#then he branched out and discovered an entire new genre that he never would have been allowed to listen to if he was still in japan

[pastelchad]

I know Takano is usually characterized as the emo boy and Onodera as the classical music fan but I think it's the other way around personally

[tasteleeknow]

FINDING YOUR INNER CHILD WITH SKZ

GENRE: fluff. fondness and affection galore. very self indulgent and comforting. WORD COUNT: 4.5k (500 each)

a/n: a little celebration of hitting 3k before the end of the year! i’m so grateful to everyone that reads my work, interacts with me and encourages me to keep trying. writing is really therapeutic to me and hearing other people can find comfort in my work makes me feel really warm. thank you!

CHAN — CLIMBING TREES

“Keeping going!” he calls out to you from below. He watches you as you wrap your arms around a thicker branch and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“I can’t, I’ll fall!” you shout back. 

You took early morning walks together often, whenever he’d had trouble sleeping and pulled an accidental all-nighter. You said it’d help wear him out a little, tucking him into bed when you got home with a kiss to his forehead. The tree climbing? This was new. You’d made an offhand comment about how nice it would be able to fly up over the treeline and see the sunset. He’d suggested climbing a tree and you’d scoffed like it was completely ridiculous. He’d quickly discovered you’d never even attempted it, not even as a child. 

“You won’t fall,” he encourages. “I’ll catch you if you do.” 

“Catch me?” you question, peeking an eye open. 

“Mm, I got you.” 

Your other eye opens and you look down at him, koala gripping to the branch. “Promise?” 

He smiles. “Yeah, baby. I promise.” 

He watches as you look up the tree then to your arms, an adorable look of determination crossing your face. Then you’re moving, pulling yourself up the thick branches as he moves around below you—making sure he’s under you the entire time. The first time you had shown you trusted him was months into your relationship. He knew it was difficult for you to trust someone completely. That’s why when you’d opened up to him about your lack of previous dating experience and how comfortable he made you, he’d written the moment down—making sure he’d remember it. 

“I can see it!” you shout suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “It’s so pretty! The sky is orange and pink!” He can just make out your face through the branches, your eyes bright with excitement. He smiles fondly, warmth blooming in his chest. 

“Yeah? Was it worth the climb?” 

“Come see!” you call. “You have to see it!” 

“Just get a good look for me, yeah? Describe it to me when you come down.” 

You pull your eyes from the sky, looking down at him again. “Come up, please?” 

“I promised I’d catch you. I can’t do that if I come up.” 

You’re quiet for a moment before pulling your hands from the branch you’re leaning against. Anxiety slams into his chest. “Hey! Don’t let go!” he calls. 

You make the shape of a camera with your fingers, pointing it out over the horizon and pretending to take a photo. Then you grip the branch again, beginning your slow descent. “Just taking a photo for you,” you say as you climb. 

When you reach the last branch he holds his arms open. “Jump,” he encourages. You don’t hesitate, trusting him to catch you.

MINHO — CAMPING

He’d insisted on spending his break over Christmas camping. He’d been fixated on the idea since you’d mentioned you’d never gone camping before. “Ever?!” he’d exclaimed, totally taken aback by your offhand comment. You’d laughed, pinching his cheeks between your fingers at his dramatic reaction. 

Now, here you are, your nose freezing off as you shuffle your camping chair as close to the fire as possible. It was completely ridiculous to be camping in this weather but your boyfriend had been so excited for so long, you couldn’t turn him down. He’d been rushing around the apartment all day yesterday, organising everything you’d need like you were planning a week away and not a weekend. 

He shuffles his chair closer to yours, reaching over to take your gloved hand in his. “You warm enough?” he asks, glasses falling down his nose a little. 

You reach over to push them up his nose, then pull his hat down his head a little more. “Mm,” you lie. “Are you?” 

He nods, taking your hand in his again and staring back into the fire. You smile as his eyes glaze over, zoning out again. You could handle a little cold. He’d put up with much more for your sake. It had taken months for you to open up to him, to let him in. He’d stuck around the whole time, patiently waiting for you to make the first move. Everyone around you kept reminding you of his feelings. It’s obvious, they’d say. You weren’t ready, you’d answer back. They didn’t understand the silent agreement between you. No one understood you like he did. You’d never forget his smile when you’d pulled him aside and asked him if he’d like to get dinner with you. “Finally,” he’d breathed.

The next time he snaps out of whatever he’s thinking about and checks in on you, you’re visibly shivering. He stands quickly, pushing his chair aside so he can kneel beside you. “Why didn’t you say you were cold?” he scolds, reaching up to cup your cheek in his gloved hand. 

“‘M not that cold,” you answer, unconvincingly. 

He frowns, standing and pulling you up with him. He practically shoves you into the tent. It was very different to how you imagined camping. He’d picked a place with large permanent tents, equipped with beds and electricity. Still, they weren’t much warmer than outside. Minho moves to the bed to plug in the electric heating pad and then darts back over to you. You stand still as he pulls your gloves from your fingers and then your hat. He struggles with the zip on your jacket in his rush to help you change. You’re quiet, shivering as he works. Just as he’s getting ready to personally pull your pyjamas over your head, you grab his arm. 

“I can do it.” 

He hesitates then hands you the flannel shirt before disappearing back outside. You listen to him shuffling around, packing things up and putting out the fire as you pull your pyjamas on quickly and shove your biggest sweater over your head. You dig out a pair of fluffy socks and pull them as far up your legs as you can as Minho re-enters the tent. 

“You should’ve said you were cold,” he grumbles again as he moves around you, shoving his hand under the blanket to check the heating pad before pulling his own clothes off. You climb into the bed, sighing a little at the warmth seeping into you from the warm mat beneath you. 

When your boyfriend joins you, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. When you shiver again he drapes a leg over you, practically smothering you with his body. You chuckle, pulling his arm up to your face and burying your face in the soft fabric of his sweater. 

“Were you planning on freezing to death, hm? What did I ever do to you?” he mumbles. 

“You broke my favourite mug.” 

You imagine him rolling his eyes. “So you were going to freeze yourself in protest? Leave me all alone?” 

You snuggle back into him, his hard body cushioned by layers of fabric. “I’m warm now.” 

“Promise?” he asks, warm breath tickling your neck. 

“Mm,” you sigh. “I like this part of camping.”

CHANGBIN — HAIR BRUSHING

It starts with his hand simply resting on your shoulder. You were curled up on the couch, your head resting in his lap. You’d been struggling to sleep recently and he’d insisted on putting a movie on and staying up with you. You’d considered faking it, pretending to doze off so you could convince him to go to bed. He couldn’t afford to lose any sleep. But you were incredibly selfish, enjoying his comforting touch too much to give it up. 

You hum when his fingers move up to your head, brushing your hair away from your face gently and then playing with the strands at your temple. You imagine this is something like what your cat feels when he’s purring in your lap. His gentle fingers pause after a few minutes and you reach up to snatch his wrist as he pulls away. “Don’t stop,” you whisper. “Please.” 

He chuckles, fingers returning to your hair. “Does it feel nice?” 

“So nice,” you hum. It reminds you of how your mum had played with your hair when you were small. It wasn’t a regular occurrence but it stood out amongst your childhood memories. Amongst the comforting ones anyway. 

You indulge in the feeling of his fingers brushing through your hair for a few minutes more, eyelids feeling heavier and the movie fading into background noise. “My mum brushed my hair sometimes,” you murmur. “When I couldn’t sleep.” 

He drops his feet from where they are propped up on the coffee table. “Where’s your brush?” he asks. 

“You don’t have to do it,” you say, lifting your head from his lap to look up at him. “Just a memory I was thinking about, that’s all.” 

He lifts you from his lap so he can stand. Stubborn, as always. “It’s under the bathroom sink,” you instruct, offering him a small grateful smile.

When he returns you’re sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch in preparation. He settles himself behind you, caging you in with his knees on either side of you. He lifts your hair, gently brushing any tangles from the ends before he begins brushing the entire length—bristles massaging your scalp with each stroke. You sigh, dropping your head back to rest against the couch cushion. It limits the areas he can work but you hardly care, letting him brush from your hairline back towards him. 

The movie is well and truly white noise now, all your attention on the gentle strokes your boyfriend makes and the fingers he’s begun brushing over your collarbones with his other hand. He taps a little as he goes, making a trail up your neck to your jaw. 

“Nice?” he whispers. 

All you can offer in this state is a slight blissful hum in return. His fingers move to your lips, brushing so lightly over your lips it tickles a little. Then he’s leaning down, legs jostling you just before his lips brush over yours. “Should we go to bed?” he whispers.

HYUNJIN — STARGAZING

“It’s kinda dark,” you say as your boyfriend pulls the huge bag he’d packed from the car. 

He shuts the car door then takes your hand in his. “Yes, that’s the point,” he says, a small puff of laughter leaving his lips. 

“Is it safe?” 

He gives you a small tug, encouraging you to follow him up the grassy slope. “It’s safe,” he assures you. “I used to come here all the time with my dad.” 

You were struggling to see the ground in front of you, amazed by how fast your boyfriend was moving despite the near pitch black darkness. “Yeah but… he’s big and scary.” 

Hyunjin laughs, finally coming to a stop on a flat patch of grass atop the small hill and dropping the large bag from his shoulder. “I can’t be scary?” he questions, pulling a large picnic rug from his bag and unfolding it. 

“No,” you answer easily, helping him lay the mat down onto the grass. You sit down quickly, kicking your shoes off to keep it clean. 

Something soft hits the side of your face just before your boyfriend joins you on the ground. You feel around, locating the pillow and placing it at the edge of the picnic rug so you can lie down. 

Your lips part as you look up. The sky… you were looking at it for the first time since stepping out of the car. You’d never seen so many stars in your life. You’d been driving for so long out of the city, it was clear now why. He’d clearly driven you far enough from the light pollution that a whole sea of stars that had been otherwise invisible to you were now shining bright. 

A blanket covers you suddenly and you pull it up to your chin just before your boyfriend drops back onto his own pillow beside you. You’re still quiet, eyes fixed on the glittering sky. 

“Pretty, right?” he says eventually, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him no warning before you pull him down on top of you. He laughs as you hold him tightly, planting his hands on the mat to keep some of his body weight off you. “Thank you,” you whisper before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

He rolls off you then snakes his arm under your head and pulls you up against his side so you can both look up at the stars. “I haven’t been here in years,” he says. 

“We should come here again.” 

He turns his head, lips brushing your hairline. “It’s not scary?” 

You drape your arm across his stomach, squeezing him slightly. “No,” you whisper. “Not with you.” 

“Oh, so I'm so unscary that I also just… repel anything else that might be?” 

“Mm,” you hum, smiling to yourself.

JISUNG — WATER FIGHTS

You pull the fan closer to the couch, making sure it’s directed at your face before falling back into the cushions with a groan. It was disgustingly hot, the hottest day of the year so far by a long way. It was a shame you and your boyfriend both had today off work and not the day before. It was too hot to do anything at all. 

“Baby! Come outside!” he calls through the open window. He’d been in the backyard for at least half an hour. Gardening, you assumed. Why he wanted to be outside in this weather, you had no idea. You were too hot to care. 

“Too hot,” you grumble, throwing your arm over your head. You imagine how you must look: like a Victorian maiden suffering from some vague illness. You huff out a laugh at the thought just as the backdoor swings open. 

Your boyfriend leans over you, a droplet of sweat rolling down his temple. “Come outside, please,” he asks, bottom lip pushed out into a pout. 

“Do you want me dead?” 

He grabs your hand, tugging at you. “Just come,” he whines. 

You groan. “Pull me up then.” 

He tugs properly, pulling you onto your feet and leading you outside. You rub at your eyes as he guides you and stumble over the step at the backdoor, relying on your boyfriend to keep you on your feet. He drops your hand once you’re steady, disappearing around the side of the house to leave you squinting in the bright sunlight. You watch a few dark clouds in the distance, hoping they were a sign of rain. Something hits your side then explodes at your feet. You yelp jumping onto the grass and looking up at your boyfriend. He’s holding a big metal bowl in his hand, the same one you used for your baking. Your eyes move to something colourful in his hand just as he pelts it at you. You duck your head, tucking it into your chest and shielding yourself with your arms. It bounces at your feet: a water balloon.  

You look up at him just as tosses another one. “Stop! It’s not fair if you hog them all!” you shout, moving towards him with your eyes pointed at the ground and one arm in front of you. 

He giggles, dodging your grasp as you reach for him. You watch him run across the yard, bowl full of water balloons tucked safely under his arm. You throw your head back, groaning. “It’s too hot to chase you,” you whine. 

“Check near the hose,” he calls. 

You turn to look down the side of the house, a bucket sitting next to the tangled garden hose. You trudge over to find it full of water balloons. No wonder he was out here so long, he’d filled and tied enough for you both. You pick up the bucket, resting it against your hip so you can dig balloons out with your other hand. When you reappear around the corner, a balloon narrowly misses your legs. 

You fish a big one out of the bucket and throw, laughing as it bursts directly onto his chest. 

He grins just as a rumble of thunder rolls across the sky. “You’re in for it now!” he yells. 

When you’re all out of balloons and the first droplets of rain fall from the sky he tackles you to the grass, hand cradling your head before it hits the ground. He hovers over you, hair sticking to his forehead.

“I haven’t had a water balloon fight since…I was 8 maybe,” you manage to get out between panting breaths. “I forgot they existed.” 

“Now we have to pick them all up,” he says, equally breathless. 

“I need to recharge first.” 

“Mm? You wanna just lie here for a bit?” 

“Kiss,” you prompt, lifting your head a little. 

He grins. “Oh, is that how you recharge?” 

You nod, wrapping your arms around him and pulling his lips to yours.

FELIX — THEME PARKS

“I’m not sure I can,” you mutter, looking up at the twists and turns of the towering rollercoaster. 

Your boyfriend places his hand on your back, rubbing gentle circles as he speaks. “You don’t have to. There’s other rides,” he says. 

“But this is my chance, I want to try at least once.” 

You’d only been to one other theme park in your life, when your grandparents had taken you as a child. You’d been too small to ride any of the rollercoasters then. Felix had seen the glint of regret in your eyes as you’d told him, deciding in that moment what you’d be doing that weekend. He watches you now, arms wrapped around your stomach in a defensive gesture. You were brave, he knew you’d refuse to give up until you’d worked up the courage. He hated seeing you afraid. 

“We can come back, anytime,” he says.

You suck in a deep breath then reach to take his hand. “No,” you say, determined. “Let’s go.” 

He lets you lead him to the queue, squeezing your hand periodically as you bounce your knee—a clear sign of your anxiety. He places his hand on your shoulder, directing your attention to him and away from the people boarding the ride at the front of the queue. “What do you want to do after?” he asks, offering you a small smile. 

“Um, I dunno. Whatever you want.” 

“Food? Are you hungry?” 

You shake your head, looking back to the front of the queue as the ride takes off. You’ll be on the next one. “Don’t have an appetite,” you answer.

“There’s fireworks later,” he says, attempting to get your attention again. It works. You snap your eyes to his, lighting up with excitement. He smiles, tugging you closer and wrapping his arms around you.

“Are there really?” 

He nods, struggling to keep the smile off his face at your wide eyed enthusiasm. “We can find a place right under them, so the ones that trickle down look like they’re coming right at us.” 

You jump a little in his arms, a small smile pulling your lips up at the corners. Then the ride attendant calls you forward. Your smile drops and he moves you aside so he can go first, settling into the seat and pulling the harness down over himself. He helps you pull yours down, taking your hand in his as soon as it’s free. “We don’t have to do it,” he reminds you, looking up to the ride attendant as he helps others into their seats. 

You shake your head. “It’ll be fine,” you say before looking to him for reassurance. “Right?” 

He squeezes your hand, smiling at you. “Of course it will. I’m right here.” 

You’re quiet until the top of the first slope, kicking your legs back and forth and keeping his hand grasped tightly in yours. Just before you tip over the edge you lean forward, making eye contact with him and offering him a bright smile. Then you’re both screaming, too focused on the dropping sensations in your stomachs and gripping the harnesses to check in with each other. 

When it’s over he reaches over to take your hand, your laughter evidence of your enjoyment. “Good?” he asks anyway, breathless from his own screaming. 

You squeeze his hand. “Let’s go again,” you exclaim, kicking your legs in excitement. 

He grins, taking in your blown out hair and bright smile. “Okay.”

SEUNGMIN — BIRTHDAY GIFTS

You were used to birthday’s passing without much fanfare. In fact, you preferred it that way at this point. It was your first birthday with your boyfriend and you hadn’t thought to say anything about it at all. That’s why, when you arrive home to find a large box with a big red bow on the top you pause—confused for a moment. Oh. Your birthday. 

You close the door gently and toe your shoes off, attempting to make as little noise as possible. Then the box moves. You snap your eyes to the large box, thinking perhaps you’d imagined it. It shakes again. 

“Seungmin!” you call, afraid to get any closer. 

He appears around the corner, looking like he’d just woken from sleep. Then, taking in your appearance at the door his eyes widen before dropping to the large box between you. He hurries towards you, wrapping you in a quick hug before pulling you closer to the present. “Happy birthday,” he says. 

“It moved.” 

His lips curve up. “That’s a good sign.”

“Why did you buy me a present?” 

He frowns. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because it’s not a big deal. It’s just…the day I was born. I don’t need anything.” 

“It’s a big deal to me. I’m very grateful for it,” he says before sighing. “Now would you open the giant box?” 

You huff out a breath of laughter at his impatience. “Alright, alright.” 

You take a hesitant step closer and then gingerly pull the ribbon loose, letting it fall down the sides and onto the floor. Your boyfriend presses his hand to your back, encouraging you to continue. You lift the flaps quickly, snatching your hands back to your body before anything inside can bite them off. Something bounces around inside and you lean over to find a tiny puppy attempting to climb up the cardboard walls. 

You feel like the breath is knocked from your lungs, leaning down quickly to snatch the tiny thing into your arms. Your eyes water embarrassingly fast and you look back up to your boyfriend. “What the fuck is this?” you ask, failing to keep the emotion from your voice. 

“A dog.” 

You take a step closer to him so you can shove him with your shoulder just before you burst into tears. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you and the tiny puppy. “You said you never had any pets as a kid,” he mumbles into your hair. “Thought you might like one. Got him from the shelter.” 

“I love him,” you sob. 

“And me?” he questions, pulling back to direct your eyes to his. He has that smile on his face. The one he used when you fell on your ass and he had to pull you to your feet and check you weren’t damaged. Teasing, and fond. 

“And you.”

JEONGIN — VIDEO GAMES

He’d been trying to invent some excuse to invite you over for a year. More than a year now. He’d only managed brief interactions with you since you’d moved into the apartment next door. They were enough that he wanted to know you more. 

He sucks in a deep breath before knocking, preparing himself for the thing he’d been putting off so long. You swing the door open with no warning, much quicker than he’d anticipated. 

“Um, hi,” is what he offers in greeting. 

“Hi, Jeongin,” you answer, a friendly smile on your lips. Don’t stare at her lips, he self chastises—dropping his eyes to the box in his hand instead. 

“I was at my parents house this weekend,” he begins, shuffling on his feet a little. “I found this old console. Most of the games are mutli player and I thought…maybe you’d like to try them with me?” 

It wasn’t a strong excuse. He could’ve asked a friend. Why would he ask his pretty neighbour he’d hardly spoken to. Your eyes drop to the box in his hands. “What console?” you ask, no judgement evident in your voice. He tilts the box towards you so you can see its contents. You take a quick step towards him and dig your hands into the box, lifting the white console from the tangle of wires. “Oh my god,” you exclaim. “I had a Wii as a kid! I have no idea where mine ended up.” 

He can’t keep the smile off his face. Well, this was going better than he thought. “I’m not sure where most of the games are,” he says. “I have Wii Sports and Mario Kart.” 

—

You laugh as he swings the controller around, failing in blocking your attack and watching as the little animated version of him topples off the tower. You were playing a game where the controllers acted like little lightsabers, and you were much better at it than he was. He couldn’t really care less, not when you’re laughing like you are. 

You drop to the floor as the game ends, controller resting on your stomach as you lie on your back. He joins you. “Did you play this a lot?” he asks. “As a kid.” 

You prop yourself up on your elbows to answer him. “Mm, was my sister's favourite. I’ve had years of practice,” you grin. 

“So I was setting myself up by asking you to play with me.” 

You laugh. “Do you regret it?” 

He shakes his head. “Not at all.” 

“I feel a bit silly,” you say, dropping your eyes from his. Your hair drops over your eyes and he resists the urge to lean over and brush it off your face. First day you’ve spent time together properly, he reminds himself. 

“Silly?” he questions. 

“I’ve…been working up the courage to ask you over for a while. I just thought… you would have asked if you were interested. It’s so easy now I’m here, I just feel silly for putting it off for so long.” 

He sits up straighter, dropping the controller onto the ground. “You—I mean you…wanted to ask me?” 

You nod. He laughs, falling flat on his back before turning to look at you. You have a little wrinkle between your eyes where your brows are pulled together in confusion. He wants to know you well enough that he could reach up and smooth it out. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” he asks. 

You offer him another pretty smile and his heart thumps hard in his chest. “Sure. As long as we can play another game.” 

“As many as you want,” he answers.

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Never have I ever everlark on the Zombie apocalypse 🧟🤭

Okay go with me on this one, because it's a little bat shit and out there and full of pseudo science and cheesy deux ex machina but here we go...

Extreme canon divergence.

Still with me? *cracks knuckles and gets to work*

Okay, so we know that tracker jackers are hive-minded. They somehow communicate and track their prey as a hive. We know this because Katniss hopes she can saw through the branch before the ones that sting her tell the rest of the hive about her. Not that it matters once she drops the nest on the Careers and Peeta but I digress. There's also the moment right before the fabled sewer kiss, when Peeta tells her something like "Leave me. Before I turn mutt like them," (paraphrasing) in reference to the lizard mutts... which opens the door to my concept.

What if Peeta wasn't talking in generalities but literally means that his mind is somehow tied to the mutts in the sewer? So, we diverge before that.

Hijacking has never been done successfully before, so the progress on Peeta Mellark's conditioning is carefully tracked and followed. An entire team of scientists working on the project. One ambitious scientist notices that in playing around with genetic alterations along with the fear conditioning, they've managed to alter Peeta's brain chemistry. He quietly takes his findings to another part of the lab and tries to recreate and expand upon this interesting muttation. He uses brain eating amoeba to deliver the new gene sequencing. This is how our zombies are formed in this au. Hive minded, engineered to be weapons that murder with their bare hands and can, with enough bites on their victim, transfer the contagion, creating more zombies.

