#HR Marble

[fluxydrawings]

Finally finished the marble hornets podfic ive been chippin away at for the past while!! written by the lovely @soupallergy ! hope yall like it :D

[star-spangled-man]

come to the realisation that many of my problems would *poof* into thin air if I simply did not have SKIN!!

[dnahelix]

i REFUSE to believe jay was a rich kid. you cannot convince me otherwise.

[skullzy20]

I had the sudden urge to draw him after 2 years

redraw of this

[raileurta]

I got a question for my nerodivergent folks.

[faaun]

i am presented with two ppl + one option. one appears to like me very much and we have great chemistry and they're witty and ambitious and studious and have similar goals in life and they write beautiful poetry about politics and people and they seem very kind and want to make a difference in the world. they text me to make sure i've had a good day. the other one is none of those things but they are so hot and evil and also they don't like me even a little bit and i've told them that i genuinely wanted to kill them, a lot. i'd give everything and anything for one of them and not the other

[beebeesiims]

so are people going to be like “how dare ts4 not add things to other packs instead of creating something culturally relevant to someone besides white suburbia” every expansion or…?

[lesbienneanarchiste]

We tried so hard and got so far but in the end it doesn't even matter

[baarishgf]

head hurts

[mysfated]

@astremourante said: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕

oh, she was never one to mind the staring ────── in fact, arianne relishes in it. she smiles, reaching behind to comb bronzed fingers through long luscious waves of ebon silk, brushing hair from off her shoulder to rain down her back in a glorious cascade of glittering waves. " i know. " she agrees, her smile widening into a grin, " it is a wonderful thing to be admired. i do cherish it so. "

[fereldenshero]

new mobile theme YAYY

[parkitrighthere]

The Black Orchid Project

Pairing: billionaire CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Secretory!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Mystery, Thriller

Word count: 8.3k

Trigger warning: This chapter contains morally grey characters, dark romance, trauma, violence, mentions of murder, conspiracy. Reader discretion is advised.

Summary:Jungkook is the enigmatic CEO of a major conglomerate with a haunting secret—he can hear everyone’s thoughts. But when Y/N becomes his new personal secretary, she’s the only person whose thoughts remain silent to him. Intrigued and unsettled, Jungkook is drawn to the mystery she presents, not realizing that their connection will unravel secrets neither of them are prepared to face.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @parkitrighthere. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

MASTERLIST 01

CHAPTER TITLE: The Thoughtless Encounter

As you approached the entrance of the building, the bold letters of "Jeon Enterprise" loomed above you like an imposing gatekeeper. The guard stationed at the door gave you a sceptical once-over. You held out your ID with a steady hand, your fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” you said, your voice smooth yet quivering with a hint of anxiety. The guard barely met your eyes, his nod curt and indifferent.

You had just aced an interview with one of the biggest companies in Asia. Today marked your first step into the role of personal secretary to Jeon Jungkook, the most sought-after bachelor in the region. Your heart raced with a cocktail of nerves and excitement. You had meticulously chosen a sleek black pencil skirt that showcased your curves and a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into your waistband. Your black blazer was tailored to perfection, adding a layer of confidence, and your pencil heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step echoing your resolve.

Inside, you approached the receptionist's desk, your voice soft but steady. “Excuse me,” you said. The receptionist, with her eyes fixed on her computer screen, barely glanced up. When she did, her eyes flicked over you with a scornful sweep. “So, you’re the new secretary for the CEO?” she asked, her voice laced with derision. “Yeah, won’t be for long,” she added, a sneer twisting her lips as she scrutinized you from head to toe.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. It wasn't the kind of behaviour you expected on your first day, you clenched her jaw, trying to dismiss the receptionist’s attitude. The receptionist finally emerged from her cubicle, her heels clacking authoritatively as she motioned you to follow. As you walked behind her, the elevator ride to the 10th floor was a tense silence, the confined space amplifying your anxious thoughts.

When the doors opened, the receptionist led you to the HR office where Jimin, the director of Jeon Enterprises, awaited. Jimin stood with a warm, welcoming demeanour. His eyes sparkled with genuine friendliness, and his smile was like a beacon of reassurance. You felt a flutter in your chest, a welcome contrast to the coldness you had faced earlier.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Jimin’s hand waving in front of your face. “Y/N?” he called gently, his voice a soothing melody that pulled you from your reverie. You blinked up at him, feeling a rush of relief at the softness of his tone.

“Please follow me,” Jimin said, his voice calm and encouraging. He began walking, and you followed closely, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. As they moved through the office, you glanced back and caught the receptionist’s glare. The receptionist’s lips curled into a venomous sneer, her eyes cutting through you with unmistakable disdain. The insult, “Slut,” was unspoken but clearly written on her lips.

Your face flushed with a deep red, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. Anger and embarrassment surged within you, but you forced yourself to maintain composure. You were not able to understand her behaviour towards you; the dread was already pilling in your stomach. Saying you were nervous would be an underwater, and you didn't wish to think about her. She wasn't worth it. You refocused on the welcoming figure of Jimin and the new chapter ahead, pushing aside the sting of the receptionist’s malice.

Jimin led you to the elevator, his hand hovering over the buttons before pressing for the 26th floor. The ride was smooth and silent, filled only with the faint hum of the elevator. When the doors slid open, your eyes widened, your breath catching in her throat. The entire floor was a masterpiece of modern elegance—every surface was a sleek, polished black that gleamed like obsidian. The sharp, clean lines of the architecture screamed sophistication, while the soft, warm glow of hidden lighting softened the atmosphere, making it both imposing and oddly welcoming.

“This is where you’ll be working,” Jimin said, his voice carrying a hint of pride as he stepped out, motioning for you to follow.

You hesitated for a moment, taking in your surroundings, then followed him down the corridor. Each step echoed lightly against the smooth marble floor. You both stopped in front of a large glass door, and your eyes immediately fell on the silver plaque beside it. Your name was already etched there, shimmering under the lights. A mixture of excitement and nerves bubbled in your chest as you pushed the door open.

The office inside was pristine and perfectly arranged. At the centre of the room was a large black desk, its surface almost empty except for a sleek computer and a few files aligned with almost obsessive precision. Behind the desk, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the cityscape, the sunlight flooding in and casting a gentle glow over the minimalist black-and-white décor. To one side was a small seating area—plush leather chairs arranged around a low, glossy table, inviting yet formal, perfect for quick meetings or a quiet moment alone.

“This is… incredible,” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe as your fingers lightly traced the edge of the desk, still absorbing the room's atmosphere.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as he watched your reaction, a small smile playing on his lips. “Glad you like it,” he said warmly, before gesturing for you to follow him again.

He continued down another hallway, and you followed along, each step bringing a subtle shift in Jimin's demeanour. His posture straightened, and the usual lightness in his expression grew more serious as you both approached a set of imposing double doors. “And this,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “is Jungkook’s office.”

He pushed open the doors, revealing an expansive room that radiated power and meticulous organization. The design echoed the sleek black aesthetic of the rest of the floor but felt more intense here. A massive desk dominated the centre, with a high-backed leather chair stationed behind it. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, filled with neatly arranged files, hardbound books, and glittering awards. On one wall, a large screen displayed a detailed, colour-coded schedule—everything was planned down to the minute.

Jimin’s gaze shifted to you, noticing the way your brows furrowed slightly as you absorbed the details. “Today’s schedule is pretty packed,” he said, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s got seven meetings lined up, back to back.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your lips parted slightly. “Seven meetings?” you echoed, your voice almost breathless. The very idea of keeping up with that kind of pace sent a shiver down your spine.

Jimin chuckled softly, catching the hint of concern in your expression. “Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly, his voice taking on a lighter tone again. “You won’t need to run around too much. Just call the office attendant if you need anything delivered or handled. They’ll take care of the legwork.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding as you mentally prepared yourself for what lay ahead. The day was going to be intense, but as you took one last look around Jungkook’s imposing office, you couldn’t help but feel the challenge stir something within you—a mix of nerves and determination.

Jimin began listing the seven companies Jungkook would be meeting with today, each name more daunting than the last. His tone was smooth but carried a subtle edge, as if he was testing your resolve. “And remember,” he added, his lips quirking into a teasing smile, “don’t mess this up. Jungkook isn’t exactly known for his patience, especially when things go wrong.” The lightness in his laugh barely masked the weight behind his words. Your heart thudded faster, your mind racing as you tried to absorb everything being thrown at you.

Jimin’s expression softened as he reached into his bag and handed you a sleek iPad. “Here, I’ve set up a detailed schedule for you,” he said, tapping the screen to show you the neatly organized agenda. “This should help you get through the day without losing your mind. You can access it from your computer too. Unfortunately, I can’t stick around more than this.”

