#and try not to delete everything in a fit of childish pique

[itsallavengers]

god i seriously like,,,,love ur fics?? like every single one of them, even the ones u think arent good are all Quality- how do u do it?? i mean how do u keep up the motivation to carry on writing anything at all, like have u ever got that feeling when u just stop and look at ur writing and think no-ones going to want to carry on reading this, and if so how do u defeat it? im sorry if this is very incoherent btw

bro im literally having that problem as we speak lol. In my eyes, what im writing is legit fucking garbage. where is the pacing??? the emotion? Like im rereading it to edit but I just... with every sentence im like ‘you should never release this to the world if you want to maintain the slightest modicum of dignity’ lol. But... like? Idk, im lucky because i have so many wonderful people ready to validate me at the drop of a hat. It makes me want to post just for them, u know? but yeah, like for me, i wont actually read The Art of Longing/ patchwork people bc i just think its horrendous and terribly paced/ boring. Despite that, I do also know that that has a lot to do with my own self esteem and self confidence, and what im seeing isnt necessarily what others are seeing at all. we perceive only the worst of ourselves because it’s easier than daring to be confident and having the world tell you that confidence is misplaced I guess? and its always been a massive thing for me. But i love writing, and I love having that control over what happens, so when I first got on tumblr and started posting/ receiving feedback from people who seemed also to like what I was doing, I was like??? okay welll maybe this could be something I Do, you know? And whenever it gets rlly bad in my head and i go through one of those ‘delete all your shit you’re just kidding yourself’ phases, I just... sort of step back, look at the comments that people have left, and it makes me feel like im not embarrassing myself so much after all. Its about perspective, really. You have to look at what you’re creating and think about how you would receive it if it came from someone else. What exactly are you finding fault with? why? is it misplaced, or do you genuinely have things you need to work on?

I’d say if it’s getting to you, take a step back from it. Leave it a week and then reread it. Often you see something so many times that you start to see all the flaws that arent there, because you’ve already processed the good stuff. Try and remain objective. Maybe show a friend and ask them for an opinion. I assure you though, you arent as bad as you think lmfao.

[jhope-seok]

chiaroscuro | Part 4

chi·a·ro·scu·ro (n.) /kyärəˈsk(y)o͝orō/: an effect of contrasted light and shadow (used in art); Italian, from chiaro light + oscuro dark

Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author.  I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.

AU/Genre: Mafia x Cop AU (A/N: this chapter is mostly filler and backstory....sorry not sorry. Feel the slow burnnnnn)

Warnings: swearing

Members: Jungkook x Reader (ft. original characters)

Length: 2,489 words

Masterlist | <previous : next>

“You have been cordially invited--”

*click*

“We sincerely appreciate the generous--”

*click*

“Boss, the next shipment arrives in two days.We’re gonna need you--"

*click*

You sigh, rubbing the pads of your fingers against your temples as you click through email after email. You never seem to be able to get ahead of things in this business. Every time you think you've answered every email possible, sorted through all of the junk in your inbox, you refresh and there's ten more emails waiting to be answered. Today is no different, and the sun shining through your office window only worsens the headache that has been growing since you sat down.

Your head pounds beneath your skin; the blood pulsing through your veins like a jackhammer against your fingertips. You sigh, closing your eyes, the smell of your untouched coffee on your desk wrapping itself around your brain and squeezing until you can’t take it. You have to get up and take a walk around your office, get away from the deafening silence from your computer. You grab the coffee cup off of your desk and make your way to go get a fresh cup, hoping it would not only clear your mind but also put your headache at ease.

Your assistant protests the second you walk out of your office, claiming they could get a new cup for you if your old one is cold. You raise your hand, silencing them with a look. They sit down in their seat, biting their lip. You feel bad for being harsh with them, even without using your words you know you've upset them, but you need your own time to think. As the coffee pours out into your cup, staining the white porcelain brown, your mind wanders to your sisters.

You still hadn't reconciled with them, the thought always pressing through your mind that you can’t be head of the business and not speak to your sisters--their jobs essential to the smooth running of every aspect of the company--but you’re far too stubborn to apologize first. Your mind rings with your previous conversation, the sound of the door slamming behind you as you rushed out echoing on in the endless cavern of the hallway. You trudge back to your office, wishing things were easier with them, wishing they knew just how tolling your new position was on you. But you're afraid it will never be as simple as that, they won't ever understand unless they have to experience it first hand. You know to them it seems like all you do is galavant around town, being escorted everywhere by your gigantic bodyguards, but things are harder than they look from the outside.

