. I always manage to get back on my feet quickly enough.”
“I know that, darling. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy spoiling sweet little things like you rotten.”
A quiet, shocked sound escaped her, but her usually sharp wit had been neutralized, it seemed. And all by a few charming words. Sweet little things like you.
“No,” she muttered to herself, refusing to watch him walk away. Approaching heat or not, she was not getting tangled up with an entitled alpha ever again. And that vow would not be changing
~~~~~
The next few weeks were normal, all things considered. Rhys went to work in the morning and Feyre either arranged calls or set out to reopen contact with previous buyers interested in her art. In the evenings they alternated cooking meals and washing dishes, occasionally enjoying a movie or game together before returning to their separate rooms for the night.
Everything was perfectly platonic if you excused a few mildly flirtatious remarks. The only thing that left her unsteady was the surprise treats and little actions to take care of her, each one either frivolous or thoughtful. It was as frustrating as it was pleasing and she hoped Rhys couldn’t see how she truly felt about each little favor. She didn’t know what she’d do if he came to learn about the pure satisfaction she felt each time she saw that he had snuck into her room to switch out the sweatshirt she’d so carefully placed among the pillows and blankets in her nest the moment his scent faded from the fabric.
She had dared to ask him after the third time he’d replaced the garment why he was so attentive to that specific want.
“You may not be my chosen mate, but you are an omega under my care. Just as you follow your instincts to keep something with an alpha’s scent, I will follow my instinct to provide for you as long as you live with me. A missing sweatshirt is hardly a great sacrifice, Feyre.”
He’d stood from the dinner table with a smile, mumbling something along the lines of, “Such a pretty little blush you have, darling,” before loading his plate in the dishwasher and heading for his room. Any other remarks had been few and far between, but each one stuck with her for days afterwards.
She gave a sharp huff as she stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea, prepared to do nothing more than hole up in her room with a good book and a hot drink as the Saturday storm bathed the city. “Read my book and not think about this a second longer.”
If only she’d realized what a hopeless endeavor that would turn out to be.
She was only two chapters into her newest read when the first hot flash came. Her heat. And damn if she couldn’t already feel this was going to be a rough one without a partner. Jumping from her chair, she started to head for the bathroom, reaching for the tub’s faucet. Then, a cool bath wouldn’t do her any favors. As quickly as she felt her skin burn, she knew she’d be shivering in a matter of minutes, that first cycle of hot and cold lasting for a few hours before the endless heat became constant, especially without an alpha to soften the effects of her episode.
“Fuck.” She needed to get off the floor and back to her room. To her nest, whatever small comfort it could offer her. “Fuck,” she repeated.
“Eloquently put,” a too-familiar voice said. She didn’t bother peeling her eyes open, letting Rhys drop to a knee and slip his arms beneath her knees and behind her back. “Come on. To bed with you.”
“Put me down. I’m fine.” Never mind that her teeth were already chattering and a cramping had started low in her gut.
“I’m sure you are, darling.” Shifting his arm so her back remained supported, he pressed his palm to the back of her head, pressing lightly until she caved, letting him guide her nose to that special spot on his neck where his scent was strongest. The tension that had claimed her body vanished in an instant. “There, little one. Better, hm?”
She mumbled something equally proud and bitter that she could really only half understand herself with this fog stealing over her mind so quickly, then, “Hurts,” she whimpered.
He hummed, laying her down in the very center of the nest of bedding and clothes she’d so meticulously arranged and rearranged over the past few weeks. She should have realized she was days from her next cycle when the impulse to perfect the space became so prominent. Now she would be glued to it for days on end. The problem? “Why are you so far away?”
Rhys chuckled. “You said you wanted to work through your heat alone, little one. That you don’t need an alpha. Have you changed your mind?” Feyre bit her lip, contemplating her options. Endure this alone and maintain her pride, or welcome his help and pray she was only opening a physical connection, rather than an emotional one. “Feyre.” She blinked up at him. “Temper your pride. Invite me into your nest, little one. This doesn’t have to be so painful.” It only took a moment for her to grip his hand, tugging softly. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, settling in carefully, so as to not disturb her arrangement.
“Don’t need a knot,” Feyre told him petulantly. “Just…” Nose buried in his neck, hand tucked under his shirt, Feyre stopped protesting for the moment, the only sound leaving her a soft whimpering.
That’s when he began to purr, summoning a gush of slick, to her humiliation. “Rhys—”
“Hush, sweet girl. Let’s see what we can do about your little problem here.” She couldn’t help but squirm a bit as he peeled her leggings away inch by inch, face flushing hot when her slick clung to the fabric of her panties on their way down. “Settle now, pet. You just lay back and let your alpha take care of you.”
“You’re not my—I didn’t ask you to—” Feyre hadn’t realized her pants had been completely cast aside until his tongue was stroking up her slit. “Oh, god.” Another drag of it and her fingers were threaded in his hair, tugging sharply. He hummed. “Rhys.” She tried to lift her hips, only for Rhys to reach up and lay his arm over her waist, keeping her mostly still. She let out a groan of frustration.
“All in good time, little one. All in good time.” He looked all too pleased by the frustrated growl that passed her lips, her protest cut off the moment two thick fingers pushed inside of her, curling in a way that had her hurtling to the edge of her release. “That’s it, darling, he encouraged her, repeating the motion while twisting his hand enough that he could rub her clit with his thumb. “Come for me.” Considering the state she was already in and how it only seemed to worsen with time, it took nothing more than those few words for her to shatter, clenching around his fingers so tight he cursed—even as he stroked her through it. “Good girl.”
Feyre shuttered beneath him, She didn’t need to peel her heavy eyes open to know she would find him smirking down at her. There wasn’t a chance in hell a man as observant as Rhys would misread what his praise did to her. She felt the tip of his nose skate across her cheek before his soft mouth was pressed to the flesh of her throat, his fingers already beginning to curl inside of her once again. “Rhys, wait.”
“Darling, do you really think that little knotting toy you bought the other day is going to be enough to satisfy you in this? You know what you need and you know who can give it to you.”
That unbearable cramping began anew, and Feyre knew she had no hope of resisting.
~~~~~
Most days, Rhys would consider himself an honorable man. He was capable of detaching emotions from matters of business and handling what needed to be handled without causing a fuss. Taking losses he earned himself with grace. Regarding his personal life, he never stooped to pursue someone who’s capability of consent was so precarious. He’d certainly never attempted to coerce a hesitant partner.
But he’d walked into the house and her heat scent had hit him in full force. Finding her slumped on the bathroom floor and burning up had his protective instincts rearing their head. Now he was in her nest, had his fingers buried inside of her, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, addling his own mind.
He could reconsider the standing of his honor tomorrow.
He’d get rid of that last edge of nerves his little omega was facing, then he’d show her where she belonged. Right here in this apartment, in this nest, for him to come home every day and spoil senseless. He had already come to enjoy their evening bonding immensely, and could only imagine he’d be even more delighted to share those talks when Feyre had her studio up and running, resuming the work she cherished so dearly. And whatever her reservations about alphas may be at the moment, she’d come around to the thought as well, he was certain. Every omega needs an alpha to lean on.