Of course, at some point, several of the experiments break containment and chaos reigns in the Capitol. Snow escapes with his granddaughter and absconds to his bunker somewhere in District Two. A few of the guards at the prison have the brilliant idea of using the three victors they're in charge of as bait so they can escape the descending horde of brain eating muttations. It backfires. Johanna goes axe murderer supreme on the guards and on the zombies. Annie is mid meltdown and Peeta is dazed and confused, until one of them goes after Annie. He manages to protect her long enough for her to escape and protect him in return, and the three of them make a run for it.

On the other side of Panem, deep inside District 13, Katniss and Finnick watch the horror unfold onscreen as the Capitol tears itself apart in panic. Coin is, of course thrilled. They just have to contain the threat inside the Capitol and let the city burn itself to the ground. Of course, you can bet your boots that Katniss and Finnick aren't going to sit there and wait to find out if their loved ones have survived. They manage a poorly planned escape on a hovercraft and somehow have way too many allies for what is supposed to be a stealth mission.

The story would follow the two separate groups as one flees for their lives and the other barrels into danger, searching for Annie and Peeta. Half hijacked and confused, Peeta starts to mistake what happened with him and Annie during the escape means something. She's trying to keep him at arms length, but everything looks so bleak where they are, it becomes difficult not to lean on him.

Eventually, of course, the Katniss et al group discovers just how out of their depth they are with these things when they lose one of the Leeg twins, and Boggs... Right before the escaped victors stumble across them and manage to get them out of danger... temporarily.

Finnick and Annie have their joyful reunion. Peeta's confused by what's going on here. Katniss flings herself at him, and is coldly rebuffed. Oh wait you thought this was a happy ending? Mwahahahahaha. Your mistake.

So now the group needs to get out of the Capitol, and their hovercraft is too damaged to fly them out (obviously because that's how this genre works, duh), which means they have to make it past the zombies and through Coin's perimeters. Oh and she's not letting ANYONE out of the Capitol, even if they're not infected.

At some point, hijacked Peeta will come out to play. At another point, Finnick will be bitten as he heroically saves Katniss and the rest of the group. I haven't decided yet Katniss mercy kills him ala Nightlock Nightlock Nightlock, or if he manages to survive but now the group shifts it's focus from "Get the hell out of this city" to figuring out a cure. There would absolutely be some version of the unhijacking/Everlark sewer kiss with Peeta insisting that Katniss kill him. And just for funsies, they discover that Peeta somehow has a vaguely sympathetic link to the zombie horde, which is both an asset and dangerous af to their group.

How would I end this monstrosity? Option A: it conveniently turns out the brain eating amoeba thing means the zombies die within a certain window so Coin's containment thing actually works. This presents a problem when forming a new government because what she did saved a lot of people... but it also left a whole lot of people dead. Vaguely sinister ending as Katniss and company consider the ramifications of Coin in power. Option B: Cliffhanger ending when it seems like all hope is lost because Snow isn't dead and why not. idk this genre is clearly not my forte okay????

<3 kdnfb

Never Have I Ever

[sailoryooons]

Happy Agust, Hali 💕

Because Mixtape!Yoongi has been living RENT FREE in my mind for the last week, can I please request a fluffy drabble where Yoongi befriends and/or adopts a cat 👀 ? I’m pushing the cat dad agenda here… 😏

Thank youuuu 💕

YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT. Thank you for being so patient with me bby you literally were on the list of had to do because you know I'm obsessed with the idea and finally, we revisit our favorite Mixtape couple and Cat Dad Yoongi.

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi can't stop thinking about the white cat he spotted alone and in the cold. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 3,915

❀ Genre: Older brothers best friend, f2l, a lil' angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Yoongi Cat Dad Agenda, long hair Yoongi yes this is a warning, literally fluff and an excuse to give Yoongi a cat

❀ Published: 3,915

❀ A/N: This is a part of the Mixtape series as an extra chapter. You can 100% read this as a standalone, though you might enjoy it a tiny bit more having read Mixtape!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Series Masterlist | Extra Chapter 2

Bright sun beats down on your back, warming your chilled skin through the softness of your sweater. You pause lifting boxes for a moment, content to stand in the shaft of light and close your eyes, head tilted toward the source of your brief hiatus from the cold.

Wind skitters down the road and you shiver. Eyes fluttering open in time to see Yoongi coming out of the apartment lobby, rubbing his hands together for warmth. A beanie is pulled down low over his long, black hair – long enough that you’ve threatened him within an inch of his life if it cuts it – and a long-sleeve shirt that’s two sizes too big.

“What are you doing?” he asks, gesturing to where you stand motionless in the sun, box in hand. “You know you can’t photosynthesize, right?

You pout. “You don’t know that. Maybe I’m a plant.”

He hums as he passes you, hand absently touching your elbow as he does. Yoongi ducks into the trunk of the car, pulling out the last box. “Perhaps you’re right. Quiet, soaking up the sun, will die if not given attention.”

“Hey that last one isn’t true!”

The trunk snaps shut, Yoongi grinning at his little joke as he lifts the box. “It is a little.”

Maybe Yoongi has a point.

There was a time when you never dreamed of demanding attention from Min Yoongi. Most of your early life had been spent trying to stay out of his way until that fateful day in the piano room. After that, you co-existed on the edge of one another’s lives. His attention had been something you craved but never went out of your way to receive.

Thinking about your thirteen-year-old self writing about having a crush on Min Yoongi in her diary makes you smile. She had no idea one day everything would make sense. That you would come into synced orbits, and that you’d move in with him at the peak of his career, and a positive shift in yours.

Both of you adjust grips on your boxes and head toward the apartment lobby door to make your final carrying trip up to your new apartment. It’s deep in downtown near Yoongi’s new studio that he bought and opened himself to extend the branch of the label he works under, and it has the perfect large space for your new work at home office.

Best of all, it overlooks the entire city. At night, it looks like the stars have drifted from the heavens to float among the mortals, moving among the dreams and the lives of thousands.

Yoongi pulls up short before opening the door to the lobby, making a soft sound of surprise. You glance at him to see his gaze fixated near the northeast corner of the building where 77th North Street meets 4th Avenue.

At first, you see cars at a stop light. The winter-frosted glass of the coffee shop and dance studio across the street. The bikers bundled in puffer jackets, beanies pulled low over their ears.

Movement catches your eyes lower. You find the object of Yoongi’s attention- a small, white cat with its head cocked, blue eyes fixed on the pair of you.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, kitty.” It meows in response, making the side of your mouth twitch. “Cute.”

Yoongi looks up at the stretch of windows above your apartment building. “I wonder if it has an owner? I don’t see a collar. It’s kind of cold out here.”

“Unsure. Pretty cat, though.”

Yoongi hums, eyes drifting back to the cat. For a moment, you admire the way the cold turns Yoongi’s face pink. He flushes easily, but even more so during winter. He doesn’t notice your slow smile as you watch him and he watches the cat.

With a shrug of his shoulders and a quick shuffle of his box, Yoongi pulls the door open to the hotel lobby. “I’m sure it has an owner. I’ll let the lobby manager know there’s a cat outside, though.”

You smile at him as you pass. He doesn’t notice, eyes drifting back to the cat watching you one more time before letting the tinted, glass door shut. “Okay.” He makes his way to the counter as you move to the elevator. “Don’t take too long. I’m starving.”

Inside the new apartment is warm. It smells like the crisp, citrus candle flickering on the granite countertop. Boxes are stacked neatly in corresponding rooms, marked with your neat handwriting and Yoongi’s slanted scribble.

All of the furniture is already placed and put together. The movers had done most of the work the day before and Yoongi had spent most of the evening into the late night putting everything together, the whine of the drill backtracked by his curses and hisses when something didn’t mesh right.

Every part of the home – and it does already feel like home – is splashed with the watercolors of your shared life. The living room is muted neutrals, the pillows soft and worn from the nights of falling asleep on the couch and the throw blanket frayed at the edges from Yoongi’s sleepy feet stepping on the hem while wearing it like a cape around his old apartment.

There are three bedrooms, one of which now has a desk for you to work at on one side and the other with a massive slab of desk, shelving, and tangled wires for Yoongi’s little home studio. The master and the office both have large windows facing the city, letting in the bright winter light during the day and the glow of the city at night.

You check the writing on the box in your arms. Books is scribbled in Yoongi’s slanted writing, explaining why it’s so heavy. You shuffle to the guest bedroom where Yoongi has lined either side of the bed with tall bookshelves and deposit the box in front of the empty shelf.

Dusting your hands, you walk back to the kitchen, covered in a combination of folded cardboard, paper towel rolls, power tools, and wrapped glassware. You start unwrapping the glasses, sliding them in neat rows in the cabinet.

Yoongi doesn’t return right away. You lose yourself in the rhythm of organizing, crumbling the wrapping paper, and shoving it into the trash. When your stomach growls, you look up at the clock and realize that it’s been twenty minutes and Yoongi still hasn’t come upstairs.

You frown and move to your phone. Just as you swipe the screen to call, the front door opens and your boyfriend comes in. His nose and cheeks are frozen pink, and his hands are a little discolored from the cold outside and the grip he has on the box.

He sets it down by the door, too tired to carry it in as the door clicks shut behind him and he straightens, huffing a bit.

“Everything okay?” you ask, brows raised.

“Yeah.” He’s a touch out of breath. “The lobby manager said he doesn’t know anyone who has a missing cat and doesn’t have anyone having a white cat on file. But people bring in pets and don’t tell the apartment all the time so I went out to take a picture and post to that community page on our rent portal in case someone doesn’t know it’s missing.”

Yoongi flexes his cold fingers. You hold your hands out to him and he immediately responds, drifting to you like a magnet. His hands are ice cold when you take them in yours, rubbing them to create heat and friction.

Once Yoongi’s hands have a little more color and warmth, you kiss the back of his right hand briefly before drifting to the fridge. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Sushi?”

You hum in agreement, hands searching for the plastic box you had picked up earlier. Yoongi leans on the counter behind you as you pull out soy sauce and the spicy mayo, sitting it next to you.

“You think he’ll be okay?”

“Hmmm?”

“The cat,” Yoongi clarifies. You close the fridge and turn to face him. His arms are crossed over his chest, sleeves pulled down over his hands. His gaze is focused on the floor, lost in thought as he chews his lip lightly. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

A smile creeps on your face as you soften at the edges. Yoongi looks up at you as you wrap your arms around his middle. He’s still a little cool from being outside again, but the warmth that the smell of sandalwood and his arms returning the hug chase away the cold.

“I’m sure he will be. We’ll keep an eye on it, yeah?”

You tuck yourself into Yoongi’s neck, closing your eyes. You feel him nod and hum in response. His hands play with the hem of your shirt and you sigh, melting into him. You slot perfectly against him, a puzzle piece finding its home after years of almosts and what ifs.

Yoongi’s stomach growls and you both laugh. You peel away from him and press a soft kiss to his mouth, sweet and pink. “Let’s eat.”

-

Something light washes across the darkness of your dreams. You sigh and squirm deeper into the pillow, willing to sink back into a comfortable sleep.

But the glow somewhere – a little beyond your sleep – is distracting. You hear tapping next to you and you grumble. The bed is cold, the windows cracked at Yoongi’s request. Eyes closed, you seek his warmth, hands following the soft dip in the bed next to you until your hands come into contact with bare skin.

“Ah,” Yoongi hisses. “Cold.”

His voice pulls you the rest of the way from your seep. Heavy eyes blink open, flinching at the bright, white light splitting the darkness. His phone is held near his face, casting him in an eerie glow with squinted eyes.

“What are you doing?” you croak, voice scratchy and deep. You close your eyes to hide from the light of the phone, but scoot closer to him anyway. Only Yoongi could sleep shirtless with the window cracked in a freezing apartment. “What time is it?”

“Three.”

“What, your emails couldn’t wait?”

“Oh I’m not emailing.” He lets you suck the warmth from his skin as you bury your face in his neck and angle it towards his pillow, finally muting the light. His heart thrums under your arm as you wrap yourself around him, squeezing. “I was checking to see if anyone claimed the cat yet.”

You pause, momentarily confused. Oh. The white cat. “Oh.”

“No one has yet.”

“Hmm, well I doubt anyone is going to at three in the morning, Yoons.”

He sighs. The phone light vanishes entirely and he reaches to set it on the nightstand, temporarily dislodging you. Yoongi settles in again, turning toward you slightly and wrapping his arms around you in return. You can’t help but smile as he sighs, warm breath hitting your brow.

“You’re probably right.”

“We can check on kitty in the morning.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel him nod. “Okay. Night, sweet girl.”

“Mmm. Night.”

-

An empty bed greets you when you wake up again early in the morning. Your muscles pull tight as you stretch, a strained sound escaping your lips as you look around the room for any sign of Yoongi. The light coming through the white slats in the blinds is dark grey and the clock on the nightstand shows that it’s a little past seven in the morning.

Slowly, you sit up, your body in a momentary state of grogginess. The master bathroom door is open with the light turned off, but you can see the light from the living room and kitchen area on underneath the bathroom door.

Peeling off the blankets, you hurry across the room to shut the window, rubbing your hands together and going in search of Yoongi.

Coffee wafts from the kitchen. There’s only a single lamp in the living room on paired with the light over the stove, casting the apartment in shadows and gentle light. Yoongi is curled on the couch, feet tucked under him and his favorite blanket wrapped around him as he looks at his phone.

For a moment, you stop and stare at him. His hair is messy and sticking up in places. It’s long enough that it reaches his shoulders these days, flipping outward when he air dries it or from being tucked underneath a beanie. His face is puffy with sleep, the hand not holding his phone wrapped around a still-steaming cup of coffee.

“Hi,” you murmur, drawing his attention from his phone. He smiles at you, full gums on display and eyes crinkling. Your heart flips – it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together now. Being the object of Yoongi’s affection still knocks the wind out of you after wanting it for so long. “It’s early.”

He hums but clicks the phone off and unfolds the blanket, holding it open like a bat wing for you to slot yourself into. You hurry over, snuggling into his side eagerly. He’s still shirtless, skin like a natural heater as you press against him. He wraps the wing around you, keeping the heat in as you settle.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, just naturally woke up. Noticed you were gone though so I came looking.”

“Hmm. Couldn’t sleep.”

You crane your neck to look at him.

Yoongi’s dark eyes are fixated on the window. They’re frosty with mist, the cool air outside at war with the hotter air of the apartment. His lips are a little chapped like he’s been biting them all morning and his eyes are unfocused, the kind of look when he’s thinking about new music or trying to remember something.

A small crease forms on his brow. You tentatively lift a hand, slipping it through the hole in your blanket wrap to brush the tips of your fingers along the shape of his jaw. Long lashes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of skin against skin.

“What’s wrong?” you ask the question so softly you think he doesn’t hear you. Your hand slips to the hair framing his face, brushing the dark strands back. “Yoons?”

“I’m worried about the cat.”

Yoongi’s words come out like an admission of guilt. His mouth pouts slightly and he chews on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t open his eyes, but the dip of his brows increases as his expression melts into a frown.

“You have to give people time.”

“I’m just worried. It’s cold.”

You examine him. Even the calming strokes of your hand in his hair don’t chase away the frown. You remember all of the times that your touch could soothe him. You remember the way you first ran your hands through his hair like this, long ago at the Park cabin on a vacation you’ll never forget.

“What do you want to do, baby?” He opens his eyes, a question in them. You smile. “You obviously want to do something. What is it?”

He chews on his lip and you prod his mouth. He’s a little bashful as he lets the abused flesh go. “I may have… ordered some things.”

“Oh?”

“You know, to like… keep it here while we wait for an owner to come forward.”

“Uh-huh. What things?”

“Food. Bowls. Some toys.”

You grin. Your soft, sweet boyfriend can’t help himself. He’s the same way with people – buying things he sees people needing. Wordlessly putting gluten-free bread in the pantry for Jimin (and guarding when Taehyung tries to steal it). Buying a new wireless headset for Ren so she can join Jungkook when he streams. Sending Seokjin a stack of recipes Yoongi’s family cook has finally agreed to divulge.

Yoongi speaks in a silent language of love, and it makes you lean forward to press a sold kiss to his jaw before pulling away to get up.

“Where are you going?” He’s wide-eyed and soft when he looks up at you as you stand and stretch.

“Get dressed. Let’s go get your cat.”

-

It takes twenty minutes in the blistering morning cold, a couple of curses and hopeless looks from Yoongi, and constant encouragement from you before you find the cat in the parking garage under someone’s tire.

Yoongi immediately gets on his knees, staining his sweatpants as he tucks his head under the wheel well, looking up and speaking softly to the cat in question. You watch, shivering in the shade and arms crossed over your chest for another ten minutes before Yoongi slips his hands upward, only retreating when he has a dirty, white-coated cat with blue eyes in his hands.

You offer Yoongi the blanket that you’re clutching – Yoongi’s favorite, as he insisted. The cat is latched onto Yoongi’s shirt, your lips twitching in a soft smile. Yoongi whispers to the feline, head ducked down as you approach.

The cat turns its attention to you, eyes going narrow as it hisses. You hesitate when you lift the blanket, looking at the curve claws that snag in Yoongi’s shirt and the rigid line of hair running up its spine. Yoongi hushes the creature and nods at you.

Carefully, under the suspicious gaze of the cat, you wrap it in a blanket, sliding the material under Yoongi’s grip until he has a bundle, a white little face peering back at him from a checkered blanket. It’s cute, pulling lightly at your heartstrings.

Inside your apartment, Yoongi goes straight to the couch, the bundle in his arms as he murmurs to the cat in question. You watch wordlessly from the kitchen, a smile still on your face as he tucks the cat into his lap, his long hair hiding his face as he carefully unwraps the blanket.

The cat does not move from his lap. Instead, it curls up, blinking its eyes at Yoongi. You hear him laugh, just a soft breath of sound as he scratches between its dirty ears.

“We’ll just keep you until your owners realize your missing,” Yoongi says as you fill a bowl of water. “I think you need a little bit of a bath, hmm?”

You place the bowl of water near the couch, straightening to see a pair of blue eyes trained on you. You offer the cat a nervous smile. “Pretty.”

“Do you want to pet him?”

“How do you know it’s a him?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I might be wrong.”

Tentatively you sit down and hold out a hand. The cat stares at you warily before taking a few suspect sniffs. When it decides you’re acceptable, it rubs its shin on your fingers tentatively, closing its eyes.

“Just until the owners find it?” you ask cryptically.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi’s eyes never stray from the feline.

-

Week one you put up ‘cat found posters.’

There is a bed and a handful of toys in the living room. The white cat is clean after a yowling, hissing and screaming bathtub experience. You walk through the living room, peering at where Yoongi sleeps on the couch. His hair covers his face, lips parted lightly.

And at the foot of the couch is the cat, curled into a donut with its head resting on top of Yoongi’s foot.

-

Week two you trip over a cat toy and scowl. Sensing your irritation, said cat appears around the corner, winding between your legs and rubbing himself on your calves. You sigh, the irritation bleeding out of you as you bend down and offer a hand. He nuzzles you, purring briefly before rushing off.

You hear Yoongi greet the cat in the office and shake your head, though you smile a little bit.

-

“Can we take Sugar to the vet? I want to make sure he’s a he and that he’s got… whatever shots cats need.” You look up, pausing with a mouthful of toast. Yoongi is hovering near the kitchen, looking over at the cat that is kneading its bed. “I just want to make sure we keep him healthy?”

“Sure-“ You cock your head. “Did you just call the cat Sugar?” Yoongi blushes. You swallow the toast and cough a little, having swallowed too quickly. Yoongi is fast to grab you a glass of water which you take with a grateful glance. “You named him?”

“He looks like a jar of sugar.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it felt weird to keep saying ‘it’ and ‘the cat’ and not having a name.”

“Right.”

“And he’s very sweet.”

“This is true.”

Yoongi’s eyes are soft and round when he looks at you. Your heart melts a little, seeing that gentle flicker in his eyes. You don’t put a name to that look, that little gleam that you know it’s there. You don’t want to jinx it, to give it a name to have it taken away.

Instead, you take another gulp of water. “Let’s make an appointment.”

-

Week four, no one has claimed Sugar, but Sugar has claimed more space and more toys in your home. A new bag of cat food is on the counter along with a jar of catnip. There is now a basket for Sugar to contain his toys. And a pretty black collar with a little jar and a name.

And a doting Yoongi who walks across the living room with his phone tucked into his shoulder on a business call, carrying the growing-plump feline with him in his arms. He heads towards you, listening to the other voice on the line. He gestures to the fridge, hands full of Sugar.

You push off the counter pulling open the fridge and removing the bottle of Gatorade your boyfriend nods at. You crack the top and a grin spreads across his face. The smile grows when you pull a straw out of the drawer, plop it in and wedge the drink into one of Yoongi’s hands.

Sugar hisses at the disturbance, rolling his head to look at you defiantly.

Yoongi tuts at the cat. “Don’t hiss at mommy.”

Both yours and Yoongi’s attention snaps to one another. Your stomach flips at the term of endearment. It’s just a cat, but Yoongi’s slip – the assignment of a role in the creature’s life, an implication that… he wants to keep the cat too is there.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says absently. He looks at you when he says it, but addresses the person on the phone. “The cat was hissing at my girlfriend.”

There’s laughter on the other line. You open your hands and Yoongi nods, passing Sugar to you. Sugar likes Yoongi more, but he doesn’t mind you either. He rubs his head into the crook of your elbow as Yoongi starts talking about a soundboard that you know nothing about.

“Let daddy work,” you tell Sugar, giving Yoongi a devious grin. He pauses, midsentence, phone pressed to his ears, eyes dark. “How about we watch Sailor Moon, Sugar?”

-

Week five the ‘cat found’ posters come down.

“Yeah, his name is Sugar,” you tell Jungkook on the phone, crumbling the sheets of paper. Jungkook squeals on the other side of the line. “Do you guys want to come up and see him next weekend?”

-

Week thirty-three, Sugar sleeps between you and Yoongi on the couch, purring lightly as you drift to sleep, head propped on Yoongi’s shoulder as the credits to Naruto roll.

[idolsummons]

I've started very, very slowly putting information together for my new about pages (Hana and every side muse - except the non-canon Vh'thra personification - will have one) and I finished Ren's bio and I think I'm happy with it which means everyone has to look.

Trigger warnings for self-harm and suicide.

     Ren Ishikawa was born in Japan on 26 March 199x to loving parents who, after so many years of trying and hoping and praying - years of pain and loss and trying again - had finally brought a beautiful baby boy into this world, who loved him and wished only to give him the best in life.

     As the years went by, Ren was loved by his parents and felt just as loved, willing to give as much back as the child could. 

     Growing up was rather unremarkable for Ren, not to say that it was at all a bad thing; he had loving parents, enough friends so he never felt too lonely and his grades in school were slightly above average, though excelled in the artistic subjects. He was never bullied and people typically had nothing but nice things to say about him.