Your fingers gripped the device a little tighter, your eyes scanning the clear, step-by-step instructions. The knots in her chest loosened just a bit. “Thanks,” she murmured, though her voice trembled slightly with nerves.

Jimin’s gaze sharpened, his playful demeanour shifting to something more serious. “One more thing,” he said, leaning in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Among all the companies, Kim Enterprises is the one you absolutely cannot afford to mess up. Make sure every document is ready and double-check everything. If anything goes wrong in that meeting… let’s just say you won’t like the outcome.” His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, your stomach twisting with unease. You nodded firmly, determination hardening your features. You weren’t about to let one mistake ruin the opportunity you had fought so hard for.

Jimin studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, before a faded smile tugged at his lips. There was something about the quiet determination in your expression that made him believe you could be different. It was why he had picked you. You weren’t just another candidate with a polished resume—you were someone who needed this job as much as you needed to breathe. He was tired of watching secretaries leave after a few days, scared off by Jungkook’s impossible standards and cold demeanour.

Jimin hesitated at the door, one hand resting on the handle as he turned back to you with a look of quiet urgency. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, his voice dropping slightly. “Jungkook likes his coffee black, no sugar. It’s 6:55 now, and he’ll be here in exactly five minutes. He’s never late, and he despises laziness. It’s going to be tough, but if you put in the effort, you might just be the one to stick around longer than a week. Please, just don’t quit on me—I’m tired of interviewing new secretaries every other day,” he said, a trace of exhaustion seeping into his voice.

His almost pleading tone caught you off guard, your eyes widening as you registered the sincerity in his words. You managed a small, determined smile, masking the anxiety swirling inside you. “I won’t,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Jimin. Your resolve tightened, and you straightened your back, readying yourself for whatever awaited you in the next five minutes.

With that, he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click. You stood there, your thoughts scrambling to catch up with everything he’d just said. Every other day? The chill that ran down your spine was sharp and unsettling, but you pushed it aside—there was no time to dwell on it. First impressions mattered, and you needed to nail this one.

Coffee. You clutched onto that thought like a lifeline. Jungkook needed coffee. But the moment you stepped out of his office, your stomach twisted with a sinking realization. Where was the coffee machine? Your eyes darted around the floor, scanning the sleek black surfaces and cold glass walls. The space was immaculate—too perfect—devoid of anything useful like a kitchen or even a break area.

A knot of panic coiled in your chest as you paced back and forth, your heels clicking sharply against the polished marble. The sound echoed in the empty hallway, a constant reminder of how out of place you felt. Your breaths grew shallow, your mind racing in circles. Think, think! But there was nothing—no vending machine, no kitchen, not even a discarded coffee cup to hint at where you should go.

Just when you were on the verge of rushing back to Jimin for help, the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open smoothly. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. A man stepped out, his presence instantly shifting the air in the room. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, the fit tailored to perfection. But it wasn’t just his clothes—it was the way he carried himself, a quiet authority that radiated from him like a dark cloud.

His eyes found yours instantly, locking onto you like a predator locking onto prey. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. The tension in the room was almost tangible, thickening the air between you. Your heart skipped, your breath coming out shaky as you fought the urge to look away. But those eyes—dark and intense—kept you pinned in place, searching you, dissecting you as if he could see every anxious thought swirling in your head.

He moved toward you with purpose, each step slow and deliberate. Your pulse quickened, your mouth going dry as he closed the distance. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if that would somehow steady your racing heart. His gaze never wavered, slicing through your composure with a razor’s edge.

Just as he was about to pass you, he halted, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was subtle, but the way he tilted his head, how his gaze raked over you, made your skin prickle with a mix of fear and something else—something you weren’t ready to admit to.

He leaned in just the slightest, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. The way he looked at you was like a challenge, a silent test you didn’t even know you were taking. Your breath hitched, the space between you crackling with tension, thick and electric. You couldn’t tell if it was his piercing gaze, the way his jaw tightened with restrained power, or the way his lips barely twitched into something close to a smirk.

His eyes flicked down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze. The way he did it wasn’t casual—it was deliberate, like he wanted you to know he noticed your nerves, that he enjoyed watching you squirm.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, caught in the pull of his magnetic presence. He stared at you a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Who the hell is he? And why did you feel like you were already in way over your head?

Your stomach plummeted as realization struck like a cold slap to the face. Jeon Jungkook. The CEO. The man you were now working for. It felt like the floor had been yanked out from under you. Your eyes widened, pupils blown as panic clawed at your chest, heartbeat thudding in your ears. Why is he staring at you like that?

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his eyes widening in a flash of surprise before narrowing, a mix of curiosity and something darker flickering across his features. His jaw tightened, and his gaze roved over you as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Your throat went dry, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth as you stood frozen, every nerve screaming at you to do something—anything—but you couldn’t move. You were caught under his intense scrutiny like prey trapped in a hunter’s sight.

What did you I wrong? Your mind spiralled, grasping for answers. I didn’t greet him properly—I didn’t bring his coffee— The panic welled up inside you, pushing you to bow hastily, words spilling out in a rush. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon! I didn’t mean to be rude. I was trying to get your coffee, but I couldn’t find the machine…”

But your apology seemed to bounce right off him, completely ignored. His eyes remained locked on you, unreadable, probing deeper as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Your pulse raced, breath catching in your throat as he took a deliberate step closer. The air between you thickened with tension, electric and suffocating. Instinctively, you took a step back, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall, cool and unyielding against your skin. Jungkook was now mere inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unrelenting, pulling you under a spell you couldn’t break free from. You tried to speak, to regain some control, but your voice stuttered weakly. “W-What are you doing?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he demanded, voice rough and edged with impatience, “Who the hell are you?”

Your mind went blank, every coherent thought wiped out by the shock of his question. You gaped at him, lips parted but no words coming out. Your confusion only seemed to frustrate him further. His brows furrowed, tension rippling through his features as he raised his hand in front of your face, his tone sharp and urgent. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You blinked, struggling to focus through the whirlwind of emotions tangling inside you. “F-Four?” you stammered, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Damn it, think!” he growled, eyes flashing with irritation.

“I am thinking!” you snapped back, your own frustration flaring in response. What the hell does he take me for? The thought only fueled your rising anger. Just as you were about to bite out a retort, the elevator chimed, and the tension between you shattered.

Jimin burst onto the scene, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the sight of Jungkook practically looming over you, his expression dark and intimidating. In an instant, Jimin rushed over, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and pulling him back, breaking the magnetic pull that had kept you glued in place. “Jungkook, what the hell are you doing?” Jimin hissed, shooting you a quick, apologetic glance.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jimin said hurriedly, his voice tight with concern. “Please, just get ready for the meeting. We’ll handle everything here.”

Still reeling, you nodded stiffly, your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury. You turned on your heel, grateful for the excuse to leave, but rage simmered beneath your skin, heating your blood as you marched away. No longer scared—just pissed. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to focus on your task. You weren’t going to let this shake you. You had work to do, and nothing—not even him—was going to distract you.

Meanwhile, Jimin dragged Jungkook into his office, shoving him toward the desk. “What the hell were you thinking, cornering her like that?” Jimin’s voice was low and furious, eyes narrowed as he glared at Jungkook, who quietly sank into his chair, still distracted.

Jungkook barely registered the scolding, his mind replaying the encounter on a loop. Why couldn’t I hear her thoughts? Why is she different? What is wrong with her? The confusion gnawed at him, blending with an inexplicable pull toward you that he couldn’t shake. Jimin’s words faded into the background as Jungkook’s thoughts remained fixated—on you, on that moment, on the way you looked at him with those wide, defiant eyes.

Jungkook flinched at Jimin’s sharp tone, his jaw tightening. His gaze drifted, staring blankly at the wall as if searching for answers. “I couldn’t hear her thoughts,” he finally murmured, almost like he was confessing a crime, disbelief heavy in his voice.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “What? That can’t be right. Are you sure? Maybe she just wasn’t thinking anything important.”

Jungkook snapped his eyes to Jimin, his stare cutting. “Do you hear yourself? I can hear your thoughts before you even say them. But with her… it’s like she’s a ghost. A complete void.” His voice was laced with frustration, every word feeling heavy, like they were something he couldn’t quite swallow down.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension and disbelief. Jimin’s mouth parted slightly, searching for a response, but he was just as lost for words. The air crackled with something unspoken, both of them grappling with the strange reality Jungkook had just revealed.

Before they could delve deeper into the unsettling truth, a soft knock shattered the charged quiet.