“God,” she hissed, palm pressing low on her stomach. Eyes shut tight once again, Feyre let her nails bite into his wrist, spurring him into action. He stripped the shirt she wore, baring her entirely before bringing that hand back to her center, this time with the intention of preparing her to take his knot. At the rate her heat was progressing, her pride would fall away momentarily and she’d be begging for the relief she knew it would provide her, he was certain.
Her next groan morphed to something softer, her head falling back to the pillows when his mouth closed over her nipple. Once again, her fingers found a home in his hair, tugging just harshly enough he felt justified in nipping her breast. “Be nice, darling.”
Scowling, Feyre surged upwards, gripping his shirt front as her lips finally found his. “You know it’s really, really unfair that I’m the only one undressed here.” She didn’t give him the courtesy of unbuttoning the garment himself, yanking hard enough to send the buttons flying, lost to the fabrics of the nest. Her teeth sank into his bottom lip hard enough he groaned, his free hand sliding up around her throat. “Rhys.”
He couldn’t help but smile as her eyes fluttered shut, her body relaxed enough for him to manipulate, guiding her back down into the pillow and removing his hand from its home between her thighs. “Sweet thing,” he cooed when a little pout began to form. “So needy for your alpha.” Moving his hand from her throat to her waist, he pushed those two slick fingers past her swollen lips, swallowing the growl building in his throat at the stroke of her tongue, letting himself watch as she fell deeper into that haze of lust and need.
“Well done, sweet girl,” he praised, withdrawing his fingers.
“Alpha,” she whispered, one hand sliding down until it rested over the hard line showing through his jeans.
“You need your alpha’s cock, pet?” He began working his thumb over her clit, just letting his fingers graze the rest of her. “You think you’re ready for that? Think you can take my knot, Feyre?”
“Please.” The next down stroke was rougher and he knew she was close to coming again when her body bowed towards him. “Please give it to me. Need your knot.”
There it was. And how sweet it sounded.
Kissing her neck, he let himself enjoy that lilac and pear scent for a moment before peeling out of the last of his clothes. Feyre had a hand around him before he could reach down to stroke himself, painfully hard beneath her touch. The moment she grazed his knot he jolted, one hand closing over hers while the other fisted one of the pillows beneath them. “Fuck, Feyre.”
“I want to taste you.” He clenched his jaw tight. This woman would be the death of him.
“Soon, darling. But first I need to be inside of you.” She lifted her hips, bending them at the knees in invitation. “Soaked for me,” he purred, lining up to claim her. “You’re going to take me so well, Feyre. Every inch.”
She swallowed, but nodded. Pinning her hips to keep her from rushing to take him, he pushed the tip in, grunting softly as she clenched around him. At this rate he wasn’t going to last long. “More,” Feyre begged, heels digging into his back. “Need more.”
“Patience is a virtue, pet.” Still, he fed her another inch, rocking in and out, working into her until only his knot remained. Smirking at the blissed out look covering her face, Rhys leaned down to whisper in her ear. “So fucking beautiful, filled up like this. Open those eyes for me, Feyre.” She trembled, eyes remaining closed. A sharp flick to her clit and she cried out, eyes flying open and snapping to his. “Watch, Feyre. Watch me give you my knot.” Her eyes darted down. Her nails bit into his back the moment he bottomed out. “Hot little cunt, taking me so well.”
Rhys didn’t let her catch her breath before he started rolling his hips again, dragging in and out of her, animalistic pride beginning to build when he felt her thighs trembling around him and the hot little puffs of air against the shell of his ear, when each thrust was made easier by another gush of slick soaking his length. “So close,” she whined, writhing beneath him, his name falling from her lips in a constant chant.
His rhythm faltered, feeling his release within reach as well. “Come for me, Feyre.” She keened, needing that push over the edge. Flicking her clit, he slammed home, spilling into her the moment her teeth latched down on his shoulder, nails cutting into his back. A moment later she shuttered beneath him, her grip going lax. He couldn’t help but push her damp hair back from her sweaty face, kissing her brow. Not wanting to crush her, he turned on his back, repositioning her legs on either side of him.
“That was…” She sighed, eyes drooping. “Thank you.”
“Rest, Feyre. Before the next wave hits. I’ve got you."
~~~~~
Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer
#acotar#feysand#feyre archeron#rhysand#feyre x rhysand#omegaverse#omegaverse!feysand#feysand fic#fanfiction#pure self indulgence#i hope you enjoy it too#omega nesting
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anyone still obsessed w miraculous like i am
#mlb fanart#I am so in love with Luka#it’s not even funny#this isn’t even all the art I’ve made#i also mildly redesigned their hero costumes#digital art#fanart#miraculous ladybug#miraculous fanart#ladybug and chat noir#ladybug fanart#chat noir#chat noir fanart
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love is stored in the comfort character edogawa ranpo you are everything to me
#LOL IDK WHAT OVERTOOK ME BUT I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS#this isn’t actually even close to half of all the ranpo drawings I’ve made over the years I just don’t want to#go digging through my files and usbs#and also several sketchbooks whoops#I do believe the very first one is from sometime early 2019..? which is NOT the first ranpo I ever drew#but the very first one I drew is a little scribble one a scrap piece of paper taped into some sketchbook#HES MY BELOVED!!! FOREVER SND ALWAYS#EDOGAWA RANPO#MY DEARLY DEARLY BELOVED#lol ok goodbye now#my art stuff#kind of???#willows rambling branch#really exposing myself with this one hahah… these range from 2019 to..this month
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I have this tea cup I made in highschool (it’s really cute and was designed more like those Japanese ones without a handle than it was those fancy English style with even more elements to them) but I never actually asked if the glaze we used was food safe (we all used the same glaze on those cups specifically because the teacher glazed those ones in particular and I don’t remember checking. I glazed and painted every other project but only one of them was something you would use for food and that thing broke a few years ago and was honestly more decorative) and this has haunted me ever since. It’s a super cute cup and I adore it, but I have no idea if I can use it for its intended purpose and while I could buy a lead testing kit I’m not sure how I would check for anything else that might have been in that glaze. I know the color used but not the brand, so that’s not really a help either. The teacher I had left the district after that year because our school district paid art teachers a shit wage and we rotated through them like elementary school kids needing new shoes every year. I’m not entirely sure how I would contact her, but even if I did track her down (something not entirely impossible from what I know about her life outside of teaching us for a year, I would feel slightly weird about it though, even though she was my favorite art teacher) but I highly doubt she would remember something like the glaze she used on one project her students made at a school she taught at for one year. I’m not sure what other testing kits I would need besides lead to confidently say it’s safe enough for my personal use, and it’s annoyed me for several years now.