     It was first suggested that Ren pick up an instrument at the age of eight, and he was immediately drawn to the electric bass. An instrument that’s easy to learn and hard to master (made more difficult with his small hands when first picking up the instrument, but something which would get easier with time), as the years by ren found himself improving and branching into other instruments, including electric guitar and keyboard, and joining his high school’s music club and jazz ensemble, both Ren and his skills beloved by all like-minded creatives.

     He was having so much fun and the time of his life until he simply wasn’t.

     One day Ren, age 16, just found it more difficult to practice any of the instruments he’d been playing for years. Neither they nor the ensembles he was a part of brought him the same kind of excitement they once had, and such a realisation made him feel worse until it began festering in his mind. He found little point in getting up and had to be forced to do so much as get up for school in the morning. His attendance and grades dropped as weeks and months went by, and the thoughts got darker and darker.

     This change in behaviour, of course, did not go unnoticed by his parents. They tried to talk to him and ask if anything was wrong, but they were always met with Ren insisting he was fine and just wanted to be left alone.

     Behind the facade was a much different story.

     Ren had started cutting in a futile attempt to hide his emotional pain behind physical pain, though the act simply made him feel ashamed later, and thus got caught in this cycle of self-harm. Feeling only worse and worse, he began withdrawing almost entirely, to the point where his mother had to come into his room and beg him to join her and his father for dinner.

     It was one of those nights during this new routine that his mother will never forget, and which Ren will always feel ashamed for having caused his mother to experience.

     His mother was making her way to his room in an attempt to have Ren join them for dinner, as she now did every night. With no response she entered anyway, only to find her beloved son on the floor, bleeding out with a large slice across his neck, the offending weapon only inches from his hand.

     He was lucky, in the doctor’s words, to survive the ordeal.

     Ren was diagnosed with major depressive disorder by the mental health professional while recovering in hospital, and since that day he has been taking medication for his mental illness and regularly sees a psychologist, though the results are mixed.

      It was in the days and weeks after this attempt, still recovering from his attempt (and, admittedly, too ashamed to go to school with stitches on display), that he discovered future funk, a genre the fusion of electronic music (of which Ren was already a fan) and genres such as funk and city pop. He immediately fell in love and, although it was no cure for his newfound depression, renewed his outlook (however slightly) and saw his passions for music come back.

     Since that day, Ren had started learning about producing his own music and began investing in equipment for his own makeshift “home studio” (which is difficult when you’re a jobless teen living at home) and began attempting to create his own music.

     Though his earlier attempts at creating music could be described as cute, Ren has made leaps and bounds since then. Online he goes by the moniker second encore, a name often associated with the genre of future funk. Though he is a far way from being able to make a living on his music alone (working a day job as a barista at a local cafe), Ren often plays at clubs and events; playing in front of an energetic crowd makes him forget all his inner turmoil if only for a few hours, filling him with vigour and adrenaline.

     Ren is a man of many musical interests, though finds himself drawn to that which is more upbeat and optimistic. He didn’t need to look far to find the idol Miyu, who has been played on radio stations consistently since her debut. He instantly fell in love with her J-pop tunes and began following her career; though he can’t make it to any of her concerts, he never misses an album or a single.

     When he discovered the idol’s stream, the nervous Ren - under his musical moniker - dared to send through a donation, halfheartedly inviting her to collaborate some time. Of course he didn’t think anything of it; it was enough just to hear her say, “Thank you so much for the donation, second encore!” (not to mention the people who were excited to find out that second encore was a fan of Miyu), but when he received a message some days later from the very same idol saying she’d be interested in meeting up - well, ecstatic would only begin to describe how he felt.

Since their meeting, Ren and Hana have become good friends and often collaborate on Ren’s tracks together (though Hana uses the alias HM02, given the work is not official for the idol). He does not dare reveal his mental turmoil to Hana (nor anyone other than his parents or psychologist) out of fear of being ridiculed or otherwise viewed differently, and though her presence is certainly not a cure for his depression, Ren finds himself feeling a little less disenchanted with the world when she’s around.

[lubdubsworld]

⋆⋆✵ Perfect Imperfections ✵⋆⋆

Chapter 1

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so )

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism .

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

No one tells you how easy it is to imagine yourself in love with a beautiful man. Especially when you don’t have a clear understanding of what love actually is. 

When I met Jungkook, even knowing he was in love with my sister hadn’t done much to douse the flames of hope and attraction. He was a lot of things that other men in my life weren’t. Kind without being pitying. Concerned without being overbearing. He took care of me without making me feel helpless. And there was always such a thin line between these things that I found myself impressed by his ability to toe the line so well.

Jungkook took care of me without making me feel like a burden and I suppose, some part of me had assumed that this could, in due time turn into love. But I was clearly wrong.

Jungkook and Liza had been kissing in the hallway of their hotel room and someone had taken pictures. My father and his had managed to get them taken down but the news was already out, spreading like wildfire . My phone began ringing sometime around eight in the morning and hadn’t stopped. It was now a little past one in the afternoon and I felt queasy, despite the assurances that it was all being taken care of.

It was the pity in everyone’s face that I couldn’t bear.

I wasn’t hurt. Angry, yes? Upset? Of course. But I wasn’t hurt because there really was nothing to be hurt about. Jungkook didn’t love me. He was in love with my sister . He had made it clear, through his words and his actions, over and over again. At this point, I could see this debacle as nothing more than a possible way to get out of the marriage. Perhaps, my father would approve of a divorce?

I glanced at the article again.

The photo is just so annoyingly clear, I thought with a grimace. If it was a little blurry, I could convince myself it wasn’t him and her. But it was clear. That was my husband with his lips locked with my sister’s. Against my better judgment, I read the article again. It was a gossip column, of course there would be nothing good in there. But sometimes curiosity can be a persistent thing.

I felt my skin crawling as I realized that the phrases were all pretty true. There was no gossip here. Just plain facts.

And then my eyes reached the end of the article.

Of note is the fact that Jeon Jungkook’s wife is disabled and perhaps the virile young man is merely looking for pleasure he can’t find in his own marital bed.

I swallowed, quickly exiting the page and tossing the phone on the bed, away from me. I stared out of the window of our bedroom, the large doors left open to let air and sunlight in. There was a tall sycamore tree right outside out bedroom and the branches almost reached in and I stared at the rustling leaves, trying to scrub my mind clean of the words I’d just read.

But it was impossible.

It wasn’t something I hadn’t thought of. The stark difference between me and Jungkook, physically. He spent five days a week in the gym and they were right. He was a young man with healthy sexual appetites.

I’d never cheat on you. Jungkook’s voice from a week ago still echoed somewhere inside my skull.

I sighed, playing with my wedding ring.

I wasn’t a virgin when I married Jungkook. Hadn’t been one , when I got into the accident either. My then boyfriend, a tall strapping lit major had been a very sexual guy as well and our libidos had matched pretty well. But I’d been an athletic nineteen year old, able to bend like a pretzel at his whim and there was just endless time and endless stamina and just a whole lot of attraction . We had spent hours, exploring each other the way college kids do. Weekends in bed spent trying every possible permutation of sex positions and kinks and I’d discovered all the things I liked. All the things I didn’t.

But then the accident had happened and well, when you’re in crippling agony, sometimes sex takes the backseat. I’d been focused on my recovery, on making sure that I came out of this at least with the ability to walk and I’d succeeded. Burying the part of me that craved a man’s touch, it wasn’t easy but it was necessary.

And then Jungkook had happened.

Sex with Jungkook hadn’t been difficult. Not really. I wasn’t completely crippled after all but it was also nowhere near as exciting as it could be with someone who had full use of her legs. I knew that. It was kind of obvious. But I hadn’t dwelt too much on it because to be honest, Jungkook hadn’t looked like he’d minded. He had seemed to enjoy himself .

But then reading about how he probably hadn’t enjoyed it definitely stung.

Worse yet, probably half the country was reading it with me. I felt nauseous. Did no one think that they should have left the last part out of that article? It was terrible enough without adding that bit about me.

A faint buzzing made me turn to the bed.

I glanced at my phone as it rang, my father in law’s name prominent on the screen.

Showtime, I thought with a grimace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I suppose it was too much to hope for , expecting that boy  to keep his dignity. This is outrageous.” Mr. Jeon’s loud voice rang through the foyer of the house and I flinched, gripping the edge of the futon as Sana jumped a bit . She sat next to me, holding my hand carefully. Moral support I supposed but I was feeling entirely too blasé about the whole thing. None of this was unexpected, I thought miserably and I wasn’t feeling up to pretending otherwise.

“I still wish they’d talked to me about this.”

My brother in law’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. The man looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back and I felt a pang of genuine sympathy. He looked wrecked and it was obvious she was in love with my sister. Resentment coiled thick and deep inside me. Resentment and envy.

With no effort at all she had charmed both the Jeon brothers, I thought bitterly.

Jeon Jihyun looked absolutely stricken at the thought of losing his wife.  

“I’ve asked Lisa to take the first flight out. She called me this morning, hysterical. It was something done in the heat of the moment. She .. She’s very apologetic. I believe her and I’m willing to forgive her. We’re…. We’re thinking of starting a family together. ” He said softly and my stomach turned.

I felt my skin go ice cold as I wrapped my arms around myself. Shivering just a bit, I lightly squeezed Sana’s hand. She looked at me in askance and I had to swallow to get my voice out, throat dry. The words made me want to retch. I could imagine how Jungkook would take this news.

“Can you get me my shawl? It’s in the green room.” I said hoarsely.  She bowed before moving away from me and when I looked back up, Jihyun’s gaze caught mine.

“This must be hard on you.” He said softly and I flushed, staring down at my knees.

“Not like I can run from it. Literally or figuratively.” I smiled without mirth.

“Jungkook is …he’s just confused. He needs some time to sort himself out. I’ve asked him to take a break and come back to Seoul after a couple of weeks. The separation would do him some good.” Jihyun said quietly and I sighed before nodding. What else was I supposed to say to that anyway? There wasn’t much I could do, my influence on things almost nonexistent at this point.

“Are you going to give the boy a break, Jeon?” My father demanded, staring at Jungkook’s father who sighed.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to get these damned reporters off our back. They’re all over the place. And yes, I think Jungkook should stay in Japan for a while.  We’re starting a new distribution branch there and I wanted him to scout places and possible vendors. I’ll tell him to hash out all the details before coming back.”

His phone rang again and he excused himself . I watched him leave the room, trying to make sense of his words.

How long would it take to build a whole branch in Japan? I had no clue. But it could hardly be done in a few weeks, could it?

“That’s.. That’s a long time.” I said hesitantly and my father frowned.

“is that a problem?” he asked.

I sighed. There was no point keeping this to myself. I was supposed to go to the doctor’s tomorrow. And well, it would be better if they heard it from me first.

“I.. I’m pregnant.” I said quietly.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at the carpet, not able to bring myself to look up at them. I could guess, what I’d find there. It was what I always found in people’s faces.

“Oh, sweet child.” My father’s sigh made me look up and there it was. The pity. I felt sick to my stomach. Sana returned, settling the hand knit shawl over my shoulders and I wrapped it tight, before glancing at her in some desperation. She smiled reassuringly, settling next to me and gently taking my fingers in hers. The warmth grounded me for a second and when Jihyun growled, I stared at him.

“I… I didn’t know. Fuck, I’m going to kill Jungkook. This fucker…” Jihyung swore and my father sighed, clearly thinking hard.

“you can’t be staying alone now.” He said softly, sitting up and cracking his knuckles, and I swallowed. I wouldn’t bear it if they tried to take me back home. I had hated it there.

“ You must come back home with me.” He said softly but I quickly shook my head.

“ No.. No I won’t. I … Please.” I begged, the mere idea of going back to my childhood home a nightmare. My mother would kill me with just her sharp and vindictive words. I was in no shape to put up with her verbal and emotional abuse. It was one of the things that had made me agree to marry Jungkook in the first place.

“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself.” My father protested. I’ve been by myself my whole damn life, I wanted to scream.

“I’ll be fine. I have Sana and the others to help me.” I said tiredly. My father shook his head before turning to Jihyun again.

“Is Namjoon still working on his book?” My father asked him and Jihyun frowned. The name elicited a tug in my memory and I turned to stare at my father, confused.

“You remember him? He used to tutor you when you were hi High School.”

I had a brief flashback to dimples and almond shaped eyes. I remembered him vaguely. Very vaguely. But nowhere well enough to want him to live with me, alone or not.  

“Dad…” I protested but he held a hand up to silence me, nodding at Jihyun .

“Namjoon? Kim Namjoon? ” He shook his head. “ I’m not sure. Why?”

“I think it would be good if he moves in here. His father was telling me that he was looking for a place to stay, now that he’s moved back to Korea. ” My father said softly, staring at me and I stiffened.

“Father…” I began desperately and my father shook his head.

“Don’t argue. He was a dear friend of yours. I don’t think you should be alone at a time like this. And I think Jungkook would approve. Like Jihyun said, the kid needs some space to sort himself out. Let him finish whatever business is going on in Japan.” My father glanced at Mr. Jeon who looked at me with guilt.

“I owe you an apology , on behalf of my idiot son.”

I looked away, not sure what to say to that. I hated the man quite passionately. Jungkook wasn’t perfect… far from it. But this man had taken a sledgehammer to my husband’s mind and heart at every turn. The disdain, the condescension, the sick way he favored his brother over him, the way nothing Jungkook did was ever good enough. It had all taken a toll on my husband. I had watched it chip away at Jungkook’s self confidence, at his mental health.

“I think more than anything, you owe an apology to your son. You knew he was in love with Lisa and yet…. You forced him to marry me.” I said quietly and the room went eerily quiet. My father rounded on me , eyes blazing.

“Leah!!! Apologize, now!” He roared and I looked away.

“You’re all the same. Ungrateful and entitled.” Mr. Jeon said sharply, before turning to his son. “ I’m leaving Jihyun-ah. Tell me when that wife of yours get home. I want to talk to her.”

He shared a half hug with my father before stalking off and my father grabbed his jacket as well.

“I’ll leave as well. Your mother is being quite hysterical. Apparently, all her friends are hounding her about the article.” He sighed and I nodded , watching him shrug on the jacket before nodding at Jihyun and then following his friend out to the front doors.

Jihyun stayed standing , watching my father’s form disappear through the door before turning to me.

“ Are you alright?” He said quietly, moving to kneel in front of me. Sana stood up, bowing before leaving and I watched her disappear into the hallway leading to the kitchens. Jihyun’s fingers wrapped around mine, brushing my knees and I stared down at him.

“The question is, are you alright?” I brushed the hair off his face. He sighed.

“No. No I’m not. I’m angry and jealous and very much filled with resentment towards my brother.” He said honestly and I laughed, tugging on his hand and patting the seat next to me. He straightened before moving to settle next to me and I leaned on his shoulders, sighing as he wrapped on around me, the warmth of his body comforting .

“Are you going to give your marriage a chance?” I asked carefully.

“She told me she was going to break things off for good. We.. We’ve been talking about it. Starting a family, making this work.” He said quietly. I nodded. It was understandable. Unlike Jungkook and I , Jihyun had a responsibility. He would need a son and even though people liked to act like they didn’t care much about gender, like they didn’t care much about having children , it was sort of an unspoken rule. First son of the house ? You had to have a male heir to carry the family name.

I wondered how that conversation had gone between Jungkook and Lisa. It didn’t really match the photo I’d seen.

“I suppose Jungkook probably put up a fight. He genuinely wants to end up with her. He… He tells me often that he loves her and can’t love anyone else. ” I wondered if I ought to feel embarrassed or insulted.

But the truth was, I was numb to a lot of things that had once hurt quite a lot..

The conversation with Jungkook about my pregnancy had definitely cleared things up for me. There was nothing there worth salvaging. Chasing something that wasn’t real , that was foolishness. Especially when I had a very real baby to think about. A child that counted on me to make the right choices.

“I don’t think he did. She spoke to me last night and said that he agreed. Of course that was before the article came out. I’d like to think she didn’t lie to me but I’m not sure.”

I sighed, settling in closer to his chest. He was warm and firm, solid and reliable. I wondered if it would have been easier, if my father had just married me off to Jihyun instead. Jihyun and I …we were alike. We had been friends , even from childhood. Had watched with fond adoration as our younger siblings had fallen madly, wildly in love. Jungkook and Liza had been drawn to each other from the first. Inevitable.

Jihyun and I were more carefree. We didn’t feel things that intensely and perhaps that was why we could sit here in the calm of the afternoon air, quiet and introspective when we ought to be furious and raging.

“ Should we run off together? You and i?” He said suddenly making me laugh.

“Very much incapable of running.” I reminded him with a grin and he squeezed my shoulder .

“I’d carry you.” He said simply.

“Where would we go?” I asked curiously, indulging the fantasy for just a few minutes.

“Somewhere far away. Maybe India? There’s so many people there and we could get lost in the crowds.”

“That does sound appealing.” I smiled and turned to look up at him. His face inches from mine, not as handsome as Jungkook but strong featured and kind. “ But I’m not alone anymore. I have a child.”

His gaze dipped to my lap.

“Yes. Jungkook’s child.” He said thoughtfully.

“No. Mine. Nobody else’s . Just mine.” I said quietly. Jihyun’s gaze softened. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, echoing his father’s words.” On behalf of my idiot brother, I’m sorry.”

And where Mr. Jeon’s words hadn’t made any sort of impact, Jihyun’s made my heart clench and ache in the worst way. Self pity was something I loathed but sometimes, being handed the short end of the stick at every turn in life makes it impossible to not feel sorry for yourself.

Tears stung, welling up in my eyes and spilling over my lashes like water bubbling out of an aquifer.

I blinked slowly, not bothering to wipe them as they traced a path down my face, dripping into the fabric of my shawl. In a moment of clarity I wondered what Jungkook must be going through now. Nothing good for sure.

It definitely said something, that I still worried for him. Sighing, I let Jihyun hug me closer. I would take advantage of his kindness for a few more minutes. It had been a while since someone had held me like I mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I called Jungkook that evening.

It wasn’t an easy choice but my heart ached and my mind raced with unanswered questions. I didn’t want to get lost in my own thoughts so I didn’t overthink it. We were still married. I was allowed to call him.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Where are you?” I asked quietly and Jungkook’s groan made my face heat up a little.

“I… Leah?” He sounded groggy. I glanced at the time. It wasn’t late.

“Are you sleeping?”

He didn’t reply for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry about what happened. We.. We didn’t do anything else. It was just.. it was a kiss. Just that.”

“Are you still in the hotel?” I asked quietly ignoring his words.

“ For tonight, yes. Dad wants me to stay with a friend of his. I’ll be going over to their place tomorrow morning.” He replied .

Silence followed for a few seconds.

“Namjoon is moving in tomorrow.” I said stiffly.

Jungkook didn’t respond for a minute or so.

“Yes. Father said it’s a good idea. And I agree. You shouldn’t be alone while I’m here. He’s right. Hyung’s a nice guy. He’ll help you out.” Jungkook said softly.

“Liza came home. She wanted to talk to me.” I said quietly.

Jungkook didn’t reply and I sighed.

“I told her I wasn’t going to talk to her before I talked to you. I don’t… I don’t want to say anything to her that I haven’t already said before. But I still want to know your thoughts on all this. Your plans, that is. I take it you weren’t happy with her ending things.” I said stiltedly.

Jungkook didn’t reply for a few seconds.

“Things between us ended a long time ago, Leah. It was over when we both agreed to marry other people. Maybe even before that, I don’t know… I … I guess I just didn’t want to acknowledge them.” He said quietly. “ She’s different, now. Even that kiss felt so wrong.  She’s moving on. I’m glad in a way. She deserves better than me. She deserves someone like hyung. He’s better than me in everyway and-”

God I wanted to strangle him.

“So why did you kiss her?” I snapped. “ If you’re so generously letting her go why would you…” I stopped.

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. It was barely for a second.” He muttered. “ whoever it was must’ve been videoing us for a while.”

I had to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, this little detail made no difference.

“Right.” I sighed. “ So, you won’t be home for a while?”

“Six weeks at least.” He said quietly.

I tried to keep the disappointment down. I still wanted to see him, just to make sure he was okay. But I knew that was just the pregnancy hormones talking.

“Okay.” I said simply.

“How are you? Did you go see the doctor?” He asked softly and the question surprised me. I was half sure he had forgotten.

“No, not yet. Maybe in a couple of days.” I scratched at a small stain on my skirt. Lime juice and baking soda, I thought absently. That should get the stain out.  

“Its pretty late. You should go see the doctor, Leah. I.. I looked stuff up. They say you have to be on pre natal vitamins, folic acid and iron supplements  and you have to have  a balanced diet. I called Sana earlier and told her to speak to our doctor and get a diet chart for you. She said she’ll do it soon. So , please take care of yourself.”

Jungkook sounded entirely serious and as always my brain felt muddled, unable to process why he did the things he did. He had looked things up about the pregnancy and that implied some sort of interest, didn’t it? But ….. he had also kissed my sister so what was I supposed to do with this?

“I’ll call you.” I said shakily, drained. I was done for the day.

“Right.” He said softly. “ Namjoon hyung will be there tomorrow right? Should I talk to him? He could take you to the doctor.”

“No.. That’s fine. I’ll manage.” I said quickly.

“You’re sure?” There was genuine worry there.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“Alright.”

Silence again. I exhaled shakily.

“Should I hang up?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. Good night. ” He breathed.

“Good night, Jungkook.”

Click.

I stared at the wall, gently lowering the phone and placing it on the bed next to me.

She deserves better than me, his voice echoed in my head.

Well, so did I.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon looked nothing like the twenty one year old college student I’d seen a decade ago. I knew he was a successful novelist and I’d read all his books. They were mostly philosophical or commentaries on life and emotions. I enjoyed the way he wrote : melancholic and deep but also clear and easy to understand. It was like staring at a particularly deep pool, being able to see all the way down to the bottom because of how clean the waters were. But once you put your feet in, the depth  always surprised you.

“That’s a lot of books.” I laughed, gripping the edge of the door frame as I watched him stumble under the weight of a crate full of bound books. Namjoon’s messy brown hair peeked over the top, and when he adjusted the huge load to stare at me, I caught sight of his handsome face stretched in a dimpled grin, eyes glinting.

“Research.” He grunted, straightening himself up and I watched the flex of his muscles as he carefully moved to place the crate down in one corner of the large bedroom that I’d had cleaned for him. It was on the west wing of the house, parallel to my own bedroom that I shared with Jungkook . Namjoon had spent three years working as a professor somewhere in Indonesia. And I knew that he’d spent a year backpacking all over Scandinavia. I stared at his tall strapping figure, watching him set up his writing space carefully, sorting out boxes and electronics.