As you thud back into your chair, taking a sip from your fresh cup of coffee you’re determined to finish your emails; get back on track for the day. That is, until another click of the mouse opens an email from Mona.

"Hey sis,

I know we're not really speaking right now, but the family got invited to the Senator's house; a small gathering for the local business owners. Dad got the initial invite before you stepped in, but he never responded. I know he wants us all to go, so please let me know if you're going so I can give the final head count for the family to the Senator’s secretary. She’s been on me about it, but I know you keep deleting all of the emails I forward you. Please try and let me know by the end of the day.

--Mona”

Your eyes glaze over as you read her email, wondering how she could sit wherever she wrote this from and not once throw in a simple apology. Although your fight was mostly with Rina, Mona had still watched as you stormed out, choosing to side with your other sister. The words on the screen come across almost condescending, as if she thought your actions had been childish, your outrage unwarranted at being told what you did was unimportant.

Your anger bubbles up inside of you as you punch a mindless response.

“Mona,

Honestly, is it even important that I come? You can just mark me as whatever you feel is best for the company, since my opinion doesn’t matter. As long as it’s not too difficult for you to make that decision.

--Y/N”

You know that your response is childish, but it still hurts to know that while you’re struggling to keep a strong presence as the new head of the business, your sisters are gossiping behind your back about how annoyed they are with you; venting about how you’re doing nothing to help. In the moment, all your mind can focus on are the memories of the day you were promoted. You remember how your life seemed to turn on its head at the news you were no longer just a shadow of your father. You’re surprised how time seemed to move so quickly, the last year of your life a blur.

“Y/N, please come upstairs. Your father and I need to speak with you.” The voice of your mother through the intercom rang loudly throughout your empty apartment.

You stopped where you were, on your path from your bedroom to your personal gym. You groaned, hoping she wasn’t still listening to hear your response. You played with the towel around your neck, eyes glancing between the box on the wall next to you and the door to the gym, which was only a few steps away. When you stood there for a few more moments wondering how urgent it was for you to make an appearance, her voice sounded once more, causing you to jump.

“Now!”

The soft click of the sound system indicated that she had stepped away, and was definitely no longer keeping an ear out for what you were saying. Which was the only reason you let out a slew of curses. “It’s Sunday night. What the fuck do they want from me now,” you spoke to no one but yourself. “I don’t want to be bothered by useless shit.”

You tossed your towel onto your couch and trudged quickly out your front door, into the elevator and up into your parent’s three-story mansion inside what most people believed to be an apartment building.

For the most part, that’s exactly what it was. The ground level of the building housed several shops: a corner store with a pharmacy, a small sub shop chain, and a very small boutique, owned by a friend of the family. The other thirty floors in between them and Mona’s floor were all dedicated to apartments. However the top six floors were for your family.

Your parents had renovated the top six floors for their personal use, having a singular elevator to connect them to the rest of the building, that they really only used to be transported to the underground garage. They had installed another private elevator for personal family use, one that connected the top six floors to each other. None of the other building tenants had access to either of these elevators, the main elevator having been labelled as a service elevator so that they didn’t accidentally wind up somewhere they weren’t supposed to be.

Your mother had been insistent that you all live in the same building. Once you and your sisters had gotten older, they wanted to make sure you were never too far out of their reach, close enough that they could still be a short elevator ride away. Luckily, they didn’t force you to live with your sisters. That had been a compromise they agreed to. If you couldn’t move far away, you at least wanted privacy to do whatever you wanted, and they conceded; providing you and your other sisters with their own floors.

It was nice having your own place. They’d included so many amenities for you on your floor that sometimes you found yourself having spent days inside your own apartment without having ever left. You had almost everything you needed. A gym, a spa, a restaurant sized kitchen,  an office and a bedroom so large you could have fit five king beds inside with room to spare. All to yourself. Your sisters had the same, your parents wanting to make sure everyone had equal options. However they were all tailored and designed to your personal styles.