#emma posts#it was peacock. peacock green I believe#and do you have any idea how many brands produce a peacock named glaze?#I could maybe narrow it down by looking for one that tended to be more forest green to dark blue#but that’s not really a great way to get a definitive answer#I also wish i could make more ceramic stuff right now! I’ve been hooked ever since yhat class#polymer clay sculpting isn’t quite the same (though better than nothing) and air dry clay often feels crumbly#neither of those could be used for cups and stuff#but even just making clay sculptures (my favorite) hits different with clay#I miss the smell and the feel and the way it worked#the closest I’ve gotten to the experience was digging up clay near my parents house and trying to fire it in the bonfire#it was only a half success#I tried to learn how ancient people made stone wear with raw clay and other materials added#but i just can’t seem to fire it the same way and it ends up slightly ashy on the surface from the soot#it’s also a bit more prone to cracking and I know I can’t expect the same as what it’s like working with the good stuff#and I know the clay on the farm is at least decent but not modern quality#also it doesn’t get fired all the way so if I get water on it it starts to dissolve a bit again#I should try to study ancient clay methods#it would be really fun to try to recreate some stuff in the area behind the lilacs#but it isn’t as good as modern clay#I’m getting really side tracked though#art problems#I wish I had an actual studio. I don’t see that happening any time soon though#my dream is to live on one of those houses in the woods north of town and have an art studio and room for more pets and gardens#i don’t think that’s ever gonna happen though#right now I’m just trying to figure out the local buses and stay in government housing#I can’t drive. I dropped out of college because of health problems. I’m living on disability and foodstamps. my health inssues make my#schedule and availability unreliable for a regular schedule#keeping up with the dishes is my worst enemy (aside from everything else)#i just don’t see myself doing much outside of my desk in the corner of my small living room any time soon
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I’ve been having a rough few days, but I’ve been feeling a bit better so I decided to make some lil thingies for some spiraling upwards kitties :3
#keese draws#warrior cats oc#spiraling upwards#I’ve posted art of ratstar and pigeonbillow before but the other three I haven’t I think#but yeah these are some more of the minkclan founders#and by that I mean two of them are and one of them was a kitten at the time#lightning is haveniris’ mom but she didn’t trust herself to raise him so her clanmates sort of collectively raised him#and by that I mean mostly pigeon and two other old ppl that aren’t included here#light did end up opening up to him more and acting as more of a mom after he chose to become a medic tho#the two have a complicated relationship for sure but they still care abt each other a lot#oh yeah and literally all of these guys are dead by the time murtle rolls around except for haven#pigeon died about two years before the other two and raincinder has been dead since before minkclan was properly founded#which is unsurprising given she’s such an old withering woman#she mostly made it that long because she was given a guide sponsor life#so long story short not all starclan cats actually get to use the cool starclan powers and those who do are usually ‘sponsored’ with an#extra life and a cool star like marking#this isn’t a well known thing tho and even within starclan only higher ranking cats rly know anything beyond knowing that every now and#then new guides are chosen#now usually what’s supposed to happen is that the sponsored cat has a close eye kept on them and if they are deemed worthy they’re allowed#to keep their mark and become a guide once they die the second time#the main flaw in this system is that the cat who sponsored them has to be the one to revoke it#so if they refuse to revoke it for whatever reason there’s not much that can be done about it#or in raincinder’s case her sponsor ended up fading before they could judge her fully#so even though by all means even the most rebel friendly guides would revoke it easily she managed to keep her mark til death#this was ofc largely helped by her living til 19 fucking years dear god woman#but hey I guess it means minkclan gets a guide even though she’s a rly shitty one#rly that mostly only matters for the sake of nine lives and the sake of travel between starclan and the living territories#which actually does cause a lot of problems when all the guides decide to go haunt a child instead#oh also guides also pass on their mark to leaders who’s life ceremony they hosted#not the guide role tho each guide gets a new mark
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HEY HOMIES !!!
Here’s the big baddie 😮💨 my final for Digital Illustration I ! I was so excited to do this assignment when I first heard about it in Week 1, I had kinda planned from the start for it to be an Aiah and Polor piece since I can’t get their dynamic outta my head. Came back to an old rendering style I haven’t touched in ages and really tried to push the color palette this time around (I learned about gradient maps ! They’re super cool !!) In the end, I think there’s a lot about it I wouldn’t change at all. This is honestly one of my best pieces if I’d have to judge, haha.
I’m super pleased with the finished version even though it drained every ounce of my life force <3 I now vanish to pursue more back-breaking projects
#enthusiasm at its best#original character#aiah#buttoncraft#polor#character design#digital illustration#minecraft oc#ain’t got nothin else to say about this it killed me is all#it’s so so sexy tho i’ll be sweet and loving to my art#everyone in class kept going on and on about how polor’s got the anime villain vibe going on and i went Yeah Where Do U Think I Got It From#tbh i did it without an exact ref but someone else in the class did a tokyo ghoul card and it reminds me a lot of kaneki’s hand thing#i’m rly obsessed with this palette tho it’s so … it’s so hot listen#im so crazy over their hair colors and how well it worked out im gonnaTRHWO UP#but no fr this piece rly made me want to quit school LMAOOO which i guess isn’t good but#i was working on it literally days on end and wasn’t finished even when i had to turn it in like 2 minutes before the deadline#i just refined it a bit on my own time bc i actually love it that much#hehe hoohoo so anyways more hw posts soon but hopefully they’ll be inchresting ! i’ve got my background to post of aiah’s hometown#concept art I is already killing me 👍 but we’re good#we know it’s life drawing IV it can die
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#plagued by thoughts and emotions.#man lmao I’ve bitched out So many times this week from reaching out to people. idk. it’s been so long that I just feel like I’m#not important enough to justify it. & I did manage a bit w one person but also ended up#retreating there too bc I just got the sense I made it awkward somehow#so yknow. really great stuff on my end hdjfk#idk idk I’m starved for meaningful social interaction I’m starved for literally anyone taking interest in me atp#it’s such a roller coaster I hype myself up > doesn’t work out > crash hard & I don’t like it. it’s exhausting! it’s really fucking sad too#I’m so tired of my own company & talking to myself all the time. I’ve heard everything I have to say already there’s only so much I can do#I don’t even know what else to say lmao I feel like I don’t really exist anymore outside of my own head#I feel like I can’t get anyone to just djjfjf care about anything I have to say no matter what?#I’m not enough my art isn’t enough whatever it was a few years ago isn’t there anymore.#and I want it to be genuine I don’t want it to be out of pity bc all that does is honestly get my hopes up a bit but it can’t/wont last#I say that for everyone’s benefit too like djjfjf I don’t want to be annoying any more than other people want to be annoyed#anyway I’m going to try to shake this off a bit bc I can’t do anything right now#and I’m not even sure I’d be in the right headspace to have a conversation without decompressing first
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me, 87, being patiently led to my rocking chair by a grandchild: quinn doesn’t even actually belong to leverage, he’s from ao3 he lives in ao3 i just saw him there yesterday—
#looking @ some still-in-progress quinn art this evening and feeling VERY bittersweet abt it don’t mind me#the thing is is that it would be extremely easy for me to be like ‘actually the niches of fandom can exist apart from the show#and the alleged environment it was made in’#it would be very easy for me to do this. except that i would not actually believe it#and don’t think that would actually make the ability to enjoy leverage click back on in my brain#i’m just bracing myself for the redemption posts to flood my dash and break my heart etc#hhhhhh i was just really excited abt this. makes me sad. also above all WHERE QUINN#messy and complicated and a bummer all around#though i am (normal & hinged) still writing some finchlore stuff bc that’s homemade brain space content#there isn’t a point to this post i’ve just decided to flounder around publicly instead of by myself in my living room etc#endless cyclical floundering#do i finish my video edit wips? do i finish my fics? could i ever? will it drive me insane not to?#many questions no answers drinking a lot of tea#finchtalks
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Redrew a thing from over 2 years ago with some creative spice I’ve gathered since then, (The clean line art was Never to last, old me)
[Woah I reached the tag limit perfectly]
#my art stff#sanders sides#ts virgil#tss art#creative spirit possessed me till 3 am and I had this on my phone#it’s weird. i had realized that some people seem to keep the same style even as their skills grow and they learn more about anatomy. color#etc. and yet it looks practically the same as when they started. the base anyways#I did at one time do the thing where I drew the hair the same always the same two curls there and a sharp corner here. no matter where#they might be looking. but that made no sense and I learned about volume and strayed drawing hair as the actual strands it is#My Style has changed drastically since just 2 years ago. going on 3 with that new year on the horizon#and I even see change from my last year’s art. I’ve improved! of course there are missteps where oofs happen#but overall! new things have entered my art and I think of composition more and looking for inspiration is way more fun than it used to be#but yeah I am being taught art by an art teacher and I have artist classmates who are also super talented and have their own styles#so I guess that must have something to do with the difference#the hobby of art vs. the engine that is schooling and the constant push to become greater and show improvement#everyday we go over things that we kinda already knew. but seeing all the fancy words and figuring out how other people see those#same concepts is so interesting.#hm already quite a long rant in the tags huh#there is some downside to the whole going to an art class and ‘pushing to improve’ some people can’t handle it and get burnt out#I knew a fellow who really was bored of the class last year and isn’t here this year cause they had Nothing to gain from it#they already had friends to inspire them and knew so may cool skills and learned way more as a wee lad compared to us and their art#was awesome even placed in an official contest#so it’s strange to know that there’s so many variants in the artist’s life journey because we all start at different times and places and#with different levels of expectations and well that’s the cool bit isn’t it#I was thinking about some specific artists when I brought up the stuck to one style thing: both seem to be in college and yet they draw#in a certain way that I specifically abandoned#of course I hadn’t grown this much in no time. that flatish anime-eyed style is a remnant of my middle school days#Whoops more rantyness I’m just gonna leave this here#uh thanks for reading this if you did?#my art
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Me, making fnaf charcaters in Gacha Club: if one desing is out of canon I’m blowing up (lie) the presidents bathroom
Also me: who says whatever the square representing Elizabeth’s lower half can’t be pants
#never mind the official art in those logbook things#I live in denial built on pictures of people from the 80s#my lizabeth desing has no right to slap so hard#she isn’t even my favorite charcater#that spot belongs to CC and his crying tears#gacha club#gacha community#gacha character#Mike and CC are the most canon accurate Aftons I have#don’t even ask me what’s going on with the Mrs. Aftons’#yes there’s two and all the kids birthdays are built on jokes#there’s a reason cc was born on milkman day#in the weird AU I’ve made
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I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 11.9k
Series Masterlist
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job.
To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him.
The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss.
“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”
Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”
“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”
Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back.
You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later.
Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it.
“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room.
Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.
“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is.
You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.
He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”
Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.
“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”
“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.
“Why?”
It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence.
“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”
His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”
“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”
“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”
“No, sir.”
He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page.
“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”
Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that.
You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.
“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”
“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you.
He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.”
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”
Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.
“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”
You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly.
You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.
Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate.
You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation.
But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.
He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.
The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it.