He had driven here in his Range Rover and I knew all his clothes were still there in the back of the car.

“Should I ask the footmen to get your clothes?” I asked and he glanced up at me, frowning.

“Footmen?” He looked confused and I rolled my eyes.

“Namjoon…” I said chidingly and he grinned again.

“I keep forgetting you’re filthy rich. Makes me wish I should have beaten Jungkook to the game and bagged myself a rich wife.” He winked. It was a joke but there was no mistaking the hint of interest in his eye. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. Being married to Jungkook had definitely made me question the attraction I held for men so it felt good, having someone as handsome and whole and successful as Namjoon look at me like that.

“I’ll ask them to get your clothes. You should shower and settle in. We’ll meet for dinner tonight.” I said quickly and he nodded.

“You’re going to be okay heading back to your room? Let me know if you need help.” He pointed at my feet and I nodded. It was sweet of him to offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was surprisingly not awkward at all. Namjoon had a lot of interesting stories to share and I found myself clinging to ever word in rapt attention. He spoke about all the folklore he’d run into in different places, how he thought that no matter the culture, there were always some common things you could find in every one of them. He also talked a little about his next book, which he hadn’t named yet.

“It’s about second chances. Forgiving and moving on.” He said, taking another bite of his braised pork and moving to make another lettuce wrap.

“ Heavy stuff.” I said thoughtfully. “ Most of my writing is commercial. I just try to sell stuff to reluctant people. It’s not much but it keeps me occupied and it’s always nice to make money that you can call your own.”

“It’s because you don’t write for yourself. When you start writing for yourself, you can truly be who you are.” He said firmly and I nodded in agreement.

My writing in college had been vivid and bright and filled with life. But after the accident, it had turned grey and gloomy. The words seemed to drip with loss and longing and  I didn’t enjoy it, because it was a reminder that I was no longer the vibrant, attractive fulsome girl I once was.

“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.” I smiled. “ Being who I am. I would rather pretend I’m at least a little alright.”

Namjoon stared at me, thoughtful.

“You used to run track.” He said softly and I grinned.

“You remember.” I said, pleased.

“Of course I do and you were captain of the volleyball team as well. You used to organize all those hikes and treks and stuff.”

“Yes I did. I loved the outdoors.” I stared out of the window.

“Loved? Past tense?” He tilted his head. I stared at him, shaking my head.

“What kind of question is that.” I shook my head. “ Look at me. I’m not trekking anytime soon, considering how the last time ended.”

“You can still go out.” He frowned. “ When was the last time you went somewhere?”

I shook my head.

“Oppa…”

“Listen. You know me. You’ve known me for more than a decade. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you rattle around this old house like a ghost when you should be out there taking in all the sunshine you can get?” Namjoon placed his chopsticks down and linked his fingers together, staring at me.

I stared at him, and it was definitely there. The concern, the affection. Not that different from when I was sixteen and struggling to understand what pathos meant.

But now there was a definite undercurrent of attraction. Back then it had been childish, the wild crush of a teenager on her hot tutor but now, now I knew that he was so much more than just a hot guy.

“I’m pregnant.” I said softly, more a reminder to myself than anything else.

Namjoon grinned.

“We’ll steer clear of horse riding and alcohol. Anything else you can just let me know.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“I think I’m getting one now.” I deadpanned.

“Because you’re nervous.” He grinned.

“Because your dimples look too adorable.” I retorted.

He laughed.

“I’ll talk to Jihyun and we’ll go see your doctor first. Then we’ll go out and have  a nice picnic.”

“Namjoon, I can’t…”

“You don’t know that.” He said firmly.” You don’t know if you can or can’t because you’ve never tried. Listen I love picnics and I love going out and I want company. I’m agreeing to be stuck with you for a while and the least you can do is  give me company at a picnic. You know how big a loser I’d seem like if I went by myself?”

It was like I was sixteen again getting brow beaten into things by a tutor who just hated the idea of not getting his way. I shook my head fondly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen weeks. Three and a half months.

I stared at the ultrasound, feeling a multitude of things, not all of them good. The baby was growing well and I had all my prescriptions filled. Namjoon had offered to come with me but I had refused. It was too intimate and he was still a stranger. I did take a photo of the ultrasound and sent it to Jungkook.

/Jungkook called me back almost at once.

“You went to the doctor?” He asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Were you running?” I asked, surprised.

“Not really. I’m supposed to be meeting one of the vendors for lunch and I thought I could walk to the restaurant but its farther than I thought.” He huffed.

“Everything’s fine. Baby’s due in July.” I said quietly.

“Summer. That’s good.” He replied. “Right?”

I hesitated. What did that mean? What did it matter when the baby would be born?

“Because winter would mean it being too cold . Summer we can take the baby out and stuff without worrying too much.” Jungkook said softly.

Oh.

“How’s work?” I asked awkwardly. The non conversation was getting tedious. There was just so much to talk about and it was obvious that both of us weren’t in the mood to actually ask or answer anything worthwhile.

“Did dad say something?” Jungkook asked quickly and I frowned.

“No. Why?”

“He wants me to join hyung in the corporate office. Leave the smelter units.” Jungkook sounded subdued and upset and I felt sympathy well inside me.

“Join him? As what?” I asked quietly.

“Head of the marketing department. I’ll be reporting to Seokjin hyung.” Jungkook had clearly started walking again, breath coming in little exhales.

“You don’t want it?” I asked confused, not sure if this was a good or bad thing.

“I mean… I have a degree in Business and Finance. Hyung’s the CEO , I was hoping I’d be the CFO.” Jungkook sighed, “ But I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t disown me altogether after what happened earlier.”

I stayed quiet and so did he.

“We need to talk . When you get back. You … I know you don’t like sharing about what you feel but you owe me an explanation.” I said firmly.

“I know. But I meant what I said when I left. I’m going to be there for you and the baby. You’re still my wife. That’s not going to change.”

I ran my fingers over the ultrasound.

“Did you also mean the part where you said you can’t stand me.” I said bitterly .

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“I… You know I didn’t. That was just something I said on impulse. I’m sorry. You’re… You’ve been nothing but good to me. And honestly, just the fact that you’re carrying my child is proof that I can definitely stand you.” He sounded just a little hoarse.

I bit my lips, staring up at the door when I heard a knock.

“Leah? I’m going to have some tea in the garden … You wanna come with?” Namjoon’s voice rang through the room and I froze.

“Oh.. Oh.. yes. I’ll be down.” I said quickly, nodding . Namjoon pointed at the phone and gave to thumbs up before moving back out.

“Was that Namjoon hyung?” Jungkook’s voice came over the line.

“Oh… yeah. Yeah, he’s… he wants me to have tea with him in the gardens.” I said awkwardly.

“That’s nice.  You should go. Get out of the house once in a while.” I didn’t know what to say to that so I stayed quiet.

After another minute or so of silence, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“ I got that form you sent in for me to fill, about my medical history. I’ll fill it up and mail it to the doctor’s office. Is that alright?” He asked hesitantly. “ If not I can fly back home. If they need me in person or something.”

I frowned a bit.

“They don’t need you in person, Jungkook of course not. Mail it, that’s fine.”

Another pause.

“This is really happening huh? A baby. We’re having a baby.” The exhaustion in his voice was palpable and I wondered.

“Yes. We are.” I said simply, not having anything else to elaborate on. It was happening. I was torn between pleasure at having something to look forward to and guilt at forcing Jungkook into a role he wasn’t ready for. But , for better or for worse we were married. The child was his. It would be a Jeon.

“ I’ll do better.” He said quietly. “ With the little one. I’ll be better.”

Tears these days, sprung up out of nowhere I thought miserably, furiously swiping at my face.

“Leah?” His voice came over the line. “ Leah are you there?”

“I need to go.”

“Alright.”

“Take care of yourself too, Jungkook.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loneliness .

It’s such an odd sort of feeling. Sometimes you get used to it so much, that you forget all about it.

It stays , a part of you that doesn’t make much of an impression on you until one day, suddenly it becomes unbearable,

Until you get a glimpse of what it’s like to not be lonely.

And then suddenly it’s like a deep chasm of longing and desperation just opens up inside you, craving love and warmth and company with a hunger that feels like it can never ever be satisfied.

I’d never paid much mind to the fact that my life revolved around myself, my writing and the flowers in the garden. Not until Namjoon had come, demanding to be felt and seen and heard .

 Namjoon hadn’t joked about not letting me rattle around the house. Our days were spent sprawled on the lawns of the Jeon estate, each of us occupied with our own writing . Namjoon typed away on his laptop while I preferred my leather bound notebook. It was oddly soothing, lying there on the clean cut grass, the sharp blades rubbing against my bare legs, as I leaned back against a tree trunk, watching Namjoon’s furrowed brows as he wrote.

Namjoon had changed in a lot of ways and yet he was still somehow just as I remembered, focused and often lost in his own head. He was a contemplative man and seemed to spend as much time reading as he did writing.

“There’s a poetry club that meets every Tuesday in Gangnam. Would you like to come with me?” He asked casually, about a week after he’d moved in and I considered it. The paparazzi had finally stopped hanging about the estate and Jungkook had called the previous night with a ETA for when he would be back.

Four weeks at most, he had said firmly and I wasn’t sure if I was feeling all that excited for his return anymore. Days spent with Namjoon were more exciting. He included me in every little thing and I was addicted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was probably wrong. Namjoon was sweet and kind but I was still married. But on the wake of that thought came the bitter reminder that there was nothing between Jungkook and I. He was in love with someone else. Why should I deny myself the joy of Namjoon’s company over a relationship that really wasn’t a relationship at all.

Namjoon treated me as an equal, teased and flirted like there was nothing wrong with the two of us living like this, together and away from the rest of the world and I liked it. It made me feel like perhaps happiness wasn’t such an abstract, unreachable thing after all. That perhaps I could find happiness like this. In friendship and mindless conversation with a man who didn’t see me as a burden.

“I’d love that.” I said with a smile, letting my fingers knit together with his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Scorned wife getting even? We spotted the recently cheated on Mrs Jeon getting cozy with a strapping, buff hottie in a private restaurant last Friday and we can’t help but wonder if perhaps the reclusive lady is trying to get back at her husband by flashing her own boytoy.” Namjoon read cheerfully from his phone, looking way too entertained as he showed me the zoomed photo of us holding hands over the dinner table .

“That’s quite the description they’ve put for you.” I grimaced, sipping my chamomile tea slowly. My father and Mr. Jeon had reacted with their usual anger, threatening to sue the gossip rag for libel but it was pointless. They would keep being intrusive rats. There was nothing much to be done beyond enduring them.

“My agent’s losing his mind. He’s been at me trying to get me to agree to book signings and public appearances and he’s pissed that this is the way I get introduced to Seoul’s High society. Poor guy.” Namjoon chuckled and I felt guilt churn.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. I really didn’t think they’d be following me. I mean… usually they’re only tailing Jungkook but I guess with the whole thing with Lisa , they’re just looking for ways to make things worse.” I said hesitantly.

Namjoon hesitated, staring at me for a few seconds.

“We never really talked about how things are.” He said quietly. “ Between you and Jungkook, that is.”

I ran the edge of my chopsticks on the brim of my soup bowl.

“ There’s not much to say. He’s…. He’s still sorting things out. With my sister.” I smiled a little. It ached a lot less, I realized with surprise.

“They loved each other deeply.” Namjoon said softly. “ that sort of thing doesn’t go away that quickly.”

I nodded.

“Of course. And I’ve been …understanding of that. I like to think.”

“But its unfair to you. You deserve to be loved too. Fully and well .”

I leaned back to stare at him.

“Are you offering?” I laughed, teasing.

Namjoon didn’t smile, leaning forward instead.

“Depends. Will you ever consider leaving him, for me?” He said seriously.

My heart turned over inside me.

“Namjoon…” I choked out and he reached out and lightly touched my palm.

“I know how marriages work with people like you, so I think I should draw boundaries now, if I want to keep myself safe.” He smiled a bit.

“I’m pregnant. With his child.” I swallowed and Namjoon’s brows went up.

“I thought it was your child. Yours and no one else’s.”

I felt torn, staring at him and wanting to say that I didn’t consider Jungkook as the child’s father, not in the way most people did. But I also remembered my husbands determined voice, the way he kept insisting that he wouldn’t neglect the child.

“Its not about Jungkook or the child, Leah. Its about you. You married Jungkook knowing he was in love with your sister and that tells me that you listen to your parents. You don’t want to stand up against the rules set by our parents and I don’t fault you for it. But I can’t let myself fall for you, knowing you’re going to be bound by your obligations to yurr family.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” I said easily. “ You’re right. My family comes first. And whether I want to be or not, I’m bound to Jungkook for life. So don’t fall in love with me.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Alright then.”

“Do you want to move out?” I asked bitterly and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What?”

“You clearly think I’m trying to seduce you or something when really, I-“

“Hey. Hey, Leah…no. No alright, that’s not what I meant. These two weeks, it was amazing. I love your mind and you’re easily one of my favorite people on this planet. We’re friends. And we’ll stay friends no matter what but you must know why I said what I said. You’re a beautiful woman and I’m a lonely guy.” He smiled a bit, “ I just don’t want to make it hard for myself when you want me to leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook arrived back in Korea on a cold, rainy morning and against my better judgment I let Jihyun and Lisa drag me to the airport. It was some kind of publicity stunt, that much I could fathom but I didn’t know if Jungkook was in on it. I hadn’t spoken to him in a few days, he had been busy wrapping things up with the new branch in Japan.

It was another bad day for my leg and I found myself leaning heavily on my sister, her arm wrapped around my waist as we walked over to the waiting area. I could already identify a few men with cameras staring at us discreetly. Paparazzi . I saw them move their cameras down to the now obvious curve of my stomach and I swallowed. I could already imagine the articles wondering who the father was : Jungkook or Namjoon.

“You alright?” My sister asked worriedly and I nodded, not looking at her. Lisa hadn’t been discouraged by initial refusal to speak to her, keeping at it till I finally caved and let her visit me at the estate. She didn’t love Jungkook anymore, she insisted . It was over. They were over . She wanted to give her marriage a chance. Very sweet and nice, that. And it was obvious that she wasn’t lying, what with the way she and her husband kept

Jihyun and Lisa had made amends with each other and it annoyed me that they seemed to be madly in love with each other all of a sudden. Like the past couple months hadn’t even happened. I stared down at my wedding ring feeling stricken. Was it unfair that I resented them for this? Why hadn’t the two of them thought of this, of breaking things off and moving on before the damn wedding. And then maybe Jungkook and I would have had a real marriage too.

Bitter and hormonal was definitely not a good combination I thought with a wince, fingers splaying on the curve of my lower belly. It was so odd, being pregnant. The extra weight somehow foreign but also …so soothing. The last scan had shown that I had an anterior placenta and that meant that I may not feel movements for a while. I didn’t mind, having found comfort in just tracing my palm over the bare skin of my stomach.

“There he is.” Jihyun’s voice made me look up and ure enough there he was.

It wasn’t the longest we’d been away from each other and yet, I felt my heart leap at the sight of him. He truly was a very handsome man, I thought miserably. And no matter what people said, it was infinitely more difficult to hate your husband when he looked that good.

Jungkook’s eyes caught mine first and I saw the way his gaze dipped straight to the curve of my bump. Even from the ten feet between us , I saw hi lips part in surprise , eyes going wide. It probably hadn’t felt real to him till now, I thought biting my lips as he carefully handed his bags over to the two chauffeurs who had rushed to help him.

Jihyun wasted no time in bounding over and hugging his little brother tight.

I glanced at the man who had been taking photos, pleased to see the surprise in his face. Was he hoping that the CEO would punch his little brother in the face ? Idiots. Lisa stayed by my side and I exhaled shakily.

“ Dad told me something and I want to know if its true.” I said quietly.

She didn’t reply.

I took a deep breath, still watching the two brothers embrace each other, Jungkook’s face buried in Jihyun’s shoulders. I could see him shaking just a little and I felt my gut clench.

“He told me that …that you never told him that you wanted to marry Jungkook. That when he suggested Jihyun you agreed at once.”

She looked away.

“Lets talk about this later.” She said quietly.

“Does Jungkook know?” I demanded. “ Because he spent that first month of our marriage cursing our father out for forcing you to marry Jihyun. Forcing. And dad says that he did no such thing. So what is the truth.”

Lisa didn’t respond.

“Jungkook  knows.” She said finally, “ I told him… the truth. When we were in Japan.” and I laughed in disbelief.

“Was that before or after you kissed him?” I snapped and she looked genuinely pained.

“Leah, I never meant to hurt you or Jungkook.” She said shakily.

“My God.” I shook my head. “ I always knew you were a selfish, greedy person but I didn’t take you for being a liar and a deceitful coward. ”

She stared down at her feet.

“Yes. I’m greedy..”  She whispered “ And you may not understand it now but I did it for you and for Jungkook.”

She moved away and I watched as Jihyun pulled away from Jungkook, still holding his arm as he held a hand out to Lisa. The smile on her face seemed genuine as she took her husband’s hand and I shifted my gaze to mine. Jihyun and Lisa walked away to their car and Jungkook stepped closer to me, his face stoic and impossible to read.  

“Leah.” He said quietly, dark hair falling into even darker eyes.

I didn’t reply, merely stepping up to gently press my palms on either side of his face.

“Welcome back.” I said softly, before reaching up and kissing him full on the lips. Jungkook’s entire body went stiff as a board at the gesture but he didn’t pull away , thankfully. It felt cold and impersonal and barely lasted a few seconds but hopefully the man had gotten a few good shots. I closed my eyes for effect, running my thumb over the clean shaven curve of his jaw, before pulling away slowly.

I peered over Jungkook’s shoulder, just to make sure and sure enough, the man was moving closer to get better angles. I smiled a little. Good. That should hold these vultures off for a while. I turned back to Jungkook and his eyes followed my gaze catching sight of the man with the camera and his entire body seemed to go stiff with anger.

“Why did you do that?” He growled and I bit my lips.

“You know why.” I made to turn away but he gripped my arm, hard. So hard that I winced.

“What are you doing?” I asked panicking, glancing at the man who was still watching.

“Since when did you start pandering to those pigs?” He whispered angrily and I flinched.

“Your father wants to introduce you to the Board of directors this weekend.” I whispered quietly, “Most of them read the news Jungkook. The last news about us can’t be about you cheating on me.”

“That’s my business. And I’ll deal with it. We’re not doing this, Leah. I’m not putting on some kind of act just to please my fucking father.” He looked furious and the taut line of his jaw made me flinch.

“I’m sorry.” I said quickly, guilt churning inside me. He was right. I shouldn’t have done that without talking to him about it but I knew that the scandal with him and Lisa wouldn’t go down well with the Board. And the Board generally had a direct say on who got hired to top managerial positions.

“I just want you to get that job.” I said softly and he stared at me, stiff body relaxing marginally.

“Let’s just go home. Yeah?” Jungkook said tiredly and I bit my lips.

Less than fifteen minutes since he came home and we were already at odds with each other.

The most ill suited couple in the universe, I thought with a grimace as he stepped right next to me and wrapped a hand around my waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a very terrible tendency to forget taking my pills. So I generally left them by the bedside table. Stepping out of the shower, I found Jungkook sitting on my side of the bed, examining the bottle carefully. I tugged on the white t shirt I had on, suddenly embarrassed because it was Jungkook’s

I’d asked to borrow a couple over the phone,  simply because I no longer fit into my own and the ones I’d ordered weren’t here yet. Jungkook had agreed but still, it felt awkward when he was wearing the exact same t shirt himself.

He turned around when I moved to the vanity to put on moisturizer for the night and through the reflection I saw his gaze linger on my attire.

“Aspirin? Didn’t know that was part of pre natal vitamins?” He said seriously and I blinked., surprised. I turned around to stare at him, licking my lips nervously.

“How much research did you do?” I asked, genuinely curious and he flushed.

“I had a lot of free time. “ He said defensively. “ These six weeks.”

I frowned, before turning back to grab the small pot of night cream from the draw.

“My blood pressure is a little elevated. My mother had pre eclampsia with my sister and they just want to be careful.”

“Pre eclampsia?” Jungkook’s voice was fraught with nervousness and I turned back to see him almost white as a sheet.

“Jungkook…I.. its nothing serious.” I said hastily and his jaw went even more taut.

“What do you mean its not serious? Do you even know what it is?” He demanded.

“Do you?” I snapped back, annoyed at being treated like I was an errant child.

“I know that it’s the leading cause of maternal death during birth.” He all but shouted and I flinched.

“Okay…that’s only in extreme cases.” I held both my hands up. “ it’s a bit too premature to be panicking over that.”

Jungkook opened his mouth, as though to argue but then seemed to calm himself down.

“When’s your next check up?” He asked casually.

“This weekend. But its okay, Namjoon is-“

“I’ll come with you. I.. I want to come with you.” He said quietly.

I stared at him, feeling too awkward to outright refuse.

“You have the meeting with the Board. This weekend.” I said softly.

“So?” Jungkook shrugged. “ I’ll just tell them your appointment and health is more important to me. Besides isn’t that what you wanted? The reason you kissed me at the airport? You want the board to think we’re happily in love. I think that would be an excellent way to show them that. ”

Jungkook stared at me , head tilted curiously, daring me to deny what I had old him myself.

Sighing, I nodded.

“Alright.” I managed a weak smile. “ You can come with me.”

“Namjoon hyung left today, you said?” He asked casually.

I nodded.

“I should send him a bottle of his favorite wine for taking care of you so well. You look good.”

“He did it because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it.” I retorted, his words rubbing me just a little wrong.

Jungkook smiled although it was more of a smirk.

“I’m sure he did. But I’m here now. And I did promise you that I’ll be there for you.”

“For the baby.” I said sharply, not liking the way he looked. The things he seemed to b implying.” You promised me you’d be there for the baby.”

“And right now, said baby is inside you.” He grinned now and I felt my pulse quicken at the sight. Jungkook didn’t smile with me. It wasn’t something that happened. At all. “ So I’ll have to take care of you.”

I stared at him, biting my lips.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “My sister told you she never wanted you so now you want to start fucking me again?”

It was cruel. A terrible thing to say and I regretted it at once.

The smile faded.

“What?”

“ I…fuck Jungkook.” I groaned.

“is that what you think of me? Need I remind you that you were the one who came to me all those months ago? I never…. I would never force myself on you, Leah.” He looked like he’d been stabbed and I heart clenched.

“Jungkook , I…”

“I’ve been honest. Through all of this I’ve been honest to you. I lied to your sister, I lied to my father and fuck I even lied to myself. But I’ve been honest with you , Leah.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?!” I cried out, despairing. “ You were in love with my sister and –“

“And she wanted to marry my brother.” Jungkook yelled, standing up and turning to me, eyes blazing. “  All along. Know what she told me Leah? That it was never supposed to be me. That five years of us being together…it was because she was in love with my brother and she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. She started dating me to make him jealous and when she saw that I spent so much time with Jihyun she stuck around . So she could spend time with him.” He shook his head.