“Come in!” Jungkook barked, his voice a rough command. He leaned back in his chair, fists clenched on the armrests, fighting the urge to pace.

The door creaked open, and you stepped in, your expression composed but your eyes sparking with quiet defiance. In your hands, you held a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the room. Your movements were deliberate as you approached his desk, every step measured like you were consciously holding yourself together.

“Here’s your coffee, Mr. Jeon,” you said, your voice level, but the slight edge in your tone didn’t go unnoticed. You didn’t bow this time. You simply placed the cup down with a subtle firmness that spoke volumes. “Sorry for the delay. It won’t happen again.”

Jungkook didn’t move a muscle. His gaze zeroed in on you, dark and probing, as if he could pull the answers he wanted from you without needing words. You felt the heat of that stare crawling over your skin like a touch, but instead of shrinking away, you stood taller, meeting his eyes with a quiet fire. Your heartbeat drummed in your ears, but you refused to let it show.

The silence between you and Jungkook was suffocating. Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your face, searching, assessing, his expression unreadable. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but still, he said nothing. There was something about you that gnawed at him—a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and it infuriated him.

Sensing the escalating tension, Jimin quickly stepped in, his tone light but carrying a subtle urgency. “Thank you, Y/N. The meeting with Kim Enterprises is about to start. Could you arrange everything?”

Your eyes flicked briefly to Jimin before locking back onto Jungkook’s, daring him to say something. But when nothing came, you gave a curt nod, turned on your heel, and walked out with a sharp, assertive grace. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze followed your every move, almost like he was trying to burn the image of your retreating figure into his mind. Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you left, your determination steeling. If he thought he could rattle you, he was dead wrong.

The door clicked shut, and Jimin exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as he turned to Jungkook, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. “You were—” he started, but Jungkook cut him off, sarcasm dripping from his voice like venom.

“Oh, was I staring?” Jungkook sneered, leaning forward with a mocking smirk. “My bad. I meant to be glaring.” His eyes gleamed with something wild, as if he was teetering between fascination and fury. He leaned back again, fingers drumming restlessly on the desk. “You don’t get it, Jimin. It’s not just curiosity. For the first time, there’s someone in front of me, and I can’t read a damn thing she’s thinking. It’s like standing in front of a locked door with no key. And it’s driving me insane.”

Jimin shook his head, clearly exasperated, but he softened his tone, trying to get through to him. “You need to let it go for now. We’ve got bigger things to handle—like the meeting. Taehyung’s probably waiting.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his smirk fading as he mulled over Jimin’s words. But he couldn’t shake the gnawing curiosity, the pull of that mysterious void you seemed to embody. He was drawn to you in a way that unsettled him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Jungkook had never been comfortable around people, preferring solitude above all—except for Jimin. Jimin was the one constant in his life, the only person whose presence Jungkook truly cherished. Losing his parents at a young age had left a void in his life that Jimin had filled. Jimin’s father had taken Jungkook in, raising him alongside his own son, providing a semblance of stability amid the chaos.

The memory of the car crash that killed his parents was a blur—just a shattered image of their last moments. Jungkook had been in the car, too, but somehow, he had survived, pulled from the wreckage by Mr. Park. The trauma was too much for his young mind, and he had lost all memory of the accident. The details were locked away, buried deep where he had no desire to unearth them. Jimin had been his refuge, his silent comfort in a world that had turned upside down.

Jungkook vividly remembered the terror-stricken night at the hospital. He had huddled in a corner, clutching a pair of scissors he had picked up from a nurse's cart, not really knowing how dangerous it was. His small body shook with sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks as he screamed for his parents. The doctors hovered around him, their faces grim with worry. The panic in their thoughts—He’ll hurt himself, His father died saving him—only intensified his fear. He was too young to grasp the finality of death but was forced to confront it.

The doctors, overwhelmed and frustrated, began to discuss their options. Jungkook could hear their unspoken worries and anxieties. They thought he might hurt himself with the scissors, and their growing desperation led them to consider sending him to a mental health facility. The idea of being sent away intensified Jungkook’s fear, and his sobs grew more frantic. He felt as though he might vomit from the panic swirling inside him.

Mr. Park, standing by the door, was visibly shaken and began to cry, his face a portrait of helplessness. The doctors, seeing that Jungkook was not calming down and fearing for his safety, began to back off. They whispered about the possibility of a mental health facility, and their thoughts made Jungkook’s cries even more desperate. The overwhelming fear and the impending idea of separation drove him to clutch the scissors tighter, his small frame trembling uncontrollably.

Jimin, observing his father’s emotional breakdown, felt a pang of empathy for Jungkook. Despite his own recent loss, he couldn’t bear to see Jungkook suffering alone. As his father prepared to leave with him, Jimin’s heart ached with a sense of duty and compassion. He sprinted toward Jungkook, his small feet making soft, hurried thuds against the floor. His face was a mixture of determination and worry, driven by a need to offer comfort.

When Jimin reached Jungkook, they both stared at each other, fear and confusion written across their faces. Jimin’s hands were trembling as he cautiously crouched in front of Jungkook. His eyes darted nervously between Jungkook’s terrified face and the dangerous scissors.

Jimin, his hands shaking, finally managed to reach for the scissors, his movements hesitant and painfully slow. The fear in his eyes was evident as he finally managed to grip the scissors tightly. With a quick, nervous motion, he snatched the scissors away from Jungkook. The moment he successfully took the scissors, his fear transformed into a small, relieved smile.

Jimin’s smile was small but genuine. He held out the plushie he had brought, his hands still trembling slightly. The simple gesture was meant to comfort. Jimin’s face was a mixture of fear and hope, as if he was unsure but determined.

Jungkook’s wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto Jimin, his fear evident in every quiver of his lower lip. Jimin, sitting down beside him, gently wiped Jungkook’s nose with a tissue, his touch tender and careful. “Na-um,” Jimin said softly, "you have running rose" though he winced at his own mistake. He meant to say “nose,” but the word came out wrong.

Jungkook blinked, his confusion evident. “Rose?” he asked through his sobs, trying to make sense of the word. Jimin smiled, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “No, no,” he corrected, wiping away Jungkook’s tears. “It’s nose.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he processed the correction, his small frame still shivering with distress. Jimin extended the plushie, his smile never faltering, and Jungkook took it, clutching it tightly to his chest. Jimin continued to wipe away the tears, his touch soothing and reassuring. “I want dada,” Jungkook whimpered, his voice cracking with the weight of his grief.

Jimin looked at him with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “Your dada and moma went to meet God,” he said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. “But don’t cry, my mama is there too. She’ll take care of them. You can come with me.” His arms enveloped Jungkook in a tight, comforting hug. “Dada and I will love you too,” he promised, his voice gentle yet firm.

Jungkook buried his face in Jimin’s shoulder, his sobs muffled against the older boy’s warmth. The comfort of Jimin’s embrace was a balm to his wounded heart, even as the pain of loss clung to him.

Jungkook snapped back to the present, his thoughts interrupted by Jimin’s voice. “What are you thinking?” Jimin asked, his gaze steady and inquisitive, eyebrows raised in concern. Jungkook met his eyes, the depth of his past mingling with the present moment, a silent testament to their unspoken bond.

Jungkook shook his head, trying to clear away the haunting memories of his past. His fingers raked through his hair, and he rubbed his face roughly, a frustrated groan escaping him. “How many people are going to be there? You know I can’t stand crowds,” he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.

Jimin forced a small, reassuring smile, though he knew it wouldn’t do much good. “Not many. Just a few key people.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, the annoyance evident in the clench of his jaw. “A few is already too many. My head’s already pounding,” he snapped, his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he braced himself for the chaos ahead.

Jimin nodded, choosing not to press the issue further. They exited Jungkook’s office and entered the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Jungkook’s fingers hovered over the button before he pressed it with a reluctant, almost resentful force. His jaw was set in a tight line, his gaze unfocused as he mentally prepared for the storm he was about to face. The constant hum of thoughts from others—their fears, their doubts, their deceit—always hit him like a relentless hammer.

When the elevator finally dinged open, they stepped out and headed down the corridor toward the conference room. Jungkook’s pace slowed, and his eyes narrowed with growing discomfort as he glimpsed the crowd inside. He froze in his tracks, his expression darkening as he took in the scene.

Jimin noticed the shift and turned, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw the room packed with over ten people, all engaged in animated discussions, flipping through files, and shuffling papers. He swallowed hard, bracing for the outburst he knew was coming. Jungkook was not just angry; he was seething.