There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought.
So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates.
“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word.
You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks.
You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.
“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”
There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.
“Do you at least have a soft copy?”
“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”
You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake.
Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it.
“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”
“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”
“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”
“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.
He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter.
You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying.
His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.
“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”
“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”
“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”
“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.
“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”
“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”
“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”
Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.
“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”
“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”
“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”
“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.
“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”
“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”
“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”
Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.
You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow.
“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain.
You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists.
“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”
“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?”
You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.
“Answer me.”
“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”
“You work hard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In what?”
“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try.
A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction. But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.
“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”
“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”
“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”
There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more.
You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes.
“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”
At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.
“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”
Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.
“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”
“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Understood, Mr. Jeon.”
You bow and head out the door.
Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.
He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret.
He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now.
You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently.
You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.
“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Where’s Ms. Cho?”
“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”
It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.
“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.
“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance.
You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed.
“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”
“I will, sir.”
There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.
You wish he’d offer an apology.
He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.
You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.
He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.
But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door.
He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves.
Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do.
The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home.
He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought.
The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere.
You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you.
You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration.
That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.
But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect.
Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.
You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door.
The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.
Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too.
You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe.
Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor.
[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore!
You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.
“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”
“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”
“I will. What about you?”
“I hope so.”
“Have you had dinner?”
“Hmm, yeah,” you hum.
“And where are you now?”
“Outside the library,” you say.
There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours.
“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”
Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did.
“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”
“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”
“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”
“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”
“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.”
“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”
The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you.
“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”
“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”
“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”
“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out.
“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”
“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”
“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”
Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason.
“Are you feeling better, darling?”
“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”
“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”
“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”
You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before.
Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage.
You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning.
Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.
You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.
That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.
You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt.
From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment.
You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.
“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”
It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over.
You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.
You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him.
He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.
“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”
“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”
He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed.
You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now.
While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him.
It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget.
It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed.
You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him.
CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.
“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”
“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”
“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”
You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern.
“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”
“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”
“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___. But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”
“I will, thank you.”
Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth.
The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline.
You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.
The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well.
You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices.
But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop.
“Hey.”
“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”
“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”
“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”
You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context.
“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”
“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”
You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back.
“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”
Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress.
He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.
Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it.
“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.
Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.
“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at.
But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat.
You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back.
You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.
“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”
You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.
Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence.
“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”
“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”
He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.
“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”
Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs.
“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”
“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger.
“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”
Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore.
“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”
“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”
“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”
“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”
“It’s not what I saw growing up.”
“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”
Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.
“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”
“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”
“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”
“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”
“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”
“Not everyone does that.”
“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”
“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly.
“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”
Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all.
Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about.
“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”
“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”
“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”
“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “
The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you.
“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”
“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”
Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough.
“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”
“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”
“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”
The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”
Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?
Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love.
Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all.
He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units.
You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing.
He picks up the phone and calls you.
“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.
“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”
“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?”
“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.
“You should clock out now, then.”
“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”
“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”
You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.
“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.
“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”
“Yes, that’s what I just said.”
“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight.
You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays.
You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.
Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.
But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway.
He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung.
That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again.
Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep.
Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard.
For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they.
So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking.
“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway.
“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”
Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night.
It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really.
Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name.
There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.
Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else.
And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face.
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#jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook x oc#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook series#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#boss jungkook
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physio alternatives
summary: art gets injured during a game. you provide aid in helping him feel better.
warnings/content: gn! reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, pretty much no plot, just fluff, athletic injury, no use of y/n (it’s too much effort to type lol), inaccurate sports injury (don’t come for me, i was a theatre kid), art is whiny, pet names cause i’m corny, art history mention, food content discussed briefly, lmk if i missed anything
word count: 1.1k
masterlist
you were laying on the couch in the hotel when you heard him come in. even though you were nearly asleep, you immediately sat up when you heard him huff. using the palms of your hands to rub your eyes, you call out, “hey, art. how was practice?”
when you don’t hear a response, you swing your legs over the edge of the couch and walk to the entryway. you see art, his coach, and his physical therapist. seeing as no response was given, you ask another question: “everything alright?”