I stared at him, horrified.

“Jungkook….”

“I thought I could never feel more pathetic than when I stood there listening her tel me how she never felt a single thing for me. But wow…. Thank you for proving me wrong. Because right now, standing here begging you to let me a part of the child we both made knowing you only see me as some kind of pervert just looking to get into your bed….” he shook his head,” I feel worse. I feel dirty.”

My throat went dry.

“You know what?” He moved to the closet and to my horror he grabbed a bunch of his clothes and a small suitcase. “ I’m going to go get a Hotel room.”

“What? No… Jungkook, wait!” I rushed to his side, grabbing his arm but he threw my hand off quickly.

“Ask Namjoon hyung to move back in. Better yet, tell dad the truth. That you think I’m disgusting. That the thought of me being in your life makes you sick. Tell him you want a divorce and-“

“It’s a girl.” I exhaled sharply.

Jungkook went completely still.

I swallowed, my heart racing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.

I took a deep breath and moved to lightly touch his back, fingers splaying on the broad expanse of his shoulder blade .

He turned around at that and my heart lurched at the tear tracks down his cheeks. He looked wrecked.

“ A girl?” He whispered.

I bit my lips, nodding.

“We’re having a little girl.” He looked a little shell shocked.

“Yes. And hopefully, she isn’t as dramatic as her father.” I said softly, grabbing the dozen or so t shirts he’d pulled out of the closet and pushing them back into the shelves.

Jungkook didn’t protest, still staring into space, probably just taking the news in. I felt awful for one second because I hadn’t even cared all that much when the technician had told me.

I closed the closet door and moved back to the vanity trying to process all that had been said in the last five minutes, only to feel a headache come on. I would think about it tomorrow.

I finished braiding my hair when Jungkook’s voice came from the bed.

“If you don’t want me to intrude into your space you can tell me. I’m okay with only getting information about the baby.” He said quietly.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

I turned to him slowly. i took a deep breath, considered that what i was going to say would likely change everything between us. But i had to. 

I’ve always been honest with you Leah, He had said and I decided that perhaps he deserved some honesty in return.

“I think I’m in love with Namjoon.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : these two are such a mess istg. 

ooh i don’t have a taglist for this so please comment if you wanna be on it. 

[bangtanloverboys]

found again // jhs

summary - forever was a very long time to be alone, but it was the safeest way to save yourself the heartache of losing loved ones. despite that, you still find yourself falling in love with hoseok

pairing - hunter!hoseok x immortal female!reader

genre - fluff, angst; reincarnation au

word count - 5.0k

warnings - strangers to lovers, hisorical inaccuracies, reader is centuries old, takes place in late 1700s, “i can fix that”, falling in love, kissing, proposal, mentioning of harming self, major character death, dogs die, im sorry everything i write of hoseok is sad but happy ending!!

author’s note - another fic inspired by ABC Forever, because i love the concept and i miss it

After nearing three centuries of life, one would think they’d get used to being alone. To the quiet still air of an empty home, void of a family. But it never did, you could never get used to it. It wasn’t that you purposefully chose to live a life of solitude, but rather found it the best way to live. If you were alone, you couldn’t get hurt. With no roots, it made moving from place to place easier. The only thing that got you through it all was thinking back on your family.

They were long gone by now, but that didn’t change the fact you still thought of them often. More than once, you would dream of what they would have thought with each place. How your mother would move every bit of furniture until it looked just right, how your father would go on about how far it was from the village, or how your little sisters would run about the cabin entirely, claiming it was perfect. 

Several times you would get so caught up in your daydreams, you would even call out to them, only for your voice to die out before their names could even fully fall past your lips. Each time you’d wince at your own foolishness, before sighing, returning to the task you were doing. 

That was simply how you lived until the day that Hoseok arrived. 

You were deep into the woods, picking wild berries when a rustling was heard from across the clearing you were in. Cautiously, you made your way over to the rustling bushes. Right as you were about to peek behind them, a young man popped out from behind them. You let out a scream as you stumbled back, tripping over your skirt and sending you tumbling into the dirt.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry!” The young man spoke as he rushed over to you, helping you back to your feet.

“What were you doing? Were you watching me?!” You exclaimed, pushing him away from you as soon as you stood up.

“No! I promise. I was hunting when my dogs stopped.” It was then you were suddenly aware of the two dog heads that poked out from the branches. “I thought they caught a scent of maybe a deer but uh, seems like they found you,” he chuckled nervously, before his eyebrows shot up. “Where are my manners, I’m Hoseok,” he said, holding his hand out for you.

You stared at it for a moment, before you gave him your name, placing your hand in his. Your hand in his grip, he raised your knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You swore your face grew hot at those words. It had been years since any man had shown you any sort of affection, even if it was the smallest bit. “What are you doing out here?”

“I- uh, berries.” You gestured to your basket that you left across the clearing. “Collecting some for a pie.” You’re unsure why you felt nervous all of a sudden, but with Hoseok’s gaze on your, it made it difficult to not feel shy.

“Berry pie? Oh that sounds delicious.”

Before you could even comprehend what you were thinking, you found yourself asking, “Would you like some?” 

“Pardon?” He furrowed his brows at you.

“I mean,” you cringed at yourself before you started over, “would you like to come over? It should only take a few hours?”

A smile lit up his face, and you swear you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful smile. “I would love that.” The both of you walked across the field, picking up your basket as you reentered the forest, heading into the direction of your cottage. Glancing behind you, you saw the two bloodhounds following close on his heels. No doubt noticing how you kept glancing behind him, he introduced them. “Their names are Mickey and Ann.”

“They’re beautiful,” you complimented.

The rest of the journey back to your cottage was in silence, but it was not uncomfortable. Reaching your small little property, you felt uneasiness wash over you as you motioned to your small cottage. It was already several years old by the time you moved into it, windows didn’t shut right and it took a couple nudges to fully close the door; but it was home. If Hoseok thought any less of it, he didn’t say anything, besides ordering the two dogs to stay put at the front door.

Once inside, you began to prepare the pie crust. On occasion, you’d glance up at Hoseok who was staring at the small things you had collected over your life, mainly assorted coins from each country you visited and a few books. Picking one of them up, he began to flip through it.

“Do you actually understand this?” He asked, gesturing to the words on the page.

“Italian? Yes.” No doubt it was probably one of the first languages you learned when you discovered your affliction. Over the past few centuries, you found out you had quite the knack for picking up languages. 

“You must’ve had some fancy schooling,” he whistled as he set the book down.

“Not really,” you flushed as you kneaded the dough. “Just knew someone who taught it to me.”

“Family?” He asked.

You shook your head no. A small Italian artist took you under her wing for a handful of years, deeming you her muse. In return for being the source of her inspiration, she taught you her language. 

“Where is your family?” 

The question had you cease your kneading. You should have known the question would’ve been asked at some point or another. Not to mention, you were somewhat of an enigma to the nearby village. A young well read woman from far away living in a small abandoned cottage, what could you possibly be doing all the way out here? No one ever said anything to you about it, but you knew they certainly thought something of it, judging by the stares you received when you’d walk into town. If he’d ever been, there was a strong possibility he knew of you already.

“Gone,” you answered, resuming your kneading. “Just me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” His voice was soft as he apologized, like he regretted asking.

“Not your fault, they’ve been gone for a while.” A long while.

The comfortable silence was gone, replaced with an air of tension. Like a string held so taught that the smallest movement would cause it to snap. The topic of your family always stung, no matter how much time had passed. 

Quite possibly wanting to ease the awkward atmosphere he created, Hoseok quietly made his way over to you in your small kitchen. Standing beside you, he smiled.

“What can I do to help?”

Pushing down the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach, you stepped to the side and handed him the basket of wildberries you collected. “Make the filling?” 

The rest of the afternoon consisted of both of you struggling to make the pie. Hoseok apparently wasn’t all that good with following directions as whenever you turned your back to do something, he would try and sneak a nibble at the filling. On occasion, he’d inquire about your knowledge of languages; curious to learn different phrases. It was only when you put the pie in the oven did Hoseok finally cease his linguistic questions. Sitting on a stool, you allowed yourself to catch your breath as you watched the young hunter, who’s gaze was fixated on your roof. 

You were well aware of the shape your cottage was in, due to its old age it was in constant need of repairs. The most important one being the leaks in the roof, thankfully it was the dry season so you didn’t have to go about fixing them just yet, but you knew you’d have to get to it eventually.

“I can fix that.” He gestured up to the roof.

“Can you really?” You raised a brow at him.

“Consider it my way of repaying you for the pie.”

And that was the beginning of your friendship with Hoseok. He’d stop by every other day, tools in hand and work on sealing up your roof. A few times, he’d even bring in a few of his kills, offering it to you to make some dinner. Each time you refused, but he always insisted. 

“A lady needs her food.”

A little over a week had passed and Hoseok finished the roof. It was then you realized how badly you hated being alone. You’d missed having someone to talk to, to cook for. Having grown so used to his presence in that week, you pointed to the old busted chicken coop that resided on your property. It had been empty since you’d moved in and you thought having fresh eggs from a nice chicken coop would be nice. Without hesitating, he agreed to fix the coop. And your front door, and your windows, and your fence. Each time he completed something, you found something new for him to fix.

While he worked on repairs, you’d either read or cook up dinner, not only for you and him, but for his dogs as well. Mickey and Ann were complete sweethearts, waiting patiently by the front door for their owner to come in and join you all for food. When he was working on your windows, more than once you saw him peeking through as you sat at your kitchen table reading  as Mickey laid his head on your lap. 

Eventually, the cottage was practically brand new. There was nothing else to be fixed and you had to prepare yourself to say goodbye to Hoseok. Your heart ached as he walked away from your home for the last time, his dogs trailing behind him. The following morning, you resumed your usual chores and activities; tending to your (new) chickens, work in your garden, and reread your books. 

You’d been fighting off tears all day, and it was as you were preparing supper that the tears began to fall. Perhaps it was foolish of you to get attached to him anyways. No matter what would have happened, it would’ve turned out the way it usually did: with you disappearing. 

A knock on your door, pulled you from your thoughts. For a moment you were confused, no one ever from the village ever came up to visit, you wondered what could’ve happened. Quickly, you wiped the tears from your eyes and made your way over to the door, where the unknown visitor knocked away. 

“Coming, I’m coming!” You called as you swung the door open, revealing- “Hoseok?”

The young man was at your door, a handful of freshly killed quails in hand, and both hounds standing behind him, panting happily. “What, I’m not late am I?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “that’s not it at all. I just- I wasn’t expecting you?”

“Why wouldn’t you be expecting me? I thought we had a nice little arrangement going on?” He questioned.

“We did, but I have nothing else for you to fix so I assumed-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off. Cupping your cheek, you had no choice but to look up into his sweet, adoring face. “I thought it was pretty obvious you wanted me around for some other reason besides being your handyman.”

Feeling your face grow hot, you slowly nodded. 

He chuckled at you softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “So is it alright, I come over for supper?”

“Of course,” you breathed out. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy in so long. 

So the two of you fell into a routine of sorts, he would stop by some meat for you to cook for your supper. Over the meal, you’d catch up on your day to day activities. By the time the food was gone, and you were with full bellies, Hoseok would excuse himself. 

“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning,” was what he would say as he left your cottage for his own home, somewhere in town. A few times you’d stayed up so late that it was well past midnight, so you offered him your place for the night. Purely because you didn’t want him out so late, but each time he refused; saying it wouldn’t be right.

Slowly, your dinner meetings would begin happening in the day time. The last few days of summer were upon you and you wanted to spend it with Hoseok, having a picnic with him. 

You dragged him up a tall grassy hill, basket full of bread, cheese, and jam. He laughed as he allowed you to pull him up towards the top, Mickey and Ann trailing behind at his heels, barking happily. Hoseok allowed the dogs to wander around the area, occasionally calling them back if they went too far. 

All set up, you both sat down and enjoyed your lunch. It wasn’t long after you finished that you scooted closer to him, and closer until your hands were almost touching. You were about to slip your hand underneath his when Hoseok’s hand moved, taking your’s and placing it in his. His hands were rough to the touch, small calluses riddled his palms. A smile playing on your lips, you rested your head on his shoulder.

Neither of you moved for hours as you watched the day go by from that little spot on the hill, relishing in the late summer sun. Out of all the years you lived, you had to think that that moment there was the most peaceful. There was no need to run, no overwhelming sense of loss, just you and Hoseok.

“What was your family like?” He questioned.

Taking a deep breath, you began talking about your late family. “My father was a miller, he’d often take me on his runs to deliver flour, giving me a little sack to carry as well,” you smiled fondly at the memory, the villagers chuckling at you as you teetered behind him. “When I was even younger, I used to lay down by the fire and watch my mother sew. . . scolding me for growing up so fast.”

“Did you have any siblings?”

“I had two younger sisters, parents weren’t able to have anymore after the youngest,” you sighed, remembering how hard your parents tried. “They adored flowers, wanting to cover the cottage we lived in with honeysuckle and wild flowers.” Your vision started to get blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“They sound wonderful,” Hoseok murmured.

“Yeah, they were. . .” You sighed, blinking back the tears.

“Hey,” he pulled his shoulder away to look at you. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” Hoseok’s hand moved to cup your cheek, brushing the stray hairs from your face. “Your parents are looking down on you, so proud of the woman you are today.”

Meeting Hoseok’s eyes, you’re overwhelmed with the love and adoration pouring from his gaze. Never in your three hundred years had a person ever looked at you that way. As much as you wanted to give into his love, you were scared of the inevitable. One day Hoseok would begin to age and he would notice you still look the same as the day you met. He would grow old before your eyes, leaving you no choice but to leave him broken hearted. To love him would be selfish of you.

The sound of his voice calling your name pulled you from your spiral. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, before he slowly leaned in. For the first time ever time felt like it stood still. There was no inevitable ticking clock, no fear or thoughts of the future. Just you and Hoseok, on that grassy hill on a late August day. 

You should’ve known better than to have let him kiss you, as you knew as soon as you felt his lips on yours, there was no way you’d be able to let him go. Being alone for so many years, perhaps this time you could allow yourself to be selfish. One day you’d tell him about your curse, but until that day came, you were going to let yourself be with him. 

As the seasons changed, your relationship with Hoseok only grew stronger. He’d visit you daily, bringing gifts of flowers, baked goods, and other assorted courting gifts. The two of you would spend all day together, reading or he’d help you take care of your chickens. Each night, he would leave, despite your insistence on him spending the night.

“I’m courting you, let me do this right,” he whispered once as he kissed you goodnight. 

While you appreciated the sweet sentiment, he should’ve known your relationship was anything but orthodox. If your mother was still around, she surely would’ve been scandalized to hear you kissed him before you even married him. In fact the more you thought about it, the more horrified your mother would be at what you’ve done before marriage. But despite everything you may have done in the past, everything with Hoseok felt like a first.

Whenever Hoseok was with you, never did it feel like time was passing. Like it was only the two of you in your own little bubble of the world, frozen in time. Thoughts of your curse were far from your mind, but each time he left for the night, you knew you had to tell him eventually.

As the days grew colder, that ache you felt in your heart only became more apparent. Soon, you’d think to yourself, I’ll tell him soon. But it couldn’t come soon enough.

Snow soon covered the land, leaving you and Hoseok nothing much but to huddle yourselves inside your cottage. Both of you were huddled in front of your fireplace, desperate to keep warm. Hoseok’s dogs were curled up beside you as well, Mickey’s head resting on your lap as you lazily stroked his fur with one hand. You were rereading one of your novels, simply enjoying the warmth of the fire when you could feel Hoseok’s eyes on you. It wasn’t uncommon that he would stare at you as you did any sort of task, but there was something different about him. Behind his eyes, there was a particularly soft warm glow, making your body feel a thousand times more warmed than the heat of the fire in front of you.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” You finally asked, setting your book down. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Within an instant you felt your cheeks warmed by his words. “Yes,” you responded shyly, avoiding meeting his eyes. 

Scooting closer to you, he took the book out of your hand, placing it off to the side. Both hands now free, he took them in his as he said your name. “I don’t know how else to say this but, I love you. I don’t know exactly when I fell for you, but I don’t think I ever want to stop.” Removing one hand from yours, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a delicate copper band. 

A gasp escaped your lips as he held out the ring for you. 

“It would give me the greatest pleasure, if you were to be my wife.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, yes!” You repeated as he slipped the ring onto your finger. Not even looking at it, you threw your arms over his shoulders. Unprepared for your sudden movement, you both went tumbling to the floor, the dogs whined as they rushed to move away from your colliding bodies. You pressed your mouth to his, smiling into it as he returned your kiss.

Until that moment, all your kisses had been brief. Fleeting kisses of hellos and goodbyes, never lasting more than a second. This kiss was different. His hands held your gently at your hips, keeping you in place on top of him. A fire ignited deep in you as you kissed him, you didn’t want to let him go now, not tonight. Keenly, you began peppering Hoseok’s entire face with kisses. His grip on you tightened as your lips traveled lower along the side of his jaw, nibbling at his neck.

“Wait,” his words came out in a groan. Calling your name, you only responded by moving back up to his lips, wanting to kiss him again. “No, not yet.”

“Hoseok, please,” you whined, breathless from the kiss.

“I know, I know, my love,” he panted as his hand came up to cup your face. “It’s getting late,” he sighed, noticing how dark the sky was outside once you were both sitting up again. 

“You could stay the night,” you offered once again. Before he could protest, you continued. “Besides, we’re engaged now. What difference would it make?”

Hoseok rolled your eyes at the logic. “The difference is I would like my first time with you, to be with you as my wife.” 

“You’re such a romantic,” you huffed as he stood up, gathering his things for him to leave.

Once all his things were together, he lowered his head down, kissing you one last time. “Goodnight, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Hoseok and his dogs left just like they would any other night. 

You stared at the door, waiting for the faint crunches of his footsteps in the snow to disappear. Now alone, you knew you had to tell him. Hopefully his love for you would trump any doubts he would have. While you could try to hurt yourself as proof, you doubt he’d want to see you harmed. Death was a jarring thing, no matter if you were to come back or not. Regardless of the outcome, you knew you’d tell him tomorrow. 

The following day, you got up like you would any other. You got yourself dressed, and began your daily activities. Everything was the way it normally was, but something felt off. You couldn’t place what was, but you knew deep down that something wasn’t right. 

Covering yourself with a thick shawl, you made your way over towards your chicken coop. Picking out the eggs from your hens, ready to make something for breakfast. Once you had enough, you made your way back over to your house. It was then you heard barking. 

Turning your head, you saw the familiar faces of Mickey and Ann, but there was no Hoseok. Setting the basket down, you lowered yourself to the ground, ready to greet the hounds. 

“Hey, hey,” you cooed as you pet the dogs, both of them clearly very distressed. “What’s going on? Where’s Hoseok?” As the mention of his name, Mickey barked at you while Ann whined, pulling at your skirts. 

“Excuse me, miss.” A new voice called from across the way. Looking up, recognizing the face as the innkeeper. You’d seen him a few times in town and Hoseok spoke of him often, as he had been renting one of his rooms the past few months. “You knew Hoseok, correct?”

“He’s my fianceé,” you responded cautiously as you straightened up. You hugged your shawl tighter around you as the innkeeper’s eyes saddened at your words. “Why? What happened?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss, miss.”

“What?” That moment, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. Deep down, you wish it did. No, Hoseok couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t be. You wanted to accuse the innkeeper of lying, or perhaps he mistook someone for Hoseok. But the look in his eyes was clear: Hoseok was dead.

A ringing started in your ears as you stumbled back into your cabin, the dogs following after you. Barely able to hear any other word the innkeeper might’ve said, but it didn’t matter anyways. Hoseok was gone. There couldn’t be anything else to be said. 

Alone once again in your home, you collapsed onto the ground. Opening your mouth, a deafening wail passed your lips. You had died a number of times by now; you’d been poisoned, stabbed, hung, shot, drowned. You’ve felt almost every measure of pain there was, but nothing compared to the pain you felt when you’d lost your beloved Hoseok. 

You became a ghost of yourself after that day. Simply going through the motions of each day. Your only company was Mickey and Ann, who too missed their late owner. They were your only comfort, knowing that taking care of them was something Hoseok would’ve wanted you to do. Every night, they slept on your bed, curled up beside you as you lazily pet their aging bodies. 

Ann was the first to die. 10 years have passed since you lost Hoseok. You’d moved out of that cottage a few years prior, knowing it was only a matter of time before the village had caught on to your affliction. The move was particularly hard on the two hounds, not wanting to move far from the only town they’d ever known. But you had no choice. It became very apparent that Ann wished to return, always sleeping by the door, hoping you’d change your mind. That’s how you found her one spring morning, lying quietly by the door, having passed in her sleep.

You buried her in your garden, under a bed of roses.

Having lost both his sister and Hoseok, Mickey followed soon after. He rarely left your bed, only getting up to eat or to go outside. It was only three months later did you bury him beside Ann. 

The only reminder you had left of Hoseok was the ring on your finger. You rarely took it off your finger, fearing that one day you might forget it or Hoseok. Often you’d find yourself staring at the copper band. It was simple, bearing no special engravings or jewels, but it became your most prized possession.

Unfortunately, time didn’t stay still for you to wallow in your misery. You had to keep moving forward. But as time moved on, so did the world around you. It was strange how fast technology advanced, but as helpful as it was to the people around you, it became your worst nightmare. It became harder and harder to disappear, small towns and far away cabins no longer felt like the safe haven they once were. Which was how you found yourself deep in the city.

It was strange how easy it was to disappear, to simply become another face in the crowd. No one spared you a second glance, no matter how many times you may have seen them over the years, no one recognized you and your lack of aging. As long as you kept to yourself, you managed to stay hidden in plain sight.

Off the corner of 3rd street, you had your own little hole in the wall bookstore. You purchased the store from a sweet old couple a few years back, it was a quaint little bookshop, already having its own group of loyal customers. On occasion, you would get a few new faces, but it was usually the same ones everyday. 

Until today when you saw a face you hadn’t seen in almost 300 years.

Per your usual morning routine, you were taking inventory of the store when you heard the bell over the front door ring. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” You called out, trying to finish the last few rows of books. Finished, you made your way back towards the front of the store, dusting your hands off. “Well, is there anything I can help you with-” You stopped dead in your tracks as you saw the man you had entered your store. His eyes were cast downwards and he looked over the titles of the front shelves. Hearing your arrival, familiar dark eyes faced you.

“I’m just browsing,” he said, lips curling into a smile you swore you almost forgot. 