Jungkook’s pulse throbbed violently in his temples, the noise in his head growing louder and more chaotic with each passing second. Why the hell are there so many people? His vision blurred with a red-hot rage, the voices in his head swirling like a storm. Thoughts of greed, nervousness, and the pointless chatter of those who didn’t belong in that room assaulted him. It felt like a thousand nails being driven into his skull.

He clenched his fists tighter, his nails biting into his palms as he glared at the chaotic scene before him. His shoulders tensed, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. Jungkook’s eyes were hard, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. Ever since childhood, his ability to hear thoughts had been a curse, leaving him drowning in the relentless cacophony of other people’s minds. It bred paranoia and distrust, deepening his isolation with each passing year. In business, it was a weapon that cut through deception. But in moments like this, it was pure, unrelenting torture.

Jungkook had always maintained strict rules—rules designed to keep the chaos at bay and ensure he never felt overwhelmed. These weren’t just for his comfort; they were integral to the company’s policies. Everyone knew the consequences of ignoring them.

Now, every one of those employees was breaking the most critical rule. And you—you were responsible for this. It was your job to ensure everything was in order. This wasn’t just a lapse in competency; it was a violation of the very structure he had meticulously built to shield himself.

Inside the conference room, one of the employees glanced up and spotted Jungkook standing just outside the glass door. The color drained from his face as the gravity of their mistake hit him like a freight train. His eyes darted around the room, and panic spread like wildfire. Heads turned, and whispers flared as the realization of the impending disaster set in.

Jungkook’s eyes were a smoldering fire as he fixed his gaze on you, seated at the head of the table, engrossed in the files before you. You were blissfully unaware of the storm brewing outside. You’re about to learn the hard way, Jungkook thought darkly, his anger mingling with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Beside him, Jimin’s shoulders tensed, bracing for the inevitable explosion. He knew Jungkook’s temper, fueled by his ability, could be a force of nature when pushed to the edge. Jimin could only hope that you wouldn’t face the full brunt of Jungkook’s fury and end up quitting—or worse, being fired on your very first day.

Jungkook’s gaze swept over the employees, each one scrambling to hide their files or avert their eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, flicked to Jimin. The silent exchange between them crackled with tension—Jungkook’s fury was palpable, simmering beneath the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. Jimin, acutely aware of how Jungkook could hear every thought forming in his mind, swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation. Though he wasn’t frightened for himself, he was deeply concerned for you.

Before Jimin could piece together a proper defense, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “It’s our company policy. We went over this before hiring employees. Didn’t you tell her?” His tone was frigid, emphasizing that no more than four people were to be present in a room when he was there, especially for business meetings. The more people, the harder it was for him to think and focus.

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tried to formulate a response, but he knew Jungkook had already heard the scramble in his thoughts. Despite that, he forced himself to speak, his voice trembling. “I did. It was the first thing we discussed. I-I don’t know why—”

Jungkook didn’t wait for more. His anger radiated off him in waves as he spun on his heel, the force of his movement causing his coat to flare dramatically. He stormed toward the conference room, his steps heavy and deliberate, each one a sign of the tempest brewing inside him. Jimin stood rooted to the spot. He knew what was about to break loose.

Jungkook yanked the door open with a force that made everyone inside flinch, the loud crash of metal against the frame echoing through the room. The atmosphere shifted instantly—from anxious to petrified. Fear rippled through the group like a cold, biting wind, sending shivers down their spines. The employees sat frozen, their bodies rigid as they instinctively shrank back in their chairs, eyes wide and filled with terror.

You, who had been engrossed in your document, sensed the sudden silence and glanced up. Your confusion deepened as you took in the sight of your colleagues’ horrified faces. Your gaze settled on Jungkook, who stood at the door, his presence radiating a raw, menacing energy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a cold knot of unease tightening as you realized something had gone terribly wrong.

Before you could fully comprehend the situation, Jungkook’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Everyone out. Now.”

His command was like a whip cracking through the room, the harshness of his tone making you flinch involuntarily. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you barely managed to suppress the yelp that threatened to escape. Around you, the cacophony of chairs scraping against the floor filled the room as employees scrambled to their feet. They moved with frantic, jerky motions, their faces pale and their eyes darting nervously as they rushed toward the door like animals fleeing from a predator.

Your pulse raced as you followed the surge of panicked workers, your own fear pushing you toward the exit. You stumbled slightly as you tried to keep pace with the chaotic stampede, your hands gripping the edge of the table for support. Your face was a mask of anxious determination, your eyes scanning the room one last time before you joined the flood of people spilling into the corridor. Each step felt like a race against your mounting anxiety as you hurried to get out of Jungkook’s way.

But just as you were about to slip past him, a hand shot out, clamping down on your arm with an iron grip. Jungkook yanked you back, his hold unyielding, and the force sent you stumbling. You barely regained your balance, your breath hitching as shock flickered across your face. It was only for a split second before you masked it, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, dangerous—a quiet menace that slithered down your spine like ice.

Didn’t he just dismiss everyone? Your brow furrowed, confusion and wariness mingling in your eyes as you looked up at him. But your silence only stoked the fire in his gaze. It infuriated him that he couldn’t read you like he did everyone else. He’d always resented the noise in his head from other people’s thoughts, but now, faced with your unnerving quietness, he almost wished he could hear you. The not knowing clawed at his insides, tightening his jaw as he stepped closer.

The distance between you evaporated, replaced by the electric tension crackling in the air. You found yourself pressed back against the cool glass, caged between it and his broad frame. His presence was suffocating, a potent mix of power and danger that made it impossible to think straight. Your breath quickened, your chest rising and falling as you felt the heat of him, the scent of his cologne mixing with the underlying sharpness of his irritation.

But even as fear coiled in your belly, there was a flash of stubborn defiance in your eyes. You straightened your back, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. You might be cornered, but you weren’t about to cower.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smirk, dark and taunting, his gaze holding yours captive. “You really have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” The words slipped out in a smooth, taunting drawl, each one cutting deeper than the last. His eyes searched your face, hunting for a crack in your composure, a hint of the emotions swirling beneath your surface. But all he got was the same maddening blankness, a mystery he couldn’t unravel.

Your pulse raced in your throat, so loud you were sure he could hear it. The steady hum of the air conditioning felt like the only anchor in a room that was spinning out of control. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and unreadable, while yours darted briefly to the door—your only escape. But the moment you did, his hand slid to the side of your face, forcing your gaze back to his. The touch wasn’t rough, but it was possessive, a silent command not to even think about leaving.

“Mr. Jeon, I don’t understand…” you murmured, trying to sound steady, but the tremor in your voice gave you away. Your cheeks burned, the embarrassment only adding to the tension coiling tighter between you.

“Oh, you don’t understand?” he mocked, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in, crowding your space even more. His breath brushed against your cheek, warm and laced with an edge that sent goosebumps rippling down your arms. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as his smirk deepened. “Then let’s simplify it. Did you miss the part about company policies, or are you just too stubborn to follow the rules?” The disdain in his voice was thick, each word slow and deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fought to maintain some semblance of control. You knew you were trembling, and it infuriated you that he could see it—that he was enjoying it. But you couldn’t back down, not when every nerve in your body was screaming to run. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from fear and from something else—something dangerous that curled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel both cornered and alive in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Jungkook’s patience snapped like a fraying thread. His eyes darkened, and before you could react, he slammed his hand against the glass next to your head with a crack that made you flinch. Your breath caught in your throat, heart hammering as his looming presence boxed you in. “Still don’t get it?” he growled, each word dripping with disdain. “N-O M-O-R-E T-H-A-N F-O-U-R. How hard is that to grasp?” He dragged out each letter slowly, his tone condescending as if scolding a child.

Your stomach twisted with dread as realization hit—you’d seriously messed up. Your voice felt trapped in your throat, your mind scrambling for an explanation that might save you. “I thought it was okay since it was an important meeting,” you stammered, hoping to justify your actions. But the second the words left your mouth, you knew you’d made it worse. Jungkook’s eyes blazed, his jaw clenching so tightly that you could see the tension in his neck.

Before he could lash out again, Jimin quickly stepped in, grabbing Jungkook’s arm. “Jungkook, calm down,” he urged, his voice tinged with concern. He knew the drill—Jungkook’s temper had already chased off three secretaries this month alone. You were barely hanging on by a thread, and it was only your first day.

Jungkook roughly shrugged Jimin off, his gaze snapping back to you with a dangerous intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned in so close you could feel the heat of his breath, his words laced with venom. “Thought?” he sneered. “That’s generous. Clearly, thinking isn’t your strong suit.”