“no,” he nearly whines out. “we had to end early today.” he’s mumbling, just about whispering. after some semi-awkward silence, his coach speaks.
his physical therapist spoke. “art lightly sprained a muscle in his left leg. he’ll have to tread lightly for about two weeks.” art sighs again. his hands are in fists on his cheeks, pushing them up as his sits on the stool in the entryway. you walk over to him and rub his back.
“are you going to stretch him out at all?” art proceeds to lean against your touch.
“we were just about to-“ his couch says before getting cut off.
“can’t we just do it tomorrow?” art interrupts. his expression is a mix of pleading and petty anger.
you crouch down to meet his gaze. “darling, i’m sorry. but you should really listen to your coach.” he sighs out in disapproval. you hold his hand and trace over the lines on his face with your eyes.
and that’s how you ended up sitting in the background watching art’s physical therapist extend and retract his leg muscles. he followed every command, albeit reluctantly and with an air of annoyance. before leaving, his physical therapist gave art a knee brace. you’re not going to pretend like you had any idea of what was going on.
you walk his coach and physical therapist out. you’re glad that tashi, his assistant coach, didn’t tag along. but you’d never admit that. when you come back, art has made his way to the couch. he looks like a rendering of the death of marat, the way he’s dramatically sprawled about.
“i’m sorry, honey.” he grunts. “can i sit on the couch with you?” upon hearing your request, he sits up long enough for you to sit down. when you sit, he turns onto his side and lays his cheek on your thigh. you bring your hand to his head and trace over his ear and the curls on the side of his face.
his eyes crack open. “i feel like shit.” he looks like shit, just a little. but you’re not going to tell him that. you give him a crooked smile instead.
“any way i can help?”
“just stay here, i think. i’ve enough of people trying to fix me for the evening.” he places his hand that isn’t pinned under his body on your leg and traces his thumb in circles over it. it’s an awkward position, but art just likes being as close to you as possible.
you silently reach for the tv remote, and play some random game show. at first, you don’t notice him falling asleep; but soon you hear very soft snores coming from him. you exhale out of your nose in loving amusement.
you switch between watching him sleep and watching the crappy game show. the hum of the ac provides a cozy ambiance.
art sleeps for about two episodes of the game show. the show is weird, and has some old actor you can’t recall the name of hosting it. you have to use the restroom, but you’re not going to risk waking up art to go pee.
after some time, he stirs and wakes up.
“hey sleeping beauty,” you mumble out. he turns and looks up at you, and smiles. you smile back.
“how long did i sleep for?” he shuts his eyes again for just a moment.
you check the clock, “a little over an hour. you look uncomfortable in that position, though.” he hums. “did you eat after practice, or did you come straight here?” you can see his brain lagging, gummed up from sleep.
after a bit, he replies. “uhm, no i didn’t. do we have anything in the fridge?” you sit in thought for a moment.
“uh, i don’t know. i’ll go check.” you move to get up, but art wraps his one free arm around your thighs to try and keep you in place. “i have to get up to check. why are you being so clingy?” it sounds harsh, but the tone in which you say it is playful and not at all condescending.
“you’re evil,” he toys back.
you stand up and go to the kitchen. while looking into the fridge, you roll your ankles to pop them. the cool air from the fridge is minutely uncomfortable. “there’s ketchup and like two eggs,” you call back over to the couch. he peaks his head over the top of the couch, so that you only see his messy hair and his eyes.
“damn.”
“do you want takeout?” he stops, he’s thinking, you realize. he’s thinking about how this is going to affect his performance in tennis; unhealthy carbs and all that. “you’re supposed to be resting. some chinese food isn’t going to ruin your mad tennis skills.”
he shrugs and lays back down. “only if we can get orange chicken.” you look in the info booklet the hotel gave you when you checked in, and found a nice looking restaurant to order from. after you ordered, you sit back down on the couch. art returns to reclining on top of you.
soon, the smell of chinese takeaway fills the hotel room, and you sit and eat together. it’s a domestic scene, despite being in a hotel room a few states over from where you both live.
after dinner, you help him wash up and get ready for bed. you insist that he at least take a quick shower. going to bed covered in dried sweat is not the most pleasing thing to think of. you sit outside the shower and speak to him while he cleans himself.
he talks about everything and nothing all at once. he talks about practice, his parents, something shitty that he heard another player say while he was at the court earlier. the vibrations of his voice carry throughout the bathroom, and it’s silly, but it makes you feel nice. you’d let him talk about anything, really.
when you get in bed, art holds you tight. he keeps you in his arms, and lies his head upon your chest.
as you’re both nodding off, you feel art mumble something into your neck as you hold each other. “hm?”
“love you,” he recites.
you kiss him on the top of his head. “love you too.”
#the pacing in this is kinda funky but whatever#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#challengers#challengers x reader#fluff#fanfic#x reader
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Hi everyone!
I’d like to start by thanking you all for 2 years together (4 if you count the old blog). You’ve followed me through high school into university, during and after COVID. I’ve looked forward to seeing your reblogs, comments, asks, DMs, etc. every day. I’ve read every note on this blog. Some of you even call me your favourite artist, an honour that is unimaginable to me even now.
This blog started as just a digital storage for me to save and keep my art, so I never expected it to gain the traction and support it did. Recently, we surpassed 10k followers, beyond anything I ever expected when I first started posting my art.
However, I’m sorry to announce that I’ll be retiring this blog. My reasons for doing so vary, and a lot of them are due to extremely personal reasons. I’ve been sitting on the idea for a long time, and I’ve finally made the decision. I’m sorry my explanation isn’t satisfactory and leaves you confused, but I really can’t afford to spill my guts out on the internet (some people can be cruel).
I left so many loose ends, series I never finished, asks I never answered, promised sequels and planned projects that I never got to do. I never wanted to leave you guys hanging like this and I hope you will forgive me.
Maybe in the future when I’m ready I’ll bring this blog out of retirement, or maybe I’ll make a new one for a fresh start. Maybe not. I don’t want to say that this is my last time seeing you, because you’ve made my teenage years so special. But I don’t want to give you false hope in case I really don’t end up coming back. If I do, hopefully you will be greeted with a better and more put together version of me than right now.
Thank you all, I’m so happy to have been a part of your day.
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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here
‘C’mon, you never want to go out.”
You rub your temples, eyes closed in exasperation. “I’m broke, Case.”
“I’ll spot you. Come on, it’s Friday. I’ll get us into The Rook.” She pleads and pushes, tugging away your excuses and defenses until you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Finally, you opt for a different tactic, lamely.
“Doesn’t that place have a waiting list?”
“Oh yeah, miles long. But the owner likes me.” The owner. How does she even know the owner of The Rook?
“I don’t know…” you linger, still bent over your tiny kitchen table, back bowed and tired, “isn’t it like, dangerous?”
“The Rook is neutral ground or something, I don’t know. It’s perfectly fine, I’ve been dozens of times.” A litany of stories exists about the speakeasy, from its origins to the current clientele, each as unbelievable as the next, and you’ve always imagined it to be this dark den of sin and debauchery, filled to brim with hitmen and lawlessness. “You have to do something other than work and sleep; you know. You’re missing out on your whole life.” She chides, attempting to launch into the same speech she repeats over and over every few weeks.
“Alright, alright,” you look down at your torn up cuticles and sigh, “I’ll go.”
You weren’t wrong about The Rook being dark.