As you took the one floor ride up to your parent’s lower level, you wondered what could be so important that they called you in on a Sunday. Most of the times you only heard from your parents once or twice a week, to call a family meeting. But that was always during business hours. Never at 9:00PM on a weekend night. You had been hoping to get in one last workout before your nightly wind down before the hectic week you had ahead of you, but your parents had other plans, apparently.

Back then you had been acting as the head of communications for the front business. It was hard work running a nightclub industry, but your parents entrusted you to handle it almost solely on your own. You had had a few assistants to help with the bookkeeping and other management aspects. But other than that you were the sole head for communicating between all of the managers and management teams for the nightclubs across the city. You were in charge of getting and booking the talent for all of the different locations. For the most part you had helped in setting up regular entertainment for every night of the week, but occasionally you were tasked with bringing in outside performers to pique interest and sales.

You had been doing this ever since you turned eighteen, having felt in your father’s eyes that at that age you were old enough to no longer shadow him directly, and to start taking over one of the most essential parts of the business. He still called you in on important meetings with the top players in the trafficking business, but over the last nine years, you’d slowly worked your way up from just being an assistant to taking over as head of the fronting business. You were proud of the work you’d done, and your father was proud as well. He believed you’d been doing a fantastic job managing and overseeing all of the nightclubs you had scattered around the large city.

That was until you were greeted by a somber attitude as you stepped out of the elevator onto their first floor. You tried to make eye contact with the guards around you, but not a single one would look at you. They stood straight as rods, almost as if you had touched them, they would have broken under any amount of pressure.

You tried to say something to one of them, to inquire about where your parents possibly could be, but the one on your right spoke before you had the chance. "They're waiting upstairs for you in the dining room."

"Okay..." you deadpanned. You sighed to yourself, after realizing it was clear no one would actually give you any further information besides that. So you trudged your way up the stairs, your footsteps echoing against the large open space, to the family dining room. Your mother and father were facing you in the large space, both seated at the far end of the table.

"Please, Y/N," your mother prompted you, "Take a seat." She gestured to the seat across from her, the chair on your father's right hand side.

As you got nearer to them, the weight of the air became heavier on your lungs, and you found it hard to take a breath, wondering what in the world could make your parents so somber. “Is everything okay?” You ventured a question into the thickness in the room, hoping their response would be less burdensome.

“To be frank,” your father began.

“No,” your mother finished for him.

“As you know,” your mother continued, “your father has been seeing a doctor for quite some time for his health problems. And the doctor has advised that it is best for him to take a step back from the family business to focus on regaining his health. Otherwise the doctor believes he may outrun his due course in life, if he continues on like this.”

Your mind swam with the words you were hearing. “So why am I here?” you managed through the haze in your mind.

“Because,” your father paused to grasp your hand in his. “This means that you will have to take over in my absence. Your shadowing period is over. We called you up here to formally announce your promotion to head of the family business. We will hold a dinner for our partners in the upcoming months, but in the meantime and for the foreseeable future, you will now be in charge of all of the cocaine trafficking portions of the business. This also means that you alone will become the face of the family business. Mona will take care of your previous job; you have many other important things on your plate now. I know you will do well, my dear.”

You sink further into your seat, your headache slowly subsiding as the coffee works its magic on your body. Your anger at your sisters recedes knowing that someday they will have to be exposed to the true nature of the family business, to the true expanse of the works of your family. But, for now, you’re glad you can at least rely on them to run the front business properly.

As your mind wanders, and your eyes gaze longingly out into the real world, wondering what life would have been like had you been born into a regular family free from drugs and money, your phone chimes on your desk, two short rings one after the other. You grimace slightly, annoyed at the sudden interruption in your daydreaming, but a small smile forms on your lips as you read the messages that broke through your memories.

[Unknown 11:07am] Hey, Y/N. It’s Jungkook.

[Unknown 11:07am] The police officer.

You chuckle to yourself, picturing how flustered he must have been sending these messages. A bubble appears and disappears on the screen until another message pops up onto your screen.

[Unknown 11:09am] Would you maybe want to grab a drink sometime?

A laugh slips through your lips, genuine happiness in your smile as you imagine the guts it must have taken for him to send such a simple question. ‘The strong police officer is not so strong after all, it seems,’ you think to yourself. Your fingers glide over the screen as you send your response to him, adding his number in the process.

[Me 11:10am] Meet me at XX at 9, tonight. Don't be late.

feedback is always welcome! please feel free to leave some here!