The insult hit like a slap, stoking a fire deep within you. You were scared, yes, but also furious. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you glared up at him, refusing to back down. “You don’t have to be so rude. I was just trying to do my job!” you shot back, your voice trembling with both anger and fear.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was nothing warm about it—it was pure mockery. “Oh, you’re doing a fantastic job—if your goal was to completely ignore the rules and make my life a living hell.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, every word cutting deeper.

“I didn’t ignore the rules! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal!” Your voice grew louder as frustration took over. You were tired of being belittled, tired of him acting like you were some incompetent fool.

“Not a big deal?” Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his expression turning ice-cold. He stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you. “You have no idea the chaos you’ve caused. Maybe you should go back to whatever hole you crawled out from.”

His cruel words hit like a punch to the gut, but you forced yourself to hold your ground. You lifted your chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a defiance that you weren’t sure you could sustain. But despite your best efforts, your voice wavered as you said, “That’s uncalled for! I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to insult me!”

Jungkook’s eyes glinted with a predatory edge as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your skin. “Insult you? I’m just stating facts. If you can’t handle the truth, maybe this isn’t the place for you.” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper, each word pressing down on you like a weight.

The air between you was thick with tension, both of you staring each other down as if waiting for the other to break. Your pulse raced, your chest tightening with fear as you realized how serious he was. You were teetering on the edge of losing everything you’d worked for.

The weight of his words crushed your confidence. You froze, your face paling as the realization set in—was he going to fire you? Panic clawed at your chest. You needed this job. You had worked so hard to get here; you couldn’t lose it on your first day.

“Please, Mr. Jeon. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break the rules. It won’t happen again,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

Jungkook didn’t even look at you as he sat down, his posture commanding the room. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re a liability. I could fire you right now and make sure you never work in this industry again. You’d be left with nothing.” His tone was indifferent, as if he were talking about the weather.

You glanced desperately at Jimin, who was already stepping in again, his tone firmer this time. “Jungkook, it’s her first day. She deserves a chance to learn from this.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver as he shot back coldly, “I don’t give second chances, Jimin.” He turned away, heading toward the conference table like he was done with the conversation. Your heart plummeted. You were losing your job. Panic clawed at your chest, and tears stung at your eyes as you fought to keep your composure.

“Am I fired?” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands trembled as you struggled to keep the tears at bay. “Please, I—I need this job.”

Jimin shot you a sympathetic look before turning back to Jungkook, his expression pleading. “Jungkook, she deserves a chance.”

But Jungkook’s gaze remained cold and unyielding. You felt yourself crumble under the weight of his indifference, desperation clawing at your chest as you stood frozen, waiting for his final verdict.

He walked over to the conference table, his presence dominating the room as he sat down in his designated chair. You remained standing nearby, your tear-filled eyes desperately seeking Jimin for some sign of comfort or reassurance. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over, but your gaze remained locked on Jimin, silently pleading.

Before Jimin could say anything, the door swung open with a soft whoosh, drawing everyone’s attention. Kim Taehyung, the charismatic CEO of Kim Enterprises, strode in, flanked by directors Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon. Their entrance was like a burst of fresh air after a storm. They greeted Jimin with warm hugs and hearty laughs, their easy camaraderie bringing a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere.

“We’ll discuss this later. Right now, let’s get to the meeting,” Jimin muttered hastily, his tone strained as he guided you back to your seat. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you fumbled with your notebook, your fingers almost too unsteady to hold the pen. The cold sweat on your palms made the notebook feel slick and foreign.

The meeting began, and the room buzzed with business talk. Taehyung’s easy charm filled the space, his smile warm and engaging as he discussed strategies and future projects. His gestures were animated—hands slicing through the air, a thoughtful tilt of his head as he spoke. Seokjin and Namjoon chimed in, their voices confident as they shared insights on market trends and potential expansions. Their ease was a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that lingered around Jungkook.

You tried to focus on taking notes, but your concentration was shattered by the weight of the earlier confrontation. Your gaze repeatedly flicked to Jungkook, who sat rigidly at the head of the table. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes, though directed at the documents in front of him, held a simmering intensity. The muscle in his cheek twitched occasionally, betraying his frustration. The tension in his posture was palpable; even the slightest shift seemed to radiate hostility.

Each time Jungkook shifted in his seat or cleared his throat, your heart skipped a beat. The fear coiled tighter around your chest with every passing minute. Your thoughts were a chaotic swirl of anxiety, replaying the confrontation in a loop. The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, a relentless reminder of how precarious your situation was.

As Taehyung continued to speak with infectious enthusiasm, you struggled to keep your focus on the meeting. Your eyes betrayed your fear, darting nervously between your notebook and Jungkook, who remained an imposing, silent presence. The contrast between Taehyung’s relaxed demeanour and Jungkook’s brooding silence only heightened your sense of dread.

The fear of losing your job, the very job you’d fought so hard to get, was like a shadow hanging over you. The room's buzzing conversations faded into a distant hum as you tried to hold onto a shred of composure, your thoughts a tumultuous storm of anxiety. The possibility of being fired on your first day loomed like a dark cloud, overshadowing every attempt to engage with the meeting.

Was it really possible to lose everything you’d worked for on your very first day?

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just send me an ask.

And drabble requests and character asks are open!

Taglist: @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo

[dorkiborkii]

🌌 “We,” Lance corrects, wiggling around to get comfortable, which seems like an impossible endeavor on this hard marble surface, “are going stargazing.”

Keith glances around at the handful of people milling about. Raises a brow at Lance and wonders, “Here?” 🌠

⭐️ EEEEKKK another fanfic fanart!!!! so late to it but ‘Read All About It’ by starlightment on ao3 is so good! i’ve been obsessing over it so if you haven’t read it, go and do that!!!

(this took almost 9 hrs)

[bibleofficial]

jk now it’s here ? i hope they kill themselves

i hope everyone in holland kills themselves actually. got my fucking phone nicked from some bastards & then the police couldn’t find it; i locked it bc it was turned off immediately & guess where it is now -_-

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

"ONBOARDING"

[A/N: Seriously guys, there is no reason why Alucard should be so hard to write XD. He (in cannon) is such a discordant, confusingly consistent mess, OMG. Though I suppose that’ll happen after centuries of consuming souls…Well, at least he’s found a job that he loves! Also, reader is female and American] [EDIT: Forgot to @thirstyforlulu 😅]

“B-by myself!?”

You were at a loss for words. Asset management, training, recruitment. For the latter, you weren’t even sure of the logistics behind that. How could you run an entire HR department by yourself!? The background of the elegant room, the somber undertones, and the echo of your voice did nothing to salve the already desperate disposition of your nerves. As the smoke from the cigar of the steely eyed woman across from you dissipated into the air, a naughty thought appeared:Maybe the reason she puffs on that foul-smelling bundle of herbs is because of the stick she keeps up her—Suddenly, you felt the advance of many tiny legs up your arm and instinctively moved to swat away the possible offender. Nothing…

"Is that a problem?"The woman said as another puff of smoke left her plump lips. The unyielding nature of her gaze pinned you to the spot.The way her blue eyes bore into yours and the enunciation of your name made it clear that she dared you to respond. You did not.The decision was already made for you.There was no getting out of this. "You are to ensure the proper conduct of all personnel under the employ of my organization. You will be solely responsible for the results of this endeavour, be it success or failure. If the conditions in which you will do so do not accommodate your skill, then consider yourself terminated. If this is not the case, you are dismissed".

The openness of the hallway was a refreshing reprieve. Walking a short distance away from Sir Integra's office, you caught your bearings and reflected on your circumstances. "I guess that means I'm hired..."

You walked down a corridor, not really having a destination in mind. You just needed to think. ‘Am I really cut out for this?’ It all just felt so overwhelming. What if you failed? How would you be able to afford to get back home? Could you go back home? Already, the familiar warmth of tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes.

The eerie silence of the hallways seemed to swallow you whole as the weight of your uncertainty bore down. Your muffled footsteps left soft thuds against the carpeted marble floor, the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. As if sensing your distress, the door lining the corridor slowly creaked open and beckoned you forth, revealing dimly lit rooms. Shadows danced within, casting an unsettling atmosphere that matched your turbulent thoughts. The soft yellow glow of the hallway lights bounced off of your ID badge and mixed with its myriad of colors. Your eyes traced over the hard piece of plastic, already sick of seeing the organization’s namesake. You shook your head. No, you can't think like this anymore! Stop with the negative self-talk! You’re not in America anymore— this is your chance to start again and prove yourself. You deserved to be here! As you continued to wander, the air within the building began to grow colder and clammier. The sudden oppressiveness of the atmosphere made even breathing uncomfortable. ‘What's going on?’ From your periphery, a particular painting caught your eye. It was of an aristocratic woman. Elegant and tall. Though beautiful, something was off. The eyes...Why were they red? You stood under the painting, observing it like a child would an attraction. Though sizable, you felt like the painting’s dwarfing effect couldn’t exactly be attributed to the painting's breadth.