In front of you, was Hoseok. It was, had to be. He looked every bit the same as that cold winter night when you last saw him. Your mouth opened and closed several times, before you finally gained your senses.

“Well, just, let me know if there’s anything specific you had in mind,” you responded, smiling as you spun around on your heel, wanting to make a break for your back office.

“Actually, there might be something.”

Swallowing thickly, you turned back to face him. “Oh?”

“I’m thinking of getting into cooking, do you have any cookbook recommendations?” He asked.

“Y-yeah, follow me.” Quickly, you walked over towards your cookbook section, feeling his eyes on you as you walked him over to the shelves. Dragging your fingers over the spines, you pulled out the one you were looking for. It was an older copy, you recognized from the late 80s. Inside were recipes of different types of baked goods and other dishes. “This one, I think I’ve made just about everything in it twice,” you said, pulling it off the shelf and handing it to him. 

As the man flipped through the pages, you found yourself fiddling with the ring that now hung around your neck. Long ago, you strung a chain through it, nearly losing it down the drain. You stared at him in front of you, still not able to wrap your head around it. After nearly six hundred years, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the same face twice. Maybe this was your second chance with him, to start over again. But at the same time, you knew it would be foolish. The man in front of you was a complete stranger, not Hoseok. For all you know, he could be completely different than your long lost fianceé.

Shutting the book, he nodded. “This is perfect.”

Shaking you from your thoughts, you nodded. “Great. I’ll ring you up over here.” Walking back towards the cash register, you both fell into a silence as you rang him up. “Alright, here you go,” you smiled, handing him the book.

“Thank you so much.” Cookbook and receipt in hand, he made his way towards the front door. He couldn’t go just yet, there was something you needed to know.

“Wait!” You called out right as he placed his hand on the door. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”

That brilliant smile played on his lips again as he responded. “Jung Hoseok.”

[retvenkos]

Grishaverse Deep Dive: The Darkling is a Character that lives in a Society.

((spoilers for ALL of the grishaverse))

Ah, yes, Shadow and Bone season 2 is gearing up, the birds are singing, I have a cup of earl grey tea before me -  it is finally time to sit down to talk about the Darkling, and explain his tenuous relationship with the Grishaverse.

The Darkling is a character greatly contested. When simply looking at his motivations, we see a rift in the fandom. Add in his backstory and it fractures even more. When you pepper in the third ingredient of his relationship with Alina, you get an entire war. The Darkling is a divisive character. He gets under our skin and lingers for days afterwards.

I am going to take you on a deep dive of the Darklings character, and try to tease apart the problems that lie within the creation of his character. Why were so many fans betrayed by his ending? How did he muddle the messages of Shadow and Bone, and why is his ending so complicated that it satisfies very few? Today, we’re going to look at The Problem of the Darking: An Essay in Six Parts.

A little history lesson;

So first, allow me to take you back in time, to 2012, when Shadow and Bone was first released.

Two years prior, The Hunger Games Trilogy had finished coming out and, in a rather stunning turn of events, shifted the popular Y.A. category from the genre of the paranormal romance (thank you, Stephanie Meyer) to the dystopian society. 

Now, this is not to say that there weren’t dystopian stories prior to The Hunger Games, or that there weren’t paranormal romances in the Y.A. genre afterward. Both have survived, but the boom of dystopian stories and the whimper of paranormal romance was definitely felt.

So 2012 hits. In comes Shadow and Bone, in a time where we have some interesting precedents that our Y.A. forefathers created: 

Firstly, let’s talk about themes.

Carried over from both genres, is this idea of duality. There is light and there is dark, and whether or not there is a middle ground is up to the author. As the Y.A. target audience is quite large, there’s a lot to be said for how nuanced this idea can be. In many stories, it’s a nail on the head. In others, the lines are a little more blurred. In most stories, you get some semblance of Good = Light, Bad = Shadow. In the end, the ultimate goal is to embrace one or the other. At the end of the series, we’re either in the midday sun or the midnight darkness. The peak of the story leaves very little middle ground.

Then, brought over from the dystopian genre, we have the idea that The Current Regime is Bad for insidious reasons, and it needs to be torn down and built anew. This is often the main focus of dystopian stories, and our main characters are revolutionaries that see the world in a new, free light.

Finally, a trap of the Y.A. category is it’s simplistic idea of good and bad. Again, we hark back to the vast target age range, and you can see why this would be so prevalent. There is very little by way of morally grey, in the Y.A. category, and if there is moral greyness, it almost always falls into two categories: (1) it is held by the main character alone, and that is why we root for them, or (2) it is martyred and killed. Moral greyness is either the Ushering of a New Era, or The Ideal that Could Not Be. If greyness is to survive, it must exist in the main character who, readers hope, will usher in a new dawn of peace (and light moral greyness) either through their small acts of love (the angel loving the demon) or in large displays of change (the morally grey character rising to be ruler).

These are all themes we expect to be present in Shadow and Bone. And for the most part, they are!

But now let’s talk about character tropes.

Carried over from the paranormal romance, we have the introduction of the “Othered” love interest. This character has a condition that sets him apart from others, and (whether it be vampire, demon, werewolf, etc.) is so prevalent that he cannot fit in. And because of his differences, he has been shunned by Society. This character, notably, is not the “light” or “pure” paranormal figure - he is not the angel - but rather, the demon. The angel would be able to slip into society (presumably because his goodness grants him some kind of godly camouflage). The demon cannot. He doesn’t fit in, and he never can. This creates tension in him, and so he shuns others just as hard as they shun him - he has done so for a very long time until he meets our main character, who gets close to him and breaks down his walls. This character is often the eventual love interest, for reasons that will become apparent later. 

Sometimes carried over from the paranormal romance is the idea that the main character is secretly an “other in hiding” (an angel without her wings, etc.). This creates a bond between the “Othered” love interest and the main character - a bond that can’t be deteriorated once it’s been made, because the main character can’t be un-Othered. They can’t take back the forbidden knowledge they’ve obtained. If this character pops up, the “Othered” love interest is almost always chosen, if he exists.

The dystopian genre has a branching version of this trope, as there is almost always a healthy amount of othering. The main character usually comes from a group of people that is Othered from Society, but our main character is even more unique/different from their “Othered group.” This “specially Othered” character is superpowered in that they can navigate both “Othered” Society and “normal” Society. They can be the go-between.

Sometimes found in the paranormal romance is the “normal” or stereotypical character. This is the average human - the character that doesn’t understand the “Othered” love interest, and wants the main character to go back to the way things were before. This character can sometimes make up the other leg of the love triangle and become a love interest. Other times, it’s a family member or a friend or even an abstract ideal. The point of this character, however, is to show the main character that they can’t go back to the way things were. Too much has happened. Too much has been discovered.

All of this is to say that when Shadow and Bone came out, audiences had expectations with long standing. It is safe and fair to say that the Darkling was set up as a character to be viewed in a certain light, and then the rug was pulled out beneath fans, who had already invested so much in his character.

Shadow and Bone: The characters that Don’t Fit;

So now let’s look at Shadow and Bone in the scope of history and audience expectation. Let’s look at the characters as well as the Grishaverse, in broad terms.

The Darkling is, in the first half of Shadow and Bone, the stereotypical “Othered” love interest. He can summon shadows, which is remarkably different from the other powers of Grisha, and his “forefathers” have done terrible things with this power, making him not only an other in talent but an other in animosity and fear.

In comes Alina, and she is a perfect fit for the main character being an “other in hiding” as well as a “specially Othered” character. She was otkazat’sya before she realized she was Grisha, and she is seen as the go-between for these two different worlds - she can bring them together. Furthermore, she is stronger than your average Grisha - distinct from all others, excepting the Darkling.

Alina is understood by the Darkling. She is discovering parts of herself that she didn’t know she had. This is all decidedly Good, and the romance that is forming is living up to reader expectation.

We also have an interesting occurence of duality. Alina, with her light, is the equal and opposite to the Darkling and his shadow. Together, they have limitless power, a common goal, and perhaps a purifying dynamic as Alina can “save” the Darkling. Her light can banish his shadows. 

History is leading us to believe they are the endgame ship.

This is only inculcated when you have Mal, who is the “normal” character. Through the framing of the story (not seeing Mal, holding on to him only causing Alina to not reach her full potential), we see that the love story with Mal is the Romance That Cannot Be. They are fated to be apart due to the tropes that readers know and understand.

But then the second half of the book kicks in, The Darkling is proven to have been manipulating Alina, things go South, and readers are left unaware of what’s coming next. In this moment, the theme of The Current Regime is Bad slaps readers across the face.

So let’s take a second to look at The Current Regime is Bad, because how the Darkling and his motives exist in that tempest is thought provoking, to say the least.

The Darkling is, decidedly, a part of The Current Regime. He is a general and close to the King, after all. He is a part of this life... and yet he is not. Remember that The Darkling is our “Othered” character. He cannot be a part of The Current Regime because he is shunned by it. And yet, he is tied to it like a prisoner. 

The reader thinks: is the Darkling bad? He is shown to be a part of Society. He wants the war to continue - he doesn’t want to tear down the Fold.

As the reader is grappling with this revelation, we are told (in the same book!) that the Darkling is actually not a part of The Current Regime (which is Bad), but rather, had been working against it. 

Okay.

So now the reader thinks that since Society is Bad, and the Darkling is against it, he and Alina do have a common goal, and his status as a love interest can be saved. He can be redeemed as a character because Alina can purify his methods, then together they can get rid of the current regime, and they can be Others together.

It’s a solid thought process. After all, the “Othered” characters have been consistently good at heart, and Alina can redeem him. We still have a bad guy to take down - and it’s not the Darkling.

But...

Leigh Bardugo decides that is not the story she wants to tell, and she has to pull out some literary gymnastics to give us an explanation. The idea is, no, the Darkling is Bad and his “Othered” status is not relevant because it doesn’t justify his actions. He is a part of a radical portion of The Current Regime and is just as Bad. 

Enter Nikolai Lantsov, who can take over The Current Regime, because as the reader is constantly reminded, Alina no longer wants novelty - she wants normalcy (which is represented by none other than Malyen Oretsev).

So, what does all of this mean? The Darkling decidedly Doesn’t Fit into any of the currently accepted (and expected) tropes of the Y.A. genre. This, on its own, is not inherently Bad or Wrong, but you can see how readers were thrown and consistently, ideas were stretched to fit the simplistic ideas of good and bad that run rampant through the Y.A. category.

The Darkling: What We Left Behind;

We have all heard the critique that the most frustrating thing about the Shadow and Bone Trilogy is how the treatment of Grisha is never fixed. It’s mentioned, but it’s never addressed.

To play the Devil’s Advocate, I am going to tell you all that this problem was never fixed because it was never part of Alina’s Narrative. As I will now attempt to point out, The Darkling is an ill suited antagonist for Alina’s story.

As I like to joke with my friends, the Darkling is an Adult Fantasy character inside of a Y.A. Fantasy story. He cannot be properly served because the story does not fit him, and it doesn’t really try.

Y.A. stories are incredibly focused. There is usually a lot going on in the wider story, but the reader is confined to one point of view and one narrative. This is why the main character is always leading rebellions and fighting in the thick of things. In order to address the problems of the wider narrative, the main character needs to be pretty front and center with the problems.

Alina is at the center of an inner conflict of power vs. normalcy. She is not at the center of the Grisha’s problems. 

Time and again, we see that Alina largely doesn’t care about how terribly Grisha are treated, as a whole. She has moments of clarity where she is angry (notably the scene in Ruin and Rising where the nations’ treatment of Grisha is described in detail), but her remorse doesn’t really extend past sympathy. In the end, she still does nothing to save Grisha.

Alina is a terrible hero when matched to the problems the Darkling is trying to solve. She doesn’t understand their full breadth, having not grown up with them, and she doesn’t want to fix them.

The Problem of The Darkling is that he is a character with problems and motivations that get shrinked and discarded because they do not fit into the Alina Narrative.

Alina’s story is about three things: (1) learning that a lust for power is bad and only corrupts; (2) tearing down the Fold, which is the representation of lusty power; and (3) returning to normalcy. (If you’re wondering why Mal is a rough™ character, it’s because he’s supposed to be the ideal of normalcy, that Alina both wants but can’t have as long as she seeks the amplifiers.) The Grisha don’t factor into that equation.

Alina doesn’t have a solution for giving the Grisha a safe existence where they won’t be sold into slavery, won’t be persecuted by the world, and won’t be forever Othered. She stumbles upon the vague promise of fixing the last of those problems when she runs into Nikolai (purely by chance, or, if you want to stretch it, The Darklings machinations). Furthermore, she doesn’t want to do any of that - she wants normalcy, remember? Her story isn’t going to be saving the Grisha - that’s not what it’s about.

The Darklings entire character motivations focus on all of the plot points that Alina doesn’t hit. He wan’t to make a safe existence for Grisha, he wants Grisha to no longer be persecuted and Othered. How is he going to do it? By ugly means, yes, but he’s going to achieve it nonetheless.

The Darkling has motivations that are not addressed in the Shadow and Bone Trilogy. They aren’t what the story is about, or what the story chooses to focus on. His story is a braided narrative that is too complicated for the simplistic, black and white story that the Shadow and Bone Trilogy is. 

So here’s the problem: the story insists the Darkling is the bad guy, but he can’t possibly be the bad guy if his intentions are Good, and there is no other way. Until Alina finds another way, he is a martyr - he is the Starless Saint. The Saint who was misguided, sure, but the only Saint who tried to solve things.

The Darkling is not fit for Shadow and Bone. His story and what he advocated for isn’t resolved by the end of the trilogy. So when he dies, it feels unearned. It’s tragic - and perhaps there is some beauty in that tragedy, or some lesson to be learned about how you cannot justify evil means for a good end - but it feels undeserved. His problems aren’t addressed. He is defeated, but his cause and his essence aren’t put to sleep.

King of Scars: A Cause Without Its Martyr;

Which leads us to the Nikolai duology.

Like I said - The Darklings’ problems are forgotten in Alina’s narrative. So what happens when we break out of that point of view? After a brief (and iconic) interim with the Crows, we are back in Ravka and the Grisha are still struggling with the problems that Shadow and Bone failed to address. Ravka is still dying, but now that we have gotten rid of a reluctant cast of characters and have made distance from the trope-heavy Shadow and Bone, we are better equipped to save her.

But here’s a question - can we ignore the man who pioneered these problems in favor of a more palatable cast? Can we not address the Darkling while picking up the sword he used?

Leigh Bardugo needs to reclaim the Grisha Problem by stealing it from the Darkling’s grasp. That proves to be difficult, given that we’ve killed him and have given him a tragically beautiful death. Absence has made the heart grow fonder, and in his final moments, the Darkling was not the evil Shadow Summoner but rather Alexander Morozova - the boy within. Readers (even those who didn’t like the Darkling) might be more endeared to him now that everything is said and done.

We need to separate the Darkling from his cause.

Enter the Cult of the Starless Saint and the Condemnation of the Starless.

To remind readers that the Darkling is bad, Leigh Bardugo does a few things. Firstly, she has her characters repeatedly condemn the Darkling. On one hand, it makes sense and feels genuine. On the other hand, it can be a little excessive. Sometimes, the vehemence reads like what it is - Leigh Bardugo is giving us reasons to hate the Darkling again. Add on the fact that Nikolai’s monster is Bad and one of few remnants of the Darkling still surviving, and you get a lot of hate.

Except, ah! The more we talk about the Darkling, the more we are reminded of what he stood for!

So we have to strip him of that - we have to take his legacy and drag it through the mud. Thus, we create The Cult of the Starless Saint. They represent the Darklings legacy and status in history - were his intentions Good Enough to grant him mercy? To give him Sainthood? 

Spoiler alert: They are not. Not as portrayed by the Cult of the Starless Saint.

The Cult is a laughing stock. They don’t have a stance of the Grisha, they’re worship of the Darkling is meant to be seen as mocking Alina’s sacrifice, and the main priest readers interact with is the receiving end of a slew of jokes. They don’t care about anything the Darkling cared for, and they don’t really want to help Grisha. This is done to muddy the waters - if the people who emulate the Darkling are selfish and without cause, well... the Darkling clearly wasn’t Good. They just think his shadow powers were cool and want him to be a Saint. They exist to slander the Darkling.

So now we have separated the Darkling from his cause, and the story continues. The Darkling is Bad. He doesn’t have a legacy. His cause is passed on to others.

But (because we’re Delta airlines and life is a f*cking nightmare) it doesn’t end there. We bring the Darkling back from the dead.

*long sigh*

Resurrection? The Curse of a Second Life;

I have wracked my brain for many an evening, trying to give reason as to why we brought the Darkling back. The obvious answer is for his role at the end of Rule of Wolves - we need him to hold the rift of the Making at the Heart of the World together. However, when Leigh Bardugo introduces real Saints, he’s not needed. Suddenly, we have a slew of characters who could do the same. Furthermore, part of why this rift exists is because the Darkling was brought back. If he is both the cause and the solution, the conflict didn’t need to be there in the first place - especially considering how inconsequential it was to the narrative.

If I had to pin a reason as to why we brought the Darkling back, it was simply to further push the Darkling from his original motivation. He comes back and... doesn’t do much. He doesn’t seem to have the same care for Grisha, he has watered down character traits, and he largely does nothing. The Darkling in the Nikolai Duology is Not The Darkling because he’s a shell of the character he used to be.

Bringing him back from the dead was unsatisfying, and it weakens his original ending. As I have mentioned in other posts, the Darkling coming back cheapens whatever meaning readers gleaned from his ending. The Darkling is resurrected and he doesn’t truly seem to care about anything - which is the direct opposite of what the Darkling has been shown to be.

The Darkling has been bastardized in any appearance he’s made after The Demon in the Wood, and ultimately, it leads to a rather anticlimactic end for such a distinctive, hallmark character.

But let’s really quick establish why the sacrifice the Darkling makes at the end of this book is unfulfilling.

Because, in the final moments of Rule of Wolves, the Darkling gets his moment of penance and sacrifice - he chooses to hold the rift. It’s said he will have to hold it for eternity. You would thing that this would leave an impact! 

However, as is, this ending leaves much to be desired for a few reasons:

The Darkling has been so far removed from his character, that when he states, “Everything I did, I did for Ravka,” it feels... incorrect? It sounds like the hollow, misguided claims of a tyrant king, because for an entire Duology, the Darkling has been bastardized and has been the cause of a blight that is killing Ravka. His presence is actively killing the country he claims to serve, and as for actions, he has done very little for Ravka, and nothing for the Grisha. The last time he did anything of substance was before Six of Crows!

None of the characters present for his sacrifice have any sympathy for the Darkling. The Darkling chooses to sacrifice himself, and we get no emotional closure. Alina isn’t there to whisper his name and mourn him, and while Zoya gets the glimmer of weak pity, we have much reason to believe that Zoya mostly feels disenchanted because he will be praised as a martyr and not hated as the evil man she knew him to be (more on that here). There isn’t sympathy so much as there is bitterness and the semblance of the remnants of tattered respect shining in the dim light.

The final chapter of Rule of Wolves tells us that it’s all going to be made inconsequential in the coming books, when they are going to replace the Darkling with something else. The Darkling won’t even get his full sacrifice, because he is undeserving of a redemptive act of selflessness.

So now, where do we leave the Darkling? For two books, we have separated him from his initial cause, watered down his character and motivations, and given him ends that are largely unsatisfying. 

We’ve actually started to fix the Grisha problem, and there’s something interesting to be said in that it’s fixed by Zoya Nazyalensky, who goes up through the chain of command in a very similar fashion as to how the Darkling planned. She was a General, and then she became Queen of Ravka - the acting monarch, no less - with a beloved public figure on her arm (which, in the Darkling’s case,  would have been Alina).

So I am left to wonder - was the lesson, then, indeed, that you cannot justify evil means for a good end? Was the moral of the Darkling all along about how you must be good throughout - with good acts and good intentions - in order to make change and be revered for it? If so, why did Leigh Bardugo slander the Darkling retroactively, the way she did?

If the problem was his actions and not his intentions, why insist that his intentions were devoid of meaning, as well?

Aleksander Morozova: What We Buried;

Now, you all knew I was going to get here eventually, and if you’ve made it, congrats. We are now talking about the emotion behind the deed, the man behind the monster, the boy swallowed by the shadows.

I believe it is pivotal to understand that Leigh Bardugo has always wanted us to struggle with our feelings over the Darkling. She wanted a character that you could sympathize with, she wanted a character with humanity, and she wanted a reason for his villainy. I think that Shadow and Bone, for all of its failings, gave us that. There’s a reason why there is such a big divide over the Darkling in the original trilogy. He was a compelling character! Somewhere along the way, Leigh Bardugo lost that nuance of her own character. At some point, she resorted to stripping him of his meaning and slandering his image. 

Perhaps I am playing the Devil’s Advocate again, but I believe this was intentionally done.

Because one has to ask - why slander the Darkling? A large portion of the fanbase already hates him, so cheapening his character is doing nothing for them other than giving them sweet vindication, which is unnecessary and only disenchants the other half of your audience. There has to be some deeper reasoning. Leigh Bardugo wanted this character to be sympathetic, so why, now, does she want him to be two-dimensional?

Once more, I am asking you to think back to the original trilogy. What was the main moral? That power, no matter how good-intentioned the pursuit of it is, corrupts. What is the Darklings purpose of coming back again if not to simply have power? He certainly shows no other motive than lusty greed, after being resurrected.

And even if we ignore his lust for power, as he so willingly gives it up to Zoya Nazyalensky in the end of Rule of Wolves, we have two other corrupting forces that could account for the degradation of his character - time, and  death.

We know the Darkling to have lived for eons, and he would have continued to live on for an eternity more. There is nothing like time to truly corrupt a character’s vision, and there is nothing like death and resurrection to husk a character.

In fact, if Mal’s character did anything of importance when it comes to effecting the Darkling, it lies in the epilogue of Ruin and Rising, where it is stated that “the boy and the girl had both known loss.” Mal’s loss is equated to Alina being stripped of her power - that is the power of having died, and being forcefully brought back to life. That is a vague basis for which we readers can compare what it must have been like for the Darkling to come back - even if he is so desensitized to feeling, that he doesn’t remark on it himself.

But let’s keep chugging on.

When we first met the Darkling in 2012 Shadow and Bone, he was unfeeling. He was cold and harsh. There was something beneath the surface, yes, but there were thick sheets of ice in the way. You had to mine for it. Time had already warped the actions of his intentions. It’s expected that time would continue to do its damage, and when he is revived in King of Scars, his intentions are warped as well. He is nothing of the person he used to be other than memories and power. That is why, at the end of Rule of Wolves, when he states that he did everything for Ravka, it feels hollow - that was once true, but the Darkling has even lost that. He has the vague impression of it, but nothing you can sink your teeth into.