It’s hollowed out under a club, nooks and crannies and little hallways splitting off in every direction, dim lamps and flickering candlelight casting shadows to the ceiling, bartenders dressed in all black working behind a massive, burnished wood bar along the back wall. Velvet couches, high top tables, overstuff armchairs flow in the space, and Case tells you there are more rooms if you’re keen to explore, explaining in hushed tones how there’s usually a band in one, a card game of sorts in another, a pool table somewhere, all with various styles of seating, and even another bar. It's elegant, decadent, sinful. Most of the people are startlingly beautiful, high heels and skintight dresses, perfectly made-up faces, polished onyx cuff links gleaming against expensive navy suits.
Even the drinks are licentious.
You decidedly do not belong here. Perched on a stool next to Case, you occasionally rub your wrists, casually wondering if it would have been acceptable to wear your braces, your carpal tunnel flaring into a swell of agony.
Wouldn’t that be a sight.
The bartender slides her two generous neat pours of… something, and you raise an eyebrow.
“On the house, from the boss.” He says with a wink, and she tips her head to ceiling with a bubble of a laughter, before pressing one of the tumblers into your hand.
“What is it?”
“Probably bourbon.”
“Oh, no thanks, I don’t-“
“Just shoot it.” She throws it back with ease, showing her teeth afterwards, a hyena leering in the lamplight.
Fuck it. Maybe it will the throbbing in your wrists will quiet down.
It’s thick, syrupy, hot in your throat. Burns all the way down and settles like lava in your stomach, uncomfortable until the sting ebbs into warmth, moving through your bones.
“Not bad.” You rasp, and she smiles.
There are more free drinks. They stick to your insides like tar, slicking you in a heavy cotton, weighing your limbs down, loosening the tension in your neck and shoulders, peeling away your layers of discomfort one by one.
You’re surprised by how at home Case seems in this place, how comfortable she is, smiling and waving to the occasional person, making small talk here and there. She practically floats in her seat, black dress taut against every dimple and dip on her body, hair artfully twisted into something that could be considered modern art. She’s a gazelle. A heron. Something graceful and gorgeous, fine feathered and fabulous.
And you’re… a tired girl in a tired dress, counting her lucky stars that there seem to be so many generous patrons buying drinks tonight.
“Having fun?” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder.
“How often do you come here?” Her eyes wander, flicking past you and then back, wistful caution etched across her brow.
“Often enough,” She sips her drink and then folds her hands together on the bar top, looking over shoulder, “Most of these people in here… are connected to organized crime somehow.” The information doesn’t surprise you, but hearing it confirmed, knowing it’s not just some story made up, some fairytale about boogeymen, makes you shiver.
“Like, the mafia?”
“The mafia is Italian, but they have a presence in the city.” She shrugs, like it’s all common knowledge. Like you’re out of the loop. “The Rook belongs to Kyle Garrick.” You shake your head, unfamiliar. “Of The 141?” your mouth goes dry.
The 141.
The 141 were a notorious organized crime group who ran half, if not more, of the city. You knew they owned clubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels, but you were never clear on the details of their illegitimate work, and you didn’t want to know.
You knew, for sure: they were men to be feared. Men capable of terrible things. Destruction. Death.
Their ongoing war with The Shadows was the reason the city was soaked in blood.
“Don’t worry,” she rushes out, hand on your arm, “like I said, It’s neutral here. Nothing happens in The Rook.” You nod meekly, head swimming. You’re more than drunk now, stuck in a sloshing ship, floor tilting beneath your feet. The urge to get away, to disappear slams into you like a truck, and you slip off the stool.
“Which way is the bathroom?” She points to one of those dark hallways, and you stumble through the throngs of people like a fresh born fawn, unsteady and teetering on the edge, approaching a hallway that splits into two.
Which way?
You pick one, sure you’ll run into someone who can point you in the right direction, but when it zigs and zags up to a polished wooden door, you stop short, confused. The alcohol has rendered you fuzzy, and your vision spins, trying to look for a recognizable placard.
Is this the bathroom?
It must be.
The first thing you realize when you push the door open, is a chorus of men’s voices, stopping on a dime. You hear them, before you see them, and immediately try to backpedal, tugging the door handle towards you, trying to close it. You’re wayward, with heavy, tired feet, and the movement is slow, slow enough that an opposing force pulls on the other side and then-
rips.
You fly forward into the room, dragged by your grip on the handle, spilling onto your knees with a shocked gasp, and someone curses in the background, another voice barking out a name.
Then, the room goes Sunday church service silent.
You gape at the table of men, transfixed in horror on the two familiar faces staring back at you, the unforgettable Scot and his marble etched partner, who was just in the shop only two days ago. They’re frozen, half risen from their seats, a cigarette burning away in an ash tray filling the air with smoke.
There’s a nickel-plated flash, and your blood curdles.
He has a gun.
“I…” you croak, still on your knees, unable to categorize or rationalize why you’re seeing them here, why one of them has a gun, why any of this is happening. “I’m sorry, I was lo-looking for the bathroom.” There are many men in this room, you realize. More than just the two you’re acquainted with, and your stomach rolls, nausea creeping forward, trying to bring the too many drinks you’ve consumed up through your mouth. “I’m sorry.” You say again, more clearly.
Obviously, you’re interrupting something.
“These aren’t the toilets, little girl.” A Russian voice booms over your head. “Unless you’re going to piss on the floor for us?”
“Nikolai.” The blonde cuts, Manchester accent rougher than sandpaper, and you shake your head frantically.
“N-no, I just got turned around, that’s all.” Your brain screams at you to get up, but your body is immobile, and you look away in fear.
A warm hand takes yours, tanned skin soft and sweet, gentle touch urging your face back up.
“It’s alright, doe. Ye’re alright.” It’s the Scot, crooning in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to your feet. “Let’s get ye to the bathroom then, aye?” You lean against him, breathing in cypress and ocean spray, letting him guide you out of the room, his partner right at your back.
“We’re not finished.” Someone calls out, and the bigger man clips out a response.
“We are now.”
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french tips • sanji x black!fem reader
your new nail tech suddenly becomes your favorite after an appointment you’ll never forget!
nail tech!sanji, modern au, him being a gentleman ofc (he’s not a perv in this, hadn't watched the live action but from clips, taz seems a lot more charming so that’s who i'm going with! 😭) massage, handjob, foot and nipple play, service dom, fingering, squirting, calls reader miss + my dear, praise kink, says good girl a couple times, sanji has a tongue ring
word count: 2.5K
whoever sent this idea, thank you for your contribution. I don’t know if you are being serious or facetious but either way, you have awoken something in me. sanji fuckers, come get y’all’s juice!!
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you were a little hesitant…downright apprehensive even. You’d been coming to this shaking for years and each time, you sat in the same chair, got nearly the same services and entrusted your beauty needs to the same hands. “I’m sorry, (y/n). She’s on vacation right now and won’t be back for at least three weeks.” “I understand but I wish she would’ve told me before I booked the appointment..” you were flustered and rather frustrated to boot..you had an important event coming up and the last thing you needed was your routine disrupted. It was already enough chaos in your hectic life! But nail tech!sanji was willing to swoop in and make things easier.