"I see you've discovered Lady Integra's collection." For a short time, your surroundings were a blur as your eyes searched for the new variable.Your sights found its prize when it rested on the source of the rich baritone and smokey cologne: A man. As his chiseled jawline, silky raven hair, and broad shoulders emerged from the darker corners of the hall, more of his appearance came to light. Atop his dark tresses, laid a red wide brimmed hat that matched his red duster , and underfoot, were long leather boots. To complete the man’s strange ensemble, was his pair of orange sunglasses that reflected a brilliant sunset orange amongst the backdrop of shadows. Was this a popular dress style in England? You regarded the strange man with a level of suspicion, allowing the swell of goose pimples that were beginning to form to justify your apprehension. Clearly, this man must be an employee here; after all, he just spoke of Sir Integra. But where is his ID badge? You released a cold puff of air and gathered yourself.

“Y-yes, I have. It’s quite beautiful.” After a short pause, the man gives an appreciative hum. He approached the painting- and by extension, you- with measured strides.Though you tried not to make it obvious, the way your eyes tracked every inch of the man’s movement made your anxiety palpable. You eyed the man’s Adam’s Apple as it bobbed, like he was drinking in your fear. You chided yourself for the silly thought. Peeking through the sides of his glasses, you swore you saw crimson. It’s just a trick of the light.

“Aye, it is, isn't it? A true testament to humanity's will to rebuke what is their natural inheritance. It is but an inevitability, the grip of death, yet pieces like these ensure one will forever persist; even if it is through mere paper and colored earth. Humans…are so fascinating.”

You look up at the strange man, taking into consideration his words. “I��never really thought about it in that way. I suppose the tendency for humanity to preserve itself can be admirable, but I also can’t help but wonder when it stops being worth it to try. How many hours of labor and hardship did it take for one to even get the materials for this? Was the artist that was commissioned for this even compensated? Were they under duress? Countless resources, likely at others expense, just to spite the inevitable. At what point does it become insanity to continue?” To some extent, you wonder if the investment in such decadence could ever not be seen as tasteful. The man tilted his head in confusion, though his glasses made it difficult to tell. He later meets your gaze once more with a wide grin. “And yet it is here for you to ponder on. You still admire it, do you not?” You suppose he’s right about that…you suppose. “Mmh.”

“Alucard” What? Oh, of course, your name! “ W-here are my manners? It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alucard!" You extended your arm for a handshake. Alucard raised an eyebrow, his expression hinting amusement at your sudden enthusiasm . Despite this, he gently took your hand in his. "The pleasure is all mine, dear" he murmurs, his voice smooth like velvet. As he released your hand, but not before a moment of arrest. The man was unnaturally cold. This made little sense considering he was wearing gloves. You stared down at them, noticing the odd symbols that traced along the smooth fabric.

"So, do you work here?” You ask nervously. “...My dear child, military compounds are not known for hosting tours” Alucard chuckles. You blushed as you kicked yourself for having asked such a stupid question. Unfortunately, it was not the last, but as the conversation between the two of you progressed, you found his biting sarcasm to be…entertaining? Clearly, the man was just as (if not more) entertained by you. From the sneaking glances at his spectacles, hints of amusement expressed itself through the veiled outlines of his eyes.

“Say, earlier when we were talking about that painting, you mentioned something about how humans are ‘fascinating’...” His strong jaw tilted to give you a cryptic expression. The corners of his eyes crinkled in delight as his cheshire smile welded together to tease a truth not yet privy to you. “Yes, and what of it?”

Swirling sunset eyes met with yours. Questions went unsaid and the impossibility of his eye’s inhuman color went unattended to by your psyche. Drawn to his preternatural beauty like a moth to a flame, your delicate digits found respite along the cool angles of Alucard's jaw; his long arms wrapped around your delicate waist in turn.

The satisfied gleam in his eyes turned a bright vermillion, though this did not register to you. After all, how could it when the point of his nose felt so good against the curve of your neck? How could anything matter when the light feather kisses along the new trail of bruises felt so right? You were floating on a fluffy cloud. You leaned in more to seek the comfort of his tongue's girth as he further suckled upon your skin. Pads of your breasts being kneaded was the button needed to release the breathy moan that escaped from your lips. You ached with need, he could smell it. A whine escaped from your lips as Alucard withdrew slightly, a wicked grin spread across his face as he assessed your feeble state. Your arm tickled at the way his gloved fingers danced along your skin. Your jaw felt good in between his fingers, you thought.

“My dear, you wished to know what I meant when I spoke of humanity…Do you still want to know?” It was unfair really. How could you possibly answer such a thing when he was toying with your body like this? When his large hands dared to roam under the fabric of your clothes and to your heat? When his tall nose tickled its way so sweetly along the surface of your cheek until his lips could reach the shell of your ear to continue whispering sweet temptations? Bent sinfully, the Vampire King sampled more of your flavor, though careful not to break any skin—Yet.

“Why do you reject it? Why deny yourself ? Sweet thing, allow me to show you the pleasures of surrender.” 'That... Maybe that wouldn't be so bad...', your mind drifts. The ghost of affirmation clung to your lips by a finger. That shouldn't be a problem, right?

“Is that a problem?” Your mind thought back to that woman..

Blood, as Alucard has learned over the centuries, tasted better when given freely. He just needed the word. He began to coo at you, sure that his prize was soon to be had. Your eyebrows knitted together and your hands reached to push at Alucard's broad shoulders. From your periphery, true would be found. His teeth…His eyes…You couldn't even recall when he'd taken off his glasses…

He's going to kill you, isn't he? Your first day on the job... Will be your last. Though the bulk of your freewill had mostly seeped out and left a vast space for persuasion, the 'bulk of' didn’t mean all. Blunt nails made harsh contact with soft skin. Streaks of scrapped flesh mirrored the streaks of salty water that cascaded down your cheeks. Quickly, reserved defiance turned into a desperate fight for life. Just as quickly, however, your body tired and could no longer accommodate your frantic attempts. Your mind followed suit when the previous bloody tears against pale flesh sealed; leaving no sign of damage behind. “H-help!” It seemed that no such thing would come. Worse than before, the echoes of your voice did nothing to salve the desperate disposition of your nerves. You were truly alone…Never had a smile looked so sickening.

You weren't going to win. Whoever this is, whatever this is, was going to kill you and there was nothing you could do about it.

"Please... Make it quick” Alucard, at your words, sniffed in disgust. His initial features of surprise quickly turned into an acrid distaste. Suddenly, the rotten blood of ghouls would be more preferable than the presence of a coward. Humans who were so willing to just forfeit their life...

"Disgusting," Alucard spits out, recoiling as if offered a meal of festered meat and a chalice of pus. Disdain etches itself onto his angular features, a look of utter contempt. His venomous glare pierced through you, freezing your very soul. Though “free”, you were not sure if you were better off in this situation or the former. Meek human eyes locked gazes with hot coals from the depths of hell.

“BACK AWAY FROM THE GIRL OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO SHOOT!"

The man in the familiar tactical gear,‘Birminghamman’, you vaguely recall, shouts as he points his firearm at the haunting figure. The presence of another human did not, unfortunately, improve your spirits. In fact, the presence of more bodies and more guns made the situation ironically more tense. Red eyes laid no heed to the crowd forming around the spectacle; it's attention only on you.

There was no other form of acknowledgement other than a mere scoff. The specter of a man swiveled on booted heels and was welcomed by the darker expanse of the hallway. Crimson lined shadows retreated, leaving nothing but dotted black plumes in its wake.

Birmingham was the last to lower his gun. "M-miss, are you alright?” You really weren't sure how to answer that question. Were you okay? “Listen, if you need to go to the infirmar—”, You recoiled at his reassuring gesture, only able to stare back owlishly.

You were told everything.

[boomboom-tanjiro2019]

Easy

PT. 1 EX! READER X EX! ACE

Description: Angst but also ridiculous-extra stupid-shit. Reader does some wrong but so will Ace. HAPPY ENDING (No one dies and everyone gets what they need in the end) MODERN AU!!

WORD COUNT: 3680

Prologue

“And you are sure you are getting the promotion today?” Nami raised an eyebrow over to you. 

You roll your eyes, “Psh… Nami, you realize who I am right? Cecil adores me, and we already know she’s going to retire. I think she’s calling me in the office because she’s retiring even earlier than accepted, I mean, she’s old as shit.”