I think, had this idea been looked at in deeper depth, it would have been a far more compelling story. Had Rule of Wolves really dedicated itself to showing the Darkling’s conflict of his current apathy, and the knowledge that there was once a time he possessed meaning, we could have found the marrow of his arc. If the book had made an allusion to this concept, his character would have been more satisfying. But as it stands, the Darkling is just degraded in the later books, and unless you really search for meaning, there isn’t any.

And perhaps, if the Darkling had been a different character - a character who, at his core, was more unfeeling - the way we left him would feel okay.

But while The Darkling was harsh and cruel, Aleksander Morozova wasn’t, and that’s what has us all hung up on his character.

If you haven’t read The Demon in the Wood for whatever reason, do yourself a favor and read that instead of revisiting the show’s version of his villain origin story. The show made the Darkling far less compelling by showing him as the grief stricken Black Heretic, rather than the boy within. When we meet Aleksander, he is a boy who is afraid of the world, who has never belonged in it or with others, and who is, ultimately, afraid of himself. With his mother, Baghra, he has taken on a thousand names and traveled a thousand places, and all the while, he is afraid of getting too close to others because he is an amplifier and he knows that if any Grisha were to find out, they would kill him for his power.

Thus, there is so much nuance to his relationship with the Grisha. He is one of them, but he is not. To hark back to our history lesson, he is the exact opposite of the “specially Othered” character that is so often given to protagonists. Instead of acting as a go-between, he is the one person that everyone - Grisha and otkazat’sya - can come together to kill.

And as a little boy, he knows that. He knows he has to stay in the shadows, and yet, he is deathly afraid of the dark - afraid of that which sets him apart, and that which he cannot escape.

This is poignant because at the root of every great character is a singular, vulnerable emotion, and for the Darkling, it is fear. And most importantly, fear of the shadows.

When he meets Alina, we truly see the strength of their duality. We truly see why he was so drawn to Alina - why he could so easily fall in love with her, despite the years and despite the tide, and despite his fear of letting others in. She is his equal and opposite - with her, there are no shadows. There is no fear. The fact that he lets Alina use him as an amplifier is so telling of his deep feelings for Alina.

Where each reader draws the line between their dynamic - either him truly loving Alina, or him simply loving and obsessing over the idea of her - is for the individual to decide. The wonderful thing about the Darkling in his current state in the original Shadow and Bone Trilogy is that he still has good intentions within him, no matter how corrupted by his evil actions. Whether or not they truly could have been is up to each person because the question over whether or not Alina could “purify” the Darkling was never deeply explored. We will never know if she could save him, or if it would have destroyed her in the end. Whether or not you want her to try is personal preference.

Again, Alina didn’t want to fully commit to that act, and so we readers will never truly know. Luckily, fanfiction exists.

But, I didn’t name this section “what we buried” for nothing, and I think it’s important to note that even in the beginning of The Demon in the Wood, the Darkling was already on his way toward a darker, harsher existence.

Baghra, from presumably the moment he was born, groomed the Darkling to be a certain way - the same way as her, a survivor with little hope, living for the sake of living and fighting for the sake of a meal. She had no plans to save the world - it was only after the Darkling had a run in with the possibility of death that he unearthed a deep desire within him - the desire to save the Grisha. Before that, it was buried.

Before that, the Darklings' desires were buried beneath his mother’s words and buried beneath the dirt that settled over his heart like a shallow grave, because his connection to others was buried as well. Baghra did that, and whether or not she was misguided or if she was the smarter of the two is an essay better tackled by looking at her, specifically, which we won’t do here.

As we’re reaching the end, I feel like I have earned the right to be cliche and quote the Darkling’s thoughts from when he was still a boy, but already a shadow. In The Demon in the Wood, he thinks:

“My father is dust. You all are.”

At such a young age, the Darkling has already lost his grip. Already, he knew he would outlive and outlast anyone, and this heavy knowledge was already piling up, and he was slowly being buried alive in his own infinence.

It was only ever inevitable that his story would end like this - with a detached man who was once a hopeful boy, but could no longer recall what such confidence tasted like - so perhaps the tragic beauty in the end of Ruin and Rising was not that he died, it was that he wasn’t given an end.

— Special kudos to @onceupon-a-decembr​ who let me scream about this with her, and another kudos to @musicallisto​ who introduced me to a book series that I will never stop screaming about. Ever.

— tagging: @maybanksslut, @musicallisto, @catsbooksandmusic, @thefifthweasley, @thegirlwhocriedwerewolf, @amirahiddleston, @lachichapequena, @mrs-brekker15, @amortensie // add yourself to the taglist here!

[mysterytickingegos]

I’ve Created a Monster

Pairing: Darkiplier x Clairvoyant!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,480

Summary: After a bad date, you made a rather interesting friend. But better yet, you discovered something just as interesting about yourself. This something leads to a very exhilarating part of your life, but you learn the hard way that it’s not quite as glamorous an adventure as it may seem. The last person you’d expect is the one to bring you back to reality.

Anonymous Request: If I may request! :) Can I have a darkiplier x fem!reader fic with the prompts 37, 44, 45? After the events of wkm? Just some hurt and comfort to give me dem feelz 😀👍 Maybe Dark is the one saying it please? Much thanks!

Authors Note: Probably not what you were going for with the prompts but I hope you still enjoy it!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A Gif of Darkiplier from the “horror” branch of “A Date with Markiplier,” speaking to the viewer at a table, while another image of him leans away and yells. End Description]

Junk mail, bill, wrong address, junk mail...

The usual. You weren’t sure what ‘cool thing’ you were expecting to get in the mail in 2020 but the disappointment was there anyway. Just as you shut your mailbox you heard somebody coming down the stairs and cringed, bracing yourself as you hoped it wasn’t who you thought it was. But of course it was.

Your upstairs neighbor, AKA the worst date ever. “Ah, hey Y/n.”

“Hi Mark...” You gave him a sad attempt at a wave, and he gave you a nod, walking over to his own mailbox.

‘How’s it going?”

“Great, yeah...you?”

“Good.”

And with that the room dissolved into awkward silence, and you took your leave back up the stairs. Funny enough these moments used to be filled with dumb jokes and flirting, that was until he finally asked you out. You had been overjoyed, happy that someone had taken an interest in you and glad that something was breaking your dull everyday routine. Little did you know the highlight of the date would be the end. He had taken you to an expensive restaurant only to reveal that he had ‘forgotten’ his wallet (which ended up falling out of his pocket in front of you in the theater.) Then he had been upset with you for accidentally falling asleep to what must’ve the most boring Rom-com you had ever been subjected to. You both seemed to be in silent agreement that this should never, ever happen again.

But unbeknownst to you and Mark, somebody else had been lingering around. That was the first time that specific somebody had decided to visit you, making a sucky date the least of your concerns. You spent the rest of your night watching compilations on YouTube and eating chocolate Ice Cream. You kept going from sad to angry over your horrible day in your head.

Were you only worth asking out for a free meal? A meal that for you took about half your grocery budget. You should’ve given that ass a piece of your mind.

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and scarfing down even more ice cream. “Damn it.”

“Aw, don’t cry, darling. It wasn’t that bad.”

You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, scrambling away from the man now next to you on the couch. The moment your feet hit the ground you grabbed your phone and locked yourself in your bedroom. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Let’s say I'm a... friend of a friend. I thought I’d check up on you after that train wreck.” He spoke through the door. You heard a laugh layer over his voice, and wondered if somebody else was there.

“I’m calling the police!” You shouted back.

Then you heard the same voice just in front of you, clearly amused with the situation. “You’re welcome to do so, though I’m not sure they’d believe you.” It was the same man from the couch, smiling at you. You noticed how he seemed to be glitching, and how as his head tilted to the side his figure had duplicated in blue for a split second. “As I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m not exactly human.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to get to know you, Y/n. Is that so much to ask?”

The first few nights that you had stayed up a little too late and wound up speaking that deranged spirit again, you had been terrified. But soon enough you learned to enjoy his company. Sure, he could be a little unsettling at times, particularly when he was irritated and got...cold. Not just figuratively, which he was, but literally. The temperature in your apartment would drop a significant amount and you would change subjects shivering. But all in all, from what you could see behind that wall he had up, he was simply lost at worst, not exactly evil. And it was nice to not have to be so lonely all the time.

But during one of these visits, early on, you had decided to ask why.

“Why me, of all people?”

The man you had come to know simply as ‘Dark’  leaned in, lighting up as though he had been waiting on you to ask that this entire time. “Oh, Y/n. Don’t you know?”

“Why would I ask if I already knew?”

He let out an impatient sigh. ‘That’s...I was being...” He glanced up at you just in time to catch the smile playing at your lips after successfully ruining his aesthetic. “You know what? You can stay in the dark.”

“No no no, I’ll shut up, just tell me.” You turned to face him on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself.

He left you in suspense for a few moments, before dropping his voice down low when he spoke so you would have to lean closer in just to hear him. “Let’s just say you are...spiritually attuned to my world.”

“Spiritually attuned?”

“Yes, you are psychic, a medium, clairvoyant. Whatever you want to call it.” He explained. “You are a magnet to things outside the realm of the natural. A strange pair, aren’t we?”

And that was all it took, so many unexplained events from your past were now explained, and a world of possibilities was opened to you. You must’ve spent weeks researching how to harness your abilities, starting the second he left. Sure, most sites and blogs were absolutely full of it but you got the gist. With that and some common sense, how much could go wrong?

You started to take silly jobs on the internet, from old women who thought something was off with their mirrors to amateur ghost hunters who wanted a ‘consultant.’ It took you a while to gain some confidence that you weren’t just pulling this stuff out of thin air, that you hadn’t lost your mind. But after a few months, once you hit that learning curve, man it was fun.

Your latest job was a little more hardcore, a young family wanting help to push a poltergeist out of their new home. Their stories had chilled you to the bone, but you were happy to help. Your evaluation at the house went fine, nothing too far past what you were used to. Except, the entire time you were there you felt as though you had weight sitting on your chest. You could barely listen to the poor couple tell you what they experienced due to a faint scratching feeling at the back of your mind. You weren’t an expert yet but you could tell that whatever this thing was, it did not welcome you there. Worse yet, the feeling of being drained that the couple mentioned was certainly affecting you as well. Perhaps worse.

But all that accomplished was making you even more determined to rid the house of it. You took notes for your research later, tried to communicate in the most active part of the house (with no results,) and gave the couple the best advice you could at the moment.

“Until this thing is gone, it’s best you stay somewhere else.”

A few nights later, you had just finished packing your bag and begun heading for the door when you heard Dark just behind you. “Good evening, Y/n.” His voice was layered, followed by a subtle echo bouncing off the walls of your small apartment. When you turned to face him you saw he was already frowning, having realized you were on your way out. “Where are you off to so late?“

“I’m going to hang out with some friends. So I’m sorry, you’ll have to find some other way to entertain yourself tonight, instead of ya know, slowly but surely turning me into a nocturnal hermit.“ You joked, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

He chuckled, bringing his hands behind his back. “I hate to break this to you my dear, but you were there well before we met.”

“Ha ha.” You turned to leave but were stopped short when you saw that he had apparated directly in front of you.

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, starting to reach for it curiously before you stepped back.

“Nothing.” You said, a little too quickly. “Just some party supplies, alright?”

He raised his brow, no longer amused. “...Convincing. Is it really so difficult to be honest with me?”

“Oh don’t even try and pull that card, you won’t even tell me why you’re haunting that jerk upstairs.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you. “That’s different. Bringing such things to light would only do more harm than good.”

“Well, I may be wrong but...my thing is kinda the same. And I like what we’ve got going on so just let it go. Please?”

Dark stayed quiet, peeved off and clearly even more curious than he was before. Finally, he side-stepped out of your way, “Just be careful.”

When you got to the house, you were careful. Keeping lights on and keeping quiet while you did everything your research said you were supposed to. As you did, the spirit was also quiet, too quiet. And on your way home, you kept waiting for that heavy feeling on your chest to fade away.

Your apartment was freezing when you stepped out of the bathroom after your shower. Cold air brushed over your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Dark?” You called out, looking around for him. This wasn’t like him. He usually made you aware of his presence as soon as he showed up. You walked into your bedroom and when you locked eyes with another in the mirror, you froze.

This wasn’t like Dark, because it wasn’t him.

Instead, the person standing behind you was a very decrepit and very angry old woman, seemingly fading in and out of reality as she glared at you. “Y̸o̵u̶ ̴s̴h̷o̵u̶l̶d̸ ̸h̵a̵v̷e̷ ̵l̸e̴f̷t̶ ̷w̶e̶l̵l̶ ̸e̴n̵o̷u̶g̷h̶ ̶a̸l̶o̴n̸e̷.̴“

The mirror shattered and you whipped around to face her, but she wasn’t there. The air whirling around the place started to pick up, and picture frames flew off the wall at you, then other objects that had decorated your room. You tried to flee but your front door wouldn’t budge. You started to bang on it, crying in fear and praying that anyone would hear you. Next thing you knew though, you were flung towards the wall.

Finally, everything settled. The weight was off your chest, but there was plenty of pain there in it’s place. You slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position, then wiped the tears off your face with one hand and held the other over your ribs. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, waiting for something to happen and your heartbeat overpowered the ringing silence in your ears. You wanted to get your phone, to call for help but you were terrified of gaining attention again. You didn’t even really stop shaking until you heard a familiar voice.

“...Y/n?” Dark didn’t see you when he first showed up, just the disaster area that was your living room. Once had seen you, he was beside you in a blink of an eye. You didn’t even think about it before you wrapped your arms around him. He only gave you a moment of comfort before he pulled back, looking over you in concern. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

You couldn’t really get much out between pained wincing as he scooped you into his arms. “It was a -Ow- s-spirit.”

He laid you down on the couch as gently as he could, and you could see his face change from confusion to recognition to irritation. “Why, pray tell, would a spirit be here?”

“I may have taken a job to get rid of it...” You muttered under your breath.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, about to say something else before he stopped himself. Instead he moved his focus to your hand, moving it to reveal the dark bruise over your ribs.

“See, I knew you weren’t gonna like it.”

“You going off and messing with things you haven’t even begun to understand? Of course I don’t like it.” His figure glitched and layered itself in different colors before he got up and went to the kitchen.

You scoffed at his remark, trying to sit up. “Hey I understand more than you think, I’ve been doing this crap for months!”

He came back around the corner with an ice pack from your freezer in his hand. “Months?” He apparated in front of you, gently placing the pack down on the bruise, allowing you to squeeze his free hand until the shock wave from the pressure passed over you.

“I started looking into all this after you told me the truth.” You confessed. “I mean with the internet it wasn’t difficult, and I do my due diligence alright? I don’t know what went wrong.”

The aura behind him flashed pure red for just a moment, he approached his next words much softer than usual. “You can’t navigate things like this using the internet, Y/n.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d want to help me help everyone else get rid of their ghosts.”

He scoffed at you, beginning to raise his voice as the aura swapped back to blue. “You were right! I don’t understand why you would want anything to do with this, anyway. Why would you do this to yourself??” 

“I thought...I thought it’d be fun-”

“This isn’t a game!”

“You know I really don’t get you, why-”

“Of course you don’t! Do you even know what I am?”

“Well, no...”

“Neither do I.” He growled. His words truly sunk in once you saw the pain behind his eyes. He collected himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “What I do know, is that I was human once. And people screwing with things that they shouldn’t have for selfish reasons is what turned me into this. Over the years I’ve had to see other terrible things happen to well meaning people. I’ll be damned if you throw yourself into the fire for fun.”

You nodded softly, breaking the intense gaze between you to look as your hands. “...Okay.” You opened your mouth to speak again after that, but decided against it.

“What is it?” Dark asked, trying and failing to hide the impatience in his voice.

“I just didn’t think...well I really didn’t think you’d care. Well, about this part I guess-”  You sighed, cutting yourself off this time, rather than rambling.

He was quiet for a moment, placing his hand under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “I care...more than you know.” It was the silence after that, that spoke volumes, and even more so the way he moved forward to press his lips to yours. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a poltergeist to take care of.”

[justoneday-namjoonii]

color me moonlight | VI preview

☾ • I • II • III • IV • V • VI ☽

› Summary: Some flowers are not to be plucked, for their thorns are far too sharp for any hand to graze, yet, they were chosen. She shined, light radiating from the depths of her soul. She was radiant, powerful – she didn’t know it, but a creature as beautiful she could never be bad. However, he was made to consume the light. For her light was meant to dwell with darkness just as powerful, but far more dangerous.

› pairing: Taehyung x reader/OC › genre: angst | m | fluff | supernatural!au | fantasy!au | mutant!au | hybrid!au |

› release date: sometime this weekend, that’s what I’m aiming for *fingers crossed*

- Flashback -

June 10th, 1981

“Happy birthday Lenny!”

The giggly 6-year-old blew out her candles and smiled when her mother began to cut her a huge piece of cake—probably too big for her little self. The party was a nice change for the rigorous studying Jane has been doing for school. She had just proven her research case study and her senior biochemists and doctors have been wanting nothing more than to work with her in opening her own center.

Unfortunately, after getting her slice of cake and watching Lenny open her presents, she had to get on the computer to work on some things. Jane sits at the living room table while her family watches a movie with Lenny and at times like this, she wishes she was gifted with a mind that required so much work.

“Jane,” Lenny suddenly hops off the couch and runs up to Jane with her new flamingo stuffed animal, “what’re you doing?”

“I have to write this paper that explains a patients condition, I’m sorry I’m doing this on your birthday, my deadline is tonight and I procrastinated,” Jane sits back from her computer and Lenny takes a seat on one of the stools with her poofy purple tutu.

“It’s okay, you always say ‘a doctor has a big responsibility,’ so I get it,” She replies rather maturely with a sweet smile, “I’m not mad.”

“How are you enjoying your day? Did you like the canvas and paint set I bought you?”

“I love it!” She smiles brightly. “How did you know I wanted it?”

“I just knew.” Jane simpers.

“Oh! Oh! I made you something this morning, let me go get it!”

Jane furrows her brows and waits for Lenny to come out.

“Here,” She comes stumbling in with her sketchbook and sits back in her seat, “I saw him in my dreams.”

When Jane looks a the piece of paper, she is at a loss for words. It’s a drawing of a boy in a pond of wilted flowers, a murky looking forest surrounds him, and dead animals lay at his side. This is the darkest drawing Lenny has ever created and it makes Jane’s heart sink at what this dream might mean. “Wow, um...Are those dead animals?”

“Yes, he controls the air...and he takes the energy of living things, it kind of scares me a little bit...” That made Jane even more worried because Lenny’s dreams never scared her. “But just a little, he’s actually a good person. He likes flowers, trees, he especially likes the sunlight.” She smiles.

“So, um, who is he? Does he have a name?”

Lenny hesitates, eyes drifting from Jane to the photo before giggling. “Well, you should know,”

“How would I know?”

“he’s your son.”

He went to work to pick up a few things from his office, but rather than taking his usual means of transportation, he decides to take the subway. Knowing that’s what you used to get around, he hoped that just maybe he might pass you. For a moment he thought he might get recognized, but with a casual hoodie and jeans, he doubts anyone will even notice him.

The crowded subway comes to a sudden stop. People are getting on and some are getting off, he eyes the crowd especially hard, in hopes that he might see you. To his disdain, it’s just a bunch of strangers, no one interesting.

He looks around, watching the woman across from him typing on her phone. Her aura is so gold, it’s glowing transparently around her. That color could mean many different things; happiness, eagerness, jealousy, and even apprehension. It all deepened on the hue, the shade of the aura. Whenever he sees that color, his mind get’s a little foggy, and as soon as that happens, the color begins to fade and that person becomes blurred from his vision.

When he confided in is father about it, he told him to try not to look if it made him feel unwell. That’s when they discovered that his body was reacting to the aura, in what way? They never had the resources to further research it, Jane invented most of the practices that went into making him. Unfortunately, there were some things Taehyung went through physically that his father wouldn’t know where to start in trying to help.

When the subway halts at his stop, he gets off, maneuvering through the crowd so he could start his walk back to his dads place.

It’s so quiet. That’s what he first notices when he walks along the sidewalk. His eyes follow the people walking in all different directions, hoping you might be there. But he’s only fooling himself, if you were around, surely he’d feel your aura.

When he enters his dads home, he sees that he already left to start his work shift. Not enjoying the silence, he trudges over to the couch and turns the TV on. Of course, the news is on and they’re covering the same forecast for the third time today, probably. He turns a def ear to it and leans back, not feeling good enough to start working. The thought that you might have just decided to leave him, it crosses his mind. But you wouldn’t do that, would you? It seems he’s discovered more about his powers in the short time that he’s known you than he has in his entire life.

It might seem too early to say, but he feels like he needs you around. Every fiber in his body seems to crave your presence in your absence. He’s never had this type of draw to someone, not even of his loved ones, not even his father. It’s not a platonic need, not an emotional or physical need, he’s not sure what it is. But ever since you two somehow merged consciousness, he’s felt the need to go back to that part of his dreams. But he doesn't know if he can do it without you.

Selfishly, that’s one of the reason he wants to see you. He thinks that maybe, if you two can connect like that again, you’ll both gain some clarity about who you really are and what you’re capable of.

His eyes try to stay open, but he soon falls victim to sleep almost instantly.

Gasping for air, his lungs expel water and his body jerks forward. When he takes in his surroundings, he’s in what looks like a lake it’s as dark as night. Swimming to the edge, he hoists himself out of it and stands to his feet looking around for some type of familiarity. When he fully takes in the new environment, he’s in forest. Trees and plants arch up, branches and vines hanging on them, ropy and sharp edges on it. None of them bright and bushy with life like one would expect. The leaves are dark, not wilted but dull and heavy.

Cold. He’s ice cold. A sensation he’s never felt in his dreams before.

“What is this place...” He mumbles, arms hugged to his side to supply some warmth to himself. His bare feet drag on the forest floor, it feels so real, it’s hard to grasp that he’s in a dream. Curious to find out what this place is, he tries to turn back to the body of water he came from. Coughing due to the cold temperature, he runs back to the body of water and stops right in front of it.

The lake is frozen over.

“What is this?...” He gets on his knees and looks down at the now icy body of water. Rubbing some of the ice from the top of it, he looks closer and for a moment he sees a light. Something familiar, warm. When he tries to get a better look, the ice breaks under his weight, a sound that nearly shreds his eardrums before the cold abyss swallows him whole.

When he opens his eyes, he’s in a same darkness he had been in with you, and he’s completely dry, not a drop of water on him.

Warmth.

He looks around, affirming that this place looks similar, but the plants are thriving bright green, fruit is growing abundantly. Everything looks dewy, ripe—nothing he’s ever seen before.