“Miss, if you don’t mind..I’d be more than happy to help you today. My next appointment isn’t for a few hours so I’ve got plenty of time to get everything taken care of.”
nail tech!sanji, who’d been an esthetician and licensed massage therapist for years, had just begun working there but his work and reputation far preceded longevity at this particular shop. The man was an absolute master at his craft and his catalog spoke for itself. He had won competitions, curated some of the most beautiful designs you’ve ever seen and worked with absolute proficiency. “Is there a specific design you’re looking for?” nail tech!sanji had also mastered the art of de-escalating tense situations. When working around women and people who did not play when it came to their appearances, he knew one wrong move could result in his head or termination so he was flawless in his final product..left with no other choice, you’d accept nail tech!sanji’s generous offer. “Fine. But if you screw up one thing on these nails, I’m done with this shop for good.” but little did you know, you’d be so glad that you did take the services from him! nail tech!sanji, who’s work area was absolutely spotless, smelled of vanilla incense and looked so out together, it shocked you. “I find vanilla helps soothe the senses…makes you feel a lot more relaxed. Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you and if at any time, I do anything wrong, you let me know. Okay, miss?” nail tech!sanji, who looked better suited for a repair shop with his tattoos, blonde wefts and tongue ring, certainly took you by surprise. He was gentle, attentive and made certain that you were comfortable. “Can I offer you some water? Or perhaps something else to drink?” As the nail salon you frequented also doubled as a bar. “No alcohol for me today, please. I drove. I’ll just take the water..” nail tech!sanji, who noticed that you were still nervous, decided to take your hand and redirect that tension.
“So tell me about this event. I’d love to hear about it if you don’t mind.” nail tech!sanji, who was not only kind but handsome and rather charming to boot. He had a great sense of humor and was very quick witted..this man who was all but a stranger thirty minutes ago, had you laughing and fanning yourself as he dabbed balls of acrylic onto your nails and sculpted your tips to perfection. nail tech!sanji, who did thorough work whilst also listening to you attentively as you divulged about your career and how you were going to be attending a gala for the company’s sponsors. “Sounds like it’s a room full of snobs.” “You don’t know the half but hey, they keep my bills paid so I can’t complain too much, I guess.” nail tech!sanji, who was absolutely smitten by you, couldn’t stop staring from across the table as he gently kneaded lotion into your hands. His touch was so soft and inviting, making you wish he’d never pull away. It didn’t help matters that he was so damn attractive! nail tech!sanji, who made your nails look the best they ever had, was pleased to see the smile on your face after he finished!
“..only the best for a valued customer and such a beauty at that. I do aim to please.” “I’d say you exceeded that. Thank you, mr. sanji..they’re gorgeous.” “Thank you for allowing me to take care of you. I’m honored.”
nail tech!sanji, who wasn’t quite ready to part ways with the gorgeous woman he’d come to be acquainted with, decided that he would take on all of your services today. Including your pedicure and massage…nail tech!sanji, who saw that you opted for the deluxe package, whisked you away to the private room with the entire setup. Something you’d always paid for. A massage bed in the corner and the pedicure chair with a tub full of milky liquid and rose petals scattered about…soft, ambient music playing from the speakers and waves displayed on a mounted television screen crashed around. It was so peaceful and just what you needed for the long week ahead and the one you’d just gone through. nail tech!sanji, who rolled up his sleeves as he sat down to work on your feet, made you chew at your bottom lip..weirdly enticed by the sight of his veins protruding from his forearms. But that wasn’t the only reason…he’d soak your heels and work on each one as the other marinated in the softening solution. nail tech!sanji, who delicately massaged up and down those calves, couldn’t help but to chuckle when he felt you slightly tremble yet again when he began to gently knead his fingers into your pressure points, causing you to melt right there! “Looks like someone enjoyed that. You’re really tense for some reason, miss..something on your mind?” Trying to feign the embarrassment of admitting that not only were slightly turned on by how gently this man handled you but the fact that beneath that skin tight sundress, you weren’t wearing any panties, as you had just come from your wax appointment before arriving here and he was seconds from getting an eyeful! “N-no, I’m fine. Just feels really good.” “Well that’s all I want to hear.” nail tech!sanji, who was quick to sense the energy shift, went to retrieve your polish of choice after rubbing your legs down in lotion and wrapping them in warm towels.
“White toes..good choice. And a personal favorite on a lady too.” “You’re a man of good taste then. I like that.” Causing the blonde to blush a bit himself..as he could tell you weren’t exactly some scared little girl. You were a grown woman..who was strong, handled her business and always got her way. Just his type! nail tech!sanji, who set up for your final service as he allowed your toes to cure under the gel lamp, began to dim the lights and lay out all his materials. Knowing that you were watching him carefully…snaking his tongue out intermittently to reveal that steel ball stuck between it. Not to mention the silver bands wrapped around his perfectly manicured fingers.
“..can I have you remove your clothes and wrap yourself in the towel, please? I can step out for a moment and you just let me know when you’re ready..” helping you from your seat as he removed that lamp and grasped your hand..this man was the epitome of a perfect gentleman and you were becoming more and more ecstatic that you had decided to come in today. But unbeknownst, the best was yet to come..nail tech!sanji, who’d stepped back in to find you lying across the table on your stomach, a single towel covering your frame and ready for him to work his magic. nail tech!sanji, who had to all but bite his fist to restrain himself as he inched closer and prepared to make you feel the best you had in ages…warming a palmful of oil as he rubbed them together. Waiting in anticipation, you’d glance back and be greeted with a smirk. When he began to knead your muscles with those strong hands, your body would immediately melt within his grasp. So carefully working out all the sores and kinks that had mounted throughout the stressful work week. Meetings, business negotiations, dinners with your bosses…it was all taking its toll. But if anyone could put you at ease, it was nail tech!sanji..
“How are we feeling, my dear?..”
“Amazing..you’re really good at this..”
and luckily for you, this wasn’t even the beginning. Because as he kept going, (y/n) began to release soft whimpers in response to those subtle touches. Chewing at your lower lip, you’d allow your mind to escape to a place that it should not have been. Abashedly, you didn’t want to admit it but it’d been quite some time since a man had touched you, less known, made you feel this damn good! It was apparent that he was no amateur..in many ways than once. “Mmmm…like that.” The words slipped out subconsciously but it didn’t even phase nail tech!sanji, he just chuckled and kept going. Everytime he moved, he questioned and asked for your permission to place his hands lower. By the time he reached your lower back, you’d let him know it was quite alright to do as he pleased. “Please…keep going. You know what to do..” you were never a promiscuous woman by any means but you were the kind to have your way..when you wanted it. And what you wanted right now…was for him to give in to his desires and take you right there!
“In that case…flip over f’r me and I’ll give you exactly what you need.” The sexual tension that had accrued between you two was undeniable and neither of you were interested in playing coy. So with the command being whispered into your ear, causing a shudder to run down your spine, you’d follow his command and turn over to lie on your back, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help but to subtly grunt at the sheer sight of those erect, dark hues nipples and toned tummy. The only thing making it better was the glass colored liquid pooling across it and spreading as he rubbed it in. Your brown skin glistening underneath the hue of auburn lighting.. “..there we are..much better.” nail tech!sanji took his sweet time in caressing your body. Honing in on your stiff little buds and watching you squirm. Your dark eyes glaring through him with unadulterated lust. Especially when he’d wash his hands off and proceed to go lower beneath that cloth covering your upper thighs. “You sure know how to work your hands..” “I’m only getting started, my love. Just keep your eyes on me and don’t move…” his dominance was not only attractive but captivating. You needed him more than he could imagine! So much so, you’d reach over to grasp for his clothed erection that was growing from the confines of his pants. But nail tech!sanji was quick to halt you, gently clutching your wrist.