“Ugh… she lectured me on how girls her age didn’t wear skirts as short as mine when they were my age… it was below my knee, Y/N. AND I’m not even in the marketing department, I’m in finance, why was she even concerned about me?!”

“Well… when I am Chief of Marketing to take her place, I will instead encourage you to wear sexy outfits, Nami.” You wink exaggeratedly.

Nami smiles and shakes her head, “Flattering, but HR might not find that as entertaining as we do.”

“Oh yeah that’s not good.” You pause and fake sigh, “Our love will have to be hidden.”

Nami sheds a fake tear, “We are like the platonic Romeo and Juliet… you know… without the death… and pedophilia…”

“A shame I think it would add drama and spice … the death part- not the pedophilia, obviously.” You sigh and place a hand on Nami’s shoulder, “We are unintentionally HR’s worst nightmare I think.”

She shrugs, “Jinbei will understand.”

You stop at a large entrance with two tall engraved wooden doors with shiny golden knobs, a small white and black houndstooth placemat in front of the door, looking out of place compared to the modern marble floor, white walls, and bold furniture and paintings along the rest of the hallway. You had felt the peculiar feeling of walking through those doors a million times before, it was like time traveling back 50 years. How Cecil, a woman who had seen the dinosaurs and who did not bear the resolve to advance her views further than the 1700s became Chief of MARKETING for a RESORT company? Well nobody was exactly sure, by all means it made no sense. Cecil liked you because you sucked up to her, but made sure the company still advanced by undermining just about every request she had. In fact you were sure if Cecil were left to her own devices, Sabo and the folks in the law department would be drowning in lawsuits. 

You turn back to Nami one last time, “My outfit look modest enough?”

Nami nodded, “I can’t wait for you to be able to wear clothes that fit. I’ve seen your actual closet…” She raked your body up and down, making sure to focus on the bland gray and horrid shoes. “...This is a crime in comparison. 

“Great. Wish me luck.” You raise up your hand for a high five, to which Nami immediately reciprocates, before stomping off in her purple skirt and blouse with beautiful jewelry that might have given Cecil a heart attack had she seen it. 

You knock on the door, “Chief Brookes?”

“Come in!” Her scraggly voice calls out.

You open the door and step through, careful to shut the door and resist walking down the horrifically long, green brown rug Cecil used to guide a pathway to her desk. 

“Ah. Y/N.” She gives a smile. Though she was around 68, she looked more to be in her mid-fifties. Absolutely gorgeous woman with a smile that makes you feel safe. That is, until she cuts into you with jabs about your work and overall appearance. Not only that, but so terrible at her job that higher management has been waiting for her to retire. They have come to the conclusion that waiting for her to either kick it or retire in an eccentric manner is better than having to fire her. “My favorite protege.”

Only protege. No part of Cecil Brooke’s favor towards you was accidental. Though part of you had to admire Cecil’s spite and lack of tact. Your admiration might be deeper had she actually been good at her job. “Hello Mrs. Brookes.” You carefully walk up to her desk with a polite smile. 

She smiles wider, “You know I’d rather you call me Cecil.” She lies. She enjoys the hierarchy culture. “Sit sit!”

You carefully pull out the chair and sit down. Making a show of laying your hands down in your lap gently, a stark contrast from the person your team has seen these last few years, “Can I ask what you called me in for?"

Cecil nods and her expression hardens. She grabs a tissue box from across her desk and places it in between you two. “Just in case…”

Good sign.

“I called you in here because… very tragically and very suddenly… I have decided to cut my career short.”

‘If she considers that short, I can only grieve for her husband’s self esteem.’

“What?” You make a point of furrowing your eyebrows, “With all due respect-“ which is none. “-You can’t just quit when the company needs you so desperately.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in. You must be shocked.”

“I’m flabbergasted.”

“It’s tragic, truly.”

“Truly” you nod, slowly shifting your expression from false outrage, to false disbelief, to false sadness. 

“Don’t worry.” She reaches her hand over yours, “I will still be here for 4 weeks. I will teach you everything you need to know…”

‘Even better sign.’

“I am… heavily considering recommending you to take on my position.”

You gasp, “Mrs. Brookes! I couldn’t-“

“You can.” She smiles, “With my guidance over the next few weeks, I believe I can teach you my ways. I will be testing you along the way though. It won’t be easy.”

‘Anything is easier than trying to make our marketing department mediocre at best with you rejecting all of our ideas.‘

“I understand. I am honored to be in your thoughts…”

She puts her hand over her heart, “You just remind me of myself so much.” She sighs, “Well then… I guess that’s it. I will follow up with you later.” She shakes your hand.

You say your goodbyes and walk down the vomit inducing carpet. It would be the first thing to go.

“Y/N? One more thing for tomorrow.”

——————————————————————

You stand near the entrance of one of the interview rooms on the first floor. The one HR usually uses for interviews. Today, it was your interview room, along with Cecil’s if she ever decided to show up. The possible employee would be there in 20 minutes, 10 if they decide to be smart and come off as a try hard. Cecil’s favorite breed of person.

“Y/N?” You hear a familiar voice call out. Sabo. Team 5 leader in the law department, brother of two significant people in your life. Luffy and your ex boyfriend. Though it’s apparent your ex refrained from giving details of the relationship’s end by Sabo’s continued comfortability and friendship with you, though this day it didn’t seem so. “What are… you doing here?” He gives a strained toothy smile.

“Waiting for Cecil so we can start this interview.”

“Right… but… wouldn’t the… team manager the position is under be doing the interview?” He stays smiling, though it gets more and more unsettling as he whips his head around, “Isn’t it supposed to be Yamato doing the interview? Where is heeee?” He laughs in a rather scared manner.

“Change of plans. New employee is under my team until further notice.” You raise an eyebrow at him, “Why?”

“…No reason.” Sabo squeaks out, “Bye now!” Just like that, he is turning the corner on his heel as fast as he can. You hear a thud at one point followed by a curse but you try to ignore it.

Cecil appears from around the corner, dressed like a neon Cruella De’Vil. Her makeup masking her natural olden beauty with a clown color palette. She gives you a curt nod and unlocks the door, expecting you to follow along with her actions wordlessly and fluently. Thank goodness after years of staring her down to copy her mannerisms, this comes easy. You both sit next to each other in the room as Cecil decides to speak her first word of the day, “I will finish my section, then you will speak your peace. I will give you a 50% say in this. Since the new graphic artist will be under your team. Your first test is managing a new employee on top of the new marketi-“ something something something.

You just nod and smile until she is interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a muffled sound sounding like Sabo’s voice saying ‘you can just open it’ whoever it is decided that this is a great idea and finally turns the knob. You glance down at the paper you realize you have yet to read any of or review at all. Drinking with your girls out of excitement took up valuable time. You hear the sudden stop of steps as you stay glued to the page, determined to at least scan over the resume-

Portgas D. Ace: Grand Line Resort, Graphic Artist job application.

No. No. No. You look up to meet the face you’ve avoided for a good 5 years. Chocolate brown eyes, splatters of freckles, muscled physique, bronze skin…

You can’t read his mind but if you could you are sure it would be the same thought as yours.

Fuck.

———-

“Fuck” A man you assume is Luffy’s brother says as he stares at you. Frozen like a deer in headlights.

He was coming out of the bathroom. Quickly going to grab a towel from the hallway closet in the flat he shared with his brothers. How was he supposed to know one of Luffy’s… hot friends would be here? The one he would eye across the one class he had with you during a professor’s boring lecture?

Your eyes unintentionally drift down as you try to comprehend what you are seeing. You quickly regret it. Your eyes dart up and you try to forget what you’ve already seen.

You two make eye contact for a few seconds before he, still wide eyed, closes the door while you dart down the hallway. You aren’t going to forget that first impression anytime soon.

———— 

You remember your first legitimate sight of Ace, a memory that is not helping you in this situation at all. A different memory seems to be playing in Ace’s head by the look on his face as he takes in your appearance. Looking for changes maybe. 

Ace shakes Cecil’s hand casually, but falters when he reaches you. What is he going to do? Pretend like he doesn’t know you?

“Good afternoon. I’m Ace, last name is Portgas.” He smiles at you but you can read in between the lines. He is as unprepared as you are. 

Though Ace is smiling and behaving semi-normal despite the situation, you are sure your body language and facial expressions convey your true thoughts. You sit there still as a brick as Cecil gestures for him to take a seat. 

He doesn’t look at you. Cecil introduces you at one point but his eyes look almost past you. Cecil doesn’t seem to notice anything off about his demeanor, but you do. He runs his fingers through his hair one to many times, his blinking is way too fast, he leans forward too much, and the arm closest to you isn’t on the table like the other one is. Details you aren’t sure how you remember.

Questions go by, when answering Cecil’s questions he turns to your direction but his eyes stare right past you as he answers. As soon as he turns to you his breathing quickens, his hand clenches and his shoulders tense. All things you notice before he turns back to Cecil to make eye contact with her.

Cecil coughs and turns her head in your direction. You know what for, though you’d rather be anywhere but here. You cross your fingers and hope you and Cecil don’t have the same questions since you were not at all paying attention.

“So, Mr. Portgas, how did you hear about this job?” You tilt your head curiously.

He takes a breath as soon as you speak your first word. He looks like he’s holding onto every word as you speak. “My brother works here… he recommended this position because I have an art major.”

You nod. Sabo must’ve been shaken because of you interviewing and having Ace in your team, “Impressive. And what can you bring to the position?” You squint your eyes skeptically

Ace freezes, “I believe…” he loosens his tie nervously.

You glance at Cecil, who is taking note of his behavior. Cutthroat bitch. Part of you is internally celebrating at the prospect of Ace not being a potential employee, but the other half is begging him to get it together.

“I can bring a new and innovative point of view to the team. Though this is my first legitimate office job and that can be a challenge to adjust to… but I’m not worn down from the job or stuck to the old way of doing things because of it.” It’s a decent answer, though Cecil doesn’t seem to appreciate his response.

You can see Ace is overthinking his answer in his mind, though his proud smirk says otherwise. He wants this done as soon as possible. Quite frankly, so do you. “That’s it for me. Thank you.” You say as quickly as possible.

Ace mumbles, “Thank you.”

Cecil didn’t seem too impressed with that either.

…That’s a good thing, yeah?

Cecil’s lips purse as she stares back at him, “Here at Hiraeth Resort, though our other departments may embrace new innovation, I have been sure to play our cards safely by using the same technique all these years. I’m afraid this might not be what you are looking for out of a job.”

Ace’s eyebrows furrow at her response, quickly scanning over your face, searching for something, a reaction to her words. The disbelief that you had confined yourself to a job like this etched across his features. His eyes linger on the bland gray and the jewelry metal that differed from your usual. You told him to never buy jewelry in that color, “I assure you I will do a great job no matter what your focus is.”

“...” Cecil analyzes his response before waving her hand, “That is it for me, we will get back to you at some point. I’m sure somebody appreciates the time you spent in this interview.”

That one stung.

You see Ace’s jaw clench and his features narrow before he sighs, “Thank you for your time Mrs. Brookes and… Ms. L/N.” He sends you a look of deep rooted betrayal masked by a layer of professionalism and longing. You aren’t sure which part of it is worse. 

He reaches for a handshake from Cecil, which she does not reciprocate. He hesitantly reaches out for yours, hand shaky. He starts to pull back after a second, but you reach out to meet his hand. The handshake is brief, but the shiver the contact brings you is downright embarrassing. 

As soon as that door shuts, Cecil turns to you, “Absolutely not.”

“...Why?” You should probably just nod and agree like you would with anyone else, no matter how qualified you believed they were. Something stops you.

She almost laughs, “He’s a disaster, sure some of his responses were decent… but a new point of view? Creativity? His job is to draw designs for the company mascot and posters! Look at this portfolio. ¼ of it is tattoo designs.”

“Everyone starts somewhere. He has a ton of job experience, it’s not all tattoo designs. He’s done posters and logos for restaurants and other businesses.”

“Ah yes, because a former firefighter will be very helpful in this job field.” She reads off the job list on Ace’s resume.

Hot. “It shows determination and sacrifice.” And it’s hot.

“I just don’t think he’s a good fit for the company.”

You fiddle with your rings, a color you despise, but it is Cecil’s preferred metal. “He has potential, I believe.”

She turns towards you, disbelief in her eyes, “You’re really for this guy?”

If she finds out about you two having dated, a clear conflict of interest, your chances at that promotion fly away.

You slowly nod, “I think he could be helped.”

Cecil scowls before sighing, “4 week paid internship, at the end of my time here, I will decide if he gets the job or not. You are in charge of shaping him to my standards.”

Your breath hitches. 4 weeks of constant… Ace? Nightmare, horrible idea.

“...Yes ma’am. I will not disappoint you.”

She grabs her pen and writes something down, “You best not, your job future is riding on the line as well. Dismissed.”

—------------------------------------

Nami waves you down frantically as you are headed to the local coffee shop after work, a distressed Sabo and Koala next to her. 

Nami gestures for you to sit down, which you reluctantly comply with, death staring at all three of them while they give you nervous smiles. 

“You all knew?” You ask.

They nod.

“So did everyone else…” Sabo cringes, “But we didn’t think he was going to be under your team… so…”

“Right…”

“Listen… We know the situation is.. Rocky… but Ace needs the job… and there has been a lot going on for him. He got fired from the fire station after breaking Teach’s arm because he insulted pops.” Koala adds

Thank god he didn’t put the fire station as a reference.

“So far one person is for his hiring and the other wants him as far away from her and her department as possible.” You comment.

You immediately are met with a mix of pleading, disappointment and very subtle… threats? The last from Sabo, mainly.

“Guys.” 

They continue. “GUYS!” Their attention finally is on you, “I am for hiring Ace, it’s Cecil who is against it”

Nami pauses and looks up at you, “...That checks out… actually.”

“I may not want Ace to be in proximity to me, but I won’t deny him a job. He has 4 weeks of a paid internship before Cecil decides if he gets a permanent job or not. Believe it or not, I defended Ace, no matter how-” You sigh, “... He is.”

—-------------------------

Sabo opens the door to Ace’s apartment, watching for a moment as pots and pans are roughly dropped on the counter as Ace stomps from fridge to cabinet to counter. “What.” Ace roughly lets out, not making eye contact with Sabo.

“...How’d the interview go…?” He awkwardly smiles. Ace whips his head up and scowls, the expression on his face giving all answers, “Right…”

Ace exhales deeply, “As soon as I saw her there I just knew… Why would you even let me go if you knew before that it was happening? Life just adores me, clearly. We break up, then I finally find some peace with my firefighting job, now that’s over and I come face to face with her. Waiting for her judgment, jobless, unworthy like some pathetic…! Ugh…” He rubs his temples, “I didn’t even read the email, I don’t want to deal with it. I should’ve just stayed at the tattoo shop, but I need to make enough to travel and… Jesus.”

Sabo stays silent before quietly glancing at Ace’s computer, pictures of your instagram open. He gives a wide-eyed stare back at Ace, who closes it and tosses it on his couch. Sabo ignores it and continues his thought, “Y/N defended you. Cecil despised you, but she says that you are being given a 4 week paid internship. Cecil- Mrs. Brookes- will decide at the end of it whether you actually get the job…” He gives a smile and a shrug, “Do with that information what you will.”

—--------------------------

Reason One to hate Portgas D. Ace:

He’s uncooperative

You point the camera back at the tall tan man across from you, trying to forget you have seen this aggravating man naked on your first meeting, “You realize we are doing this interview for you guys’ sakes right? All freshman basketball players this year. You’re on the starting lineup, so people are actually looking at you. And all the answers you have given me are inadequate.”

Ace leans back in his chair with a sigh, “I don’t see the point, really. I’m not trying to go to the NBA or anything.”

“Why?” You say, intrigued.

“...I don’t know?”

You throw your hands up, “Oh. My. God!”

“Why are you doing this anyway? Shouldn’t some sports journalism majors be doing this?”

“They all got caught using Chegg on their assignments and sharing answers in a group chat, so now me and some other Marketing students with a journalism minor have to do it.”

“...Oh.”

You groan, “Let’s try this again, why don’t you want to do basketball after college?”

Ace inhales, “...I don’t know… I guess… I mean… I like it, but I mostly do it because of the people on the team. Also it’s too much publicity… worrying about stepping on people’s toes and shit. Doing it professionally just seems… wrong… I don’t really know what I want to do with my life that I’d be good enough at…”

You turn off the camera, it didn’t seem like the type of response that should be recorded. For a split second, there was no camera, there was no mini microphone you had attached to his shirt. There was no 5 foot distance between the couch he was sitting on, his posture now up straight. It was just… you and this guy. Granted it was a guy you had first “met” when he was naked coming out of his bathroom, but still. Just you. Just you and ‘Ace’  “...It’s freshman year, you still have some time.” You shrug.

“...Yeah…”

You shake your head and turn on the camera again, “Uhh… now for the other questions.”