“Aht..not yet, gorgeous. It’s my turn.” Chuckling as he commanded you to lean up so you could watch his every movement. He’d part your legs as he kept an arm cradled behind your shoulders and the other between your thighs, working those nimble fingers on your sensitive spot. “Oh my gosh..” “…mmph, you’re soaking, pretty girl.” watching you writhe and whimper as those digits circulated your clit. nail tech!sanji, who latched his lips around your nipples and suckled as he moved about, working them inside of you..whispering into your ear, marking your throat with kisses and filling your head with sweet nothings as he clutched his hand around it. “Ooh..you needed this, didn’t you?…yeah, I know. Just need someone to take care of you every once in a while.” Pegging you to a tee..so independent and headstrong that sometimes, you forgot what it felt like to be spoiled. Clutching around his knuckles, you’d grasp for his arm and hold onto it as your lips met in passionate pecks. Exchanging saliva and whimpers in the process. Tasting one another as the kisses deepened. Sensing that mounting ball of pleasure forming in your core, he’d curl his index and middle digits to work that orgasm out of you. “Good girl..there you go. Keep fucking my fingers. Just like that..get yourself off..” nail tech!sanji, who was practically yearning to bury himself inside of your pussy, could no longer fight his own urges and gave you permission to stroke his cock, shuffling his waistband around to remove it. “Mmph, damn…” “..like what you see, miss?” Knowing that you were taken aback by his size and length. A glowing red tip with precum seeping out..you’d carefully take into your grasp as you stroked that shaft. You’d pleasure each other through lilted moans and stifled cries. Practically shoving your tongue down the other’s throats as you brought each other to ecstasy. “Should I speed up? I can if you need me to..” but you’d quickly decline, finding that the pace was perfect. He was equally as needy but his resolve outweighed his pleasure at the moment and he was determined to let you get yours before his own. Which wasn’t too far away..
“You wanna come, beautiful? It’s okay, you can tell me.” “Y-yes! Please, Sanji..” and with that, he commanded your release with a sharp tug upward and a quickened flick of his wrist..you’d finally cave and release. Letting out loud whimpers, along with a stream of juices, that soaked the table and your quivering thighs. nail tech!sanji, who enjoyed the sight of watching you writhe from his volition, was quick to get a sample of the mess he contributed to. Moving down your torso with the swipe of his tongue piercing, grazing your skin; lapping up those sweet juices from your center down to your thighs..leaving a trail of kisses in his wake until he reached your calves and feet. nail tech!sanji, who’d place those freshly done toes into his mouth, sucking them momentarily as he concluded your massage.
“So..did I do a good job, my love? Satisfied with your service today?” Receiving by far the best compliment he’s ever gotten when you snatched him down and made out with him once more. Showing your gratitude. “I’ll take that as a yes..” giggling with him as the two of you came down from your climatic bliss.
y/n, who was apprehensive before coming in here, was now leaving happier than ever. And nail tech!sanji, who had never picked favorites among his clients, was now looking forward to your next appointment!
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tagging: @lotus-flower-writes @spaceforher @highpri3stess @themagnificentgoat @ichigosluvrr @ladymomo
#cherry’s works ✦⭒#one piece#one piece headcanons#black leg sanji#vinsmoke sanji#one piece sanji#sanji x black reader#sanji x reader#one piece x black!reader#one piece x reader#black fem reader#black reader#black reader smut#one piece au#one piece modern au#op x reader#op modern au#op headcanons#sanji drabble#sanji headcanons#sanji vinsmoke#op sanji#sanji fanfic#sanji#one piece fanfiction#one piece smut#one piece live action#one piece fic#one piece hcs#one piece drabble
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I’ve had this au in my brain for months now and only recently drew for it so I’m here to add to the pile of rise aus haha
It’s the standard separated au but my version B) - Donnie grew up with Splinter, Leo stayed with Draxum, Raph ended up at the battle nexus and Mikey was left to roam the streets of the Hidden City.
More info under the cut-
Donnie: The most mentally stable of the brothers somehow. He was raised in the sewers with splinter, and even though he did receive care, splinter still couldn’t really provide much in terms of affection. Despite that they still love each other, even if distantly. He’s chronically online. He knows every vine ever and plays fps games a lot yes I made him a gamer. He and April are extremely close in this au, having met at a young age and April being the closest thing Donnie has to a sibling until finding his brothers. Splinter also refuses to tell Donnie anything to do with mutants/yokai, or even where they came from, much to Donnie’s dismay. Without his brothers and their antics, he doesn’t get out much, and hasn’t made a battle/protective shell for himself yet.
April: She and Donnie met in early childhood and were practically inseparable, them both being only children, and they basically became each other’s annoying sibling. She’s the only reason Donnie came out of his shell (heh) and she likes to take him onto the surface streets for shenanigans.
Leo: Huguinn pulled Leo from the wreckage of Draxum’s lab and was raised in the rebuilt lab. Draxum genuinely didn’t expect the turtles to come out as literal infants after mutation so it’s a miracle Leo even survived this long lol. (Huguinn and Muninn did most of the work tbh) Draxum considers Leo to be a biproduct/fragment of a failed experiment and uses Leo more as an errand boy than anything else. Because of that Leo’s and Draxum’s relationship is also distant. Leo acts nonchalant and sarcastic for the most part, but he can’t help but want to please Draxum. Leo knows about his brothers and even tried looking for them early on, but eventually gave up. He and Donnie meet first. Also he sneaks out to get pizza at Hueso’s when he’s bored.
Raph: His and Mikey’s stories start out intertwined. They both ended up in the hidden city and lived out the early years of their lives there. When he was around 7 years old, Mikey being 5, Raph was taken as a contestant for a battle royale at the nexus, composed entirely of young yokai. (The battle nexus is quite literally a gladiator ring where contestants kill one another) Raph was taken due to his large size, and after managing to survive the battle royale, Big Mama allowed him to stay and become a fully fledged fighter at the nexus. He moved his way up in rank and became one of the top Nexus champions under the stage name, The Beast. He’s soft spoken and quick to anger at first, having received so little friendly interactions.
Mikey: He and Raph lived in the hidden city together until Raph was taken when he was around 5 years old. After that he was basically left to fend for himself. He survived via stealing and living on rooftops and alleys Aladdin style. He’s incredibly agile and a master pickpocket. He even made a name for himself in the district where he lives as the local thief. This, however, hasn’t dampened his spirits at all and he’s just as bright and bubbly as ever. He loves anything and everything to do with art and often does graffiti wherever he can. He’s an avid battle nexus fan and watches the battles whenever he can ( Leo is also a huge fan).
I’ve legitimately had this au in my head for months and this isn’t even close to everything I’ve conjured up but I had to make something for it or else I’d explode. Despite there being a lot of room for angst in this au, I imagine it as more lighthearted and similar to the show in terms of comedy. If you read this far congrats and give me your strength please
#rottmnt#my art#rottmnt au#rottmnt separated au#possibly: rottmnt but I make Donnie the stable one#spoiler alert he’s really not#broken hearts au
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