Light. The farther he walks towards it, the more it calls him—draws him in. He’s running, he’s running towards it. The closer he gets, the better he can see a silhouette, it looks like your silhouette.

“Y/n?...” He whispers, eyes narrowing when he notices you grow further away from him when he tries to get closer. “Y/n!” Desperately, he calls your name.

Why aren’t you looking back at him, can’t you hear him?

When he manages to get close enough to the ambiance surrounding you, he can only see the form of your body, almost appearing bare. It’s obvious that he’s not making any progress trying to follow you, so he stops, that’s when you stop moving.

“Y/n...” He’s entranced in the intense glow emitting from your aura, just trying to make out your frame. Suddenly, you start to look around, head turning left to right, as if you weren’t sure where you were. All while you obliviously look around, he’s thrumming in desperation to get closer. Physically, his energy responds so strongly to you.

 He can’t take the distance anymore, he takes a step towards you and he cringes when you release a bloodcurdling screech.

Your body collapses and all he sees is darkness.

The warmth from your presence ceases, and he’s cold once again.

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [20]

masterlist

Words: 4.4k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: n/a

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Thank you everyone for being so patient again. I’m so grateful to have such wonderful readers 💙

Jimin hoisted himself up through the tree limbs, his heart feeling the lightest it had in days. Full of hope and potential and acceptance.

The bark of his father’s draeva scraped his palms as he climbed higher. The branches scratched against his face as he wove, twisted, and turned through the maze of limbs. The occasional leaf tickled his skin.

A forceful breeze rustled the tree just as the handprint burned into the wood came into sight.

Jimin heaved his strong, lithe body onto the thick branch that was just below the mark and crouched down to balance himself in the blowing wind.

Below him, he knew Jiae and Mingi were watching, hoping. For it to work this time. For him to use whatever key was inside of him and unlock the secret held within the draeva. For them to finally get answers.

With a deep breath, the half-Saeni briefly closed his eyes and did his best to do what you had suggested. To drop whatever mental wall he had constructed against the father he never knew. Slowly letting out the air, Jimin opened his brown eyes and raised his free hand. After flexing his fingers once, he then reached out.

Fingertips lightly met the black mark.

A jolt shuddered through his fingers, trailing up his hand, through his arm, and into his entire his entire body.

Jimin stiffened as he gasped in air, his eyes going wide as the jolt transformed into a surge of something.

“Hello, Jimin.” A warm, feminine voice floated into his head. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The apricot-head recoiled as his sight went blurry and began to go white at the edges. His body grew numb and heavy. He felt himself start to teeter to the side, losing his balance.

“It’ll be okay,” the voice soothed. “This will help you understand.”

Then, as his foot slipped and he heard a distant scream of his name, Jimin lost all feeling in his body.

He fell, his eyes rolling back into his head.

But all he could see was a blinding white.

Until the white exploded into a collection of flashing images... memories that were not his own.

She is nothing. Just a thought, a fleeting moment, a consciousness scattered across an endless sky.

She is formed. Gentle hands, slender limbs, and glittering eyes reminiscent of a rainbow.

She is not alone. To one side is a female with a sharp features and strength running through her bones. Sister. To the other side, a male with contemplative eyes and half-black, half-white hair. Brother. They give her a name: Illai.

She creates life. Her feet meet the barren ground softly as she radiates a soft, white light. In her wake, trees and flowers sprout and expand over the earth.

She meets a stranger. He expels an inky darkness, so different from her pure light. But he has playfulness in his ruby eyes. It draws her in.

She falls in love. Stolen glances turn to kisses and he gifts her the night, so she may see the twinkling lights in the darkness. Soon after, promises of forever are whispered in her ear.

She births children. Each of them take charge of a different season, making the world cycle and turn.

She grows stronger. From the seeds of a tree, she brings forth a race to inhabit the world. She names them ‘Saeni,’ after the tree species of which they are born. To her disappointment, she is never able to grow that tree again.

She discovers manifested chaos. As her powers grow, so do her lover’s. Death, despair, darkness. It seeps into the souls of Saeni, and it all stems from the male at her side.

She ignores her siblings’ warnings. They see it in his eyes. How his powers begin to consume him and drive him mad.

She doesn’t notice it, too lost in his touch and promises.

She watches by as peace slowly falls apart.

She watches as smoke and darkness invades the minds of all living creatures.

She watches as the playfulness behind his eyes turns sinister.

She watches as the world starts to burn with anarchy.

She watches until she finally realizes he’s no longer the male he once was.

She betrays her lover. It’s cold and damp. She hears the shaking of chains and screams of anger. She shivers. His ruby eyes hate her. She extracts part of his power as tears leak down her cheeks.

She runs.

She heals the world.

But not herself.

She makes herself remember the pain, the darkness.

She makes herself carry the piece of his heart she removed. Wisps of black smoke constantly swirl around her, bringing little bits of chaos into the world.

She makes herself remember the male that gave her the night sky and fathered her children.

The male with ruby eyes who whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

The male she loves. The male she locked away. The male she will never let herself forget.

Her dark star. Her Uzjuk.

You gaped at your best friend as he continued to kneel on the ground, his eyes still a swirling sea of changing colors.

As you blinked rapidly as if it were a trick of your eyes, you felt Jungkook shift closer to you. Stealing a quick glance at your boyfriend, you saw he had a set jaw and narrowed eyes as he warily regarded his apricot-headed brother.

Returning your eyes to the half-Saeni, you held your breath while Jiae gingerly reached her delicate hand out to touch Jimin’s shoulder and whisper his name.

Your best friend slowly turned his head to take in the lilac-haired female next to him and shook his head with a soft smile. “He’s not here right now, dear.”

You, Jiae, and every other Saeni bristled at his words. He still looked like your Jimin. He still sounded like your Jimin. But something was off. Something was not right.

It was in the stiff movements of his body, like he wasn’t used to it. It was in the way he looked at everyone, as if he didn’t recognize who you were. It was in the way his eyes were now goddamn rainbows.

“I’m not surprised you don’t know who I am,” Not-Jimin said as he folded his hands together at his torso. “This is not how I usually appear in the paintings or stories.”

Mingi hastily pulled Jiae to her feet and yanked her behind him as he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. “So, who are you exactly?”

Most of the kiela also cautiously rested their hands on their weapons, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. In Yoongi’s case, he rose to his feet and trained his lightly glowing hands on his brother. To your surprise, however, was that Jungkook did not reach for his dagger or for one of his short swords over his shoulder. Instead, he gripped your hand tighter and took a small step forward, so that he was in front of you. With wide eyes, you tried to tug him back, but he refused to move an inch.

With a huff, you peeked around Jungkook’s form and you saw Not-Jimin bow his head slightly. “I am the one who gave you all life.”

Could this wanker be anymore cryptic? What’s going on? But more importantly, what the fuck happened to Jimin!?

To mask your rising panic, you rolled your eyes at the vague answer.

Not-Jimin caught sight of your action and let out a tinkle of laughter. “Well, all of you but one.”

As your brows furrowed in confusion, a quiet breeze picked up and shook the leaves.

As the trees trembled in the wind and made the shade cast by the leaves sway, Not-Jimin closed his kaleidoscope eyes and breathed in deeply.

“It has been a long time since I was able to experience the world this way. I’ve missed it.”

Under your breath, you whispered a “what the fuck?” and raised your free hand to grip Jungkook’s wrist as you stared in heated befuddlement at Not-Jimin.

Meanwhile, Yoongi carefully observed the kneeling half-Saeni and slowly moved his pink eyes to Namjoon, who appeared to be in contemplation.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Yoongi asked his yellow-eyed brother.

Before Namjoon could answer, Not-Jimin opened his eyes and smiled at them. “If you’re thinking that I am your mother goddess, then you would be correct.”

All at once, the Saeni’s eyes widened. Jin and Hobi’s mouths dropped open and Tae even stumbled back in surprise. Yoongi let go of his magic, the hint of glowing blue disappearing immediately while Jungkook sucked in a breath sharply. Mingi gaped, and Jiae gasped as she covered her mouth with a hand. In a blink of an eye, all cautious hostility aimed at the apricot-head vanished and was replaced with shock.

What the…?

At the same time, anger bubbled up within you. What were they doing? Are they forgetting that that wasn’t their brother? That Jimin was basically gone!?

The thought had you breathing heavily, and you yanked your hand out of Jungkook’s. At the loss of contact, the male quickly turned to you with concern filling his peridot eyes.

Seeing how upset you were, he reached toward your face. “Y/N-”

“No!” You swatted his hand away, stepped back, and glared at him, the others, and Not-Jimin. “Where is he?”

The anger was hurriedly switching to panic as you were met with silence. Your heavy breaths turned rapid and you felt your eyes sting as you pointed at the imposter still kneeling on the ground.

“That’s not Jimin, so where is he!?” You helplessly peered between Jungkook and Not-Jimin as you wrapped your arms round yourself in an attempt to gain comfort.

You wanted Jungkook, no, needed him, to tell you where your best friend was. You basically just got him back, he had just told you he wanted to be normal with you again and now he was gone.

Wordlessly, Jungkook pulled you into his arms and cradled you close, whispering that everything was going to be alright. Between his quiet assurances, you heard Tae sadly call your name.

“It seems you are still confused as to who I am so let me introduce myself.” You heard Not-Jimin speak up in a patient tone.

Taking several deep breaths, you turned your head where it rested against Jungkook’s chest to glare at the person who stole your best friend’s body and voice.

“I am Illai.” He bowed his head to you slightly. “The life goddess and mother of all living things in this world.”

You raised a skeptical brow. This bitch really expects me to believe that?

Scoffing, you looked up at Jungkook, but he only gave you a tiny nod. Rearing back at his response, you looked at the others and all of them seemed to actually believe this was a goddess inhabiting Jimin’s body.

“Little scorja…?” Tae worriedly called to you again as you dug your fingers into your scalp.

Okay. Okay. Okay. So maybe a goddess is possessing my best friend. But what in the hell gave her the right to do that!?

Fury once again erupted within you as you let your hands drop from your head and you marched over to the self-acclaimed goddess.

You dropped to a crouch and seethed, “I don’t give a rat’s ass who or what you are, now where the fuck is Jimin?”

“Y/N!” You heard Jiae gasp out in an appalled manner beside you.

Ignoring her, you stared deep into the rainbow eyes that should be brown like tiger’s eye gemstones. “Answer. Me.”

Illai blinked at you once. “He’s living my past as I live his present.”

You clenched your fists and fumed internally as you breathed in sharply through your nose. Can we stop with the vague responses? Oh my fuckin-

Your thoughts were cut off as strong arms wrapped around your torso and lifted you off the ground. Yelling out, you tried to break free, but Jungkook shushed you and continued to carry you away from the source of your outrage.

As you cursed at your boyfriend to put you down, you heard Namjoon and Jin meekly apologize to the goddess, which only made your anger spike once more.

Why are they apologizing when she’s the one possessing Jimin!?

“Calm down,” Jungkook harshly whispered into your ear as he plopped down on the ground in a sun patch and held you captive between his arms and legs.

He carried your flailing form far enough from the others that they wouldn’t need to worry about you running over and smacking a certain goddess, but he stayed close enough that you could still hear snippets of their conversations.

“I’m worried and confused and mad too, fuck, you have no idea how much, but you need to calm down, okay?”

You hung your head and did your best to do as Jungkook said, because you knew he was right. You let his comforting scent wash over you and took deep breaths as he held you tightly and kissed your neck and cheek. His lips and the cold silver of his earring trailing against your skin helped distract you from your mess of emotions.

“Strange that she is not of this world, yet she shares a draeva connection with him.” You heard the goddess comment and you felt your breath hitch because she was talking about you and Jungkook.

“Shhh.” Your boyfriend nuzzled into you and you felt yourself instantly relax. “It’s okay. I got you. I always got you.”

Slowly, your breathing became even once more but you continued to focus on Jungkook and the sunlight enwrapping you. After another minute, you finally felt in control of yourself again and you murmured a thanks to the male holding you.

“Are you okay to go back or do you want to stay here?” He asked you softly.

Replying that you wanted to go back, he hummed and lightly grabbed your chin to tilt your face back toward him. After pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, he let his hand trail down until it rested over the choker at your neck. You felt your breath catch again, this time for an entirely different reason from before, and he lowly chuckled while planting another kiss on your head and heaving you both to your feet. Intertwining your fingers, he waited for you to give him a final, confirming nod that you were good before leading you back to the others, who were now all sitting on the ground before the goddess. As you rejoined the group, you heard them speaking of the draikensu and Illai was frowning at Namjoon’s descriptions.

At your return, Tae bolted to his feet and gave you a big hug. Then, he took ahold of your free hand and tugged you forward. As you sat down between the two males holding your hands, you bit your lip and swallowed your negative emotions as you looked at the goddess inhabiting your best friend’s body. Illai smiled at you, but it wasn’t Jimin’s smile. The eyes didn’t squish closed.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to speak up. “I’m sorry, though I hope you can understand my… apprehension… to the situation.”

The goddess nodded at you. “It is quite alright. I know this is not what you were expecting.”

“Not in the fucking slightest,” you muttered beneath your breath.

She regarded you with gentle eyes. “And so you know, Jimin is quite safe and will return once I leave his body.”

Jungkook squeezed your hand and you heard him exhale in relief.

“If you will allow me to, I will explain how and why I am here.”

When nobody objected, the goddess expressed her thanks. “I will try to keep this relatively short, since my time here is not limitless.

“Millennia ago, it was just me and my siblings. We existed, but that was all. We walked the earth but had no calling. We simply lived. Then one day I came across a stranger. He had ebony hair and eyes that glinted like red gems. He radiated a dark, powerful energy, but he had playfulness in his eyes and a kind face. His name was Uzjuk.”

Your eyes bugged out. Uzjuk was a god!?

“From your reactions, I take it you’ve heard of him?” Illai inquired, and you silently confirmed with a small nod.

Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment before replying, “The draikensu I had been talking of, they’ve mentioned the name before. It seems as though they follow his bidding.”

The goddess sighed as her expression dropped into something melancholic. “He’s always been ambitious and mischievous, but when we met, he was a light-hearted and caring male. He dreamed of creating a world where we could live in wonder, happiness, and adventure. He gifted me the night sky so I could see the stars. He would chase me through meadows and kiss me beneath the moon. He would hold me so gently.”

You tilted your head to the side as you came to a realization. “You loved him.”

Illai’s thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of her hand as she met your gaze, eyes still shifting colors though they seemed to be dominated by blues. “I still do. At least, the small part of him that is still the male I once knew.”

“What happened?” Jiae asked tentatively while the wind died down and created an eerie stillness.

Illai explained that it all started shortly after the birth of their children, the four seasonal gods. Her power had grown after their conception and grew further once they were brought into the world. With her increased power, she created the Saeni race. But in doing so, she unknowingly initiated her lover’s demise. While she was the goddess of light and life, he was the god of darkness and pain. Before the creation of the Saeni, there had been little for Uzjuk to have influence over, but as the population of the Saeni grew, so did Uzjuk’s power and desire to command his will over others.

“My siblings were the first to notice, as I was too in love to realize his change. But they saw it. How his eyes would turn harsh and deadly. How his power began to overpower his soul.”

The goddess went on to describe how Exia and Juufa tried to warn her about her lover. To make her see the truth. But she was blind to the chaos erupting in the world. She couldn’t imagine that the sweet, playful male she loved would ever be capable of doing such a thing.

“Because of my ignorance, so many Saeni suffered. They were consumed by his darkness and driven to kill and inflict pain upon others. So much blood spilled. So many lives taken. By the time I woke up to the truth and saw his destruction, he was no longer the same male I fell in love with. He had changed entirely. He had become twisted and corrupted by his own power.

“I begged and pleaded with him to stop it, but he would only sneer and laugh. It broke my heart. Seeing the world suffer every day because of him broke my heart. Every single day I saw him unleash chaos made me shatter more and more.

“It went on for years. Endless pleading and so much death and pain until finally, with Exia’s help, I managed to trick him and lock him away deep underground in our celestial plane.”

You all stayed still, silently absorbing her story. Not even the birds or the bugs made any noise.

Then, Jin asked in a breathless voice. “Has he escaped? Is that how the draikensu follow his orders?”

Illai shook her head. “No, he’s still locked away… mostly.”

Seeing your questioning looks, she elaborated, “I chained him, but before I left, I took a piece of his heart with me. The world has to stay in balance, meaning there needs to be some darkness and pain present. A little bit of chaos. But by having part of him free, he can sometimes claw his way into people’s minds.

“The former king’s wife is one of those who had been infected by his power. When she learned of the king’s affair with Jimin’s mother, she was so consumed with the thought of not being good enough, so torn apart and angry that her husband would go to a human for pleasure instead of her, that she inadvertently opened herself up to Uzjuk’s will. It usually happens during dreams. He will creep into your mind and try to drown you with your fears and pain. Try to make you succumb to them and turn you into his subject; a dark, violent version of yourself.”

Jungkook stiffened beside you and tightened his hold on your hand while you went still as you remembered the dream you had before the fight at the village. How you had been surrounded by inky, swirling black. How Jungkook’s face had cracked and fell apart. How you had almost sunk into the darkness.

Had that been Uzjuk? You shuddered at the possibility, feeling violated and disgusted.

The goddess continued, expressing how the Saeni who leads the draikensu must have experienced something so traumatic that it latched on to what little of Uzjuk’s power that was present and opened a rift between the physical world and their celestial plane, thus presenting the god a chance to slowly ooze out and break free from his chains.

“It would make sense why there’s so many Saeni turning dark.” Namjoon noted as he pinched the bridge of his nose in incredulity. “The rift is letting more of his influence escape.”

“Precisely.” Illai agreed with the yellow-eyed male. “And as the world turns more chaotic, even more of him escapes.”

“So how do we close it? Destroying the rift should cut off his influence,” Hobi commented as he took out a blade to nervously mess with, “well most of it besides the piece you took.”

“I’m going to guess this is where our brother comes into play.” Yoongi added as he placed a reassuring hand on Hobi’s arm.

“Yes. I made an agreement with Jimin’s ancestor. In exchange for having some of my blood run through his and his descendants’ veins, I would be allowed to temporarily take over their bodies if this situation were to ever happen.” Illai’s rainbow eyes shone brightly with determination. “If you get Jimin to the origin of the rift, I will be able to close it.”

You couldn’t hold back the quiet snort that escaped past your lips. “So all this ‘key’ stuff is that Jimin is just a fleshy Uber for a celestial being? Cool. Nice. I was hoping for a dragon or something more flashy.”

Jungkook nudged you with his shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged him right back. “Oh, come on, Coco. Even you have to admit that it’s pretty ridiculous.”

“I don’t know what an ‘Uver’ is, and don’t call me ‘Coco.’” Although he tried to sound serious, he wasn’t able to fully mask the smile teasing at his lips.

Tae leaned over and whispered in your ear, “What’s an Uber?”

“Not the time, hyung.” Jungkook murmured back before you could answer, making his brother pout.

Jiae brought a hand up over her heart as she looked down at her lap. “That’s why they’re targeting Chim, because if he was dead then there would be no way for you to close the rift and stop Uzjuk.”

You let out a long exhale. “They’ll keep targeting him for the rest of his life unless we close it. Not to mention the world will probably fall to shit if we don’t.”

“How do we find it? The rift?” Tae piped up while worriedly tugging at his headband.

“Now that I am connected to Jimin, I will be able to pinpoint the location and guide him in his mind.”

Alrighty then, back to GPS Jimin I guess.

“My time is almost up. I cannot stay for much longer without injuring Jimin’s body.” Rainbow eyes traveled over the group until they rested on Yoongi. “If you have been wondering, young magic user, how the draikensu were able to find you despite your glamours, Jimin had a tracker on him. It was old and fading out, but still very much so active.”

Yoongi’s petal pink eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out.

“I removed it so no need to worry, just be more careful and aware in the future, yes?”

The mint-haired Saeni’s jaw snapped shut and he nodded. A few sparks of blue light began to escape from his palms, giving away how annoyed he was for missing such a thing, but otherwise the Saeni remained silent. Hobi shifted and placed a hand over the magic user’s sparking ones and the light gradually died out beneath his touch.

“By now, Uzjuk will have felt my presence in the physical world and will most likely change whatever course he is on to guard the rift, so I urge you all to hurry. I apologize for the circumstances of our meetings and for causing you worry. I will leave you for now… I hope to meet you all again in better times.” The goddess spoke in a light, hopeful tone before smiling one last time.

Then, her ever-shifting eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the side.

Jimin’s body went limp and all of you scrambled over to him anxiously. To your relief, you could see his chest moving up and down, indicating that he was breathing and indeed still alive. At the sight you sagged against Jungkook, who wrapped his arms around you, and you watched as Yoongi’s hands once again flared up and pressed against your best friend’s chest. The magic user sent a pulse of magic into his body and in the next instant, Jimin’s eyes shot open and he began sucking in air deeply.

Jiae cried out his name and grabbed his face in her small hands. As if he was disoriented, Jimin blinked several times until he was able to focus on her face.

“Jiae?”

The lilac-haired female breathed out a sob and tackled the half-Saeni in a hug.

Everyone else leaned back and caught their breath, but you just stared at Jimin’s face. Taking in the brown of his irises and the squishing of his eyes as he smiled into Jiae’s neck.

He was back. Your Jimin was back.

You smiled to yourself and held on to Jungkook’s arms as the trees swayed above you.

Jimin was back. He was fine.

But everything just got so much more complicated.

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taglist: @cookied-dreams @apurpledheart @james-herondale023 @lorengarcia-yut @kittycuptea @toddsgirl27 @a-feeling-of-euphoria @treatpeoplewithkindnesshoe @kthdior @taigaajin​ @lylanie12​ @kassandravictoria​ @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

The Rook. By Daniel O’Malley. New York: Back Bay Books, 2012.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: urban fantasy, paranormal

Part of a Series? Yes, The Chequy Files #1

Summary: "The body you are wearing used to be mine." So begins the letter Myfanwy Thomas is holding when she awakes in a London park surrounded by bodies all wearing latex gloves. With no recollection of who she is, Myfanwy must follow the instructions her former self left behind to discover her identity and track down the agents who want to destroy her. She soon learns that she is a Rook, a high-ranking member of a secret organization called the Chequy that battles the many supernatural forces at work in Britain. She also discovers that she possesses a rare, potentially deadly supernatural ability of her own. In her quest to uncover which member of the Chequy betrayed her and why, Myfanwy encounters a person with four bodies, an aristocratic woman who can enter her dreams, a secret training facility where children are transformed into deadly fighters, and a conspiracy more vast than she ever could have imagined.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: violence, blood, body horror

Overview: I can’t quite remember how this book fell under my radar, but it seemed like an interesting premise, so I gave it a go. Initially, it started out as a 4 star read for me - I liked the humor, the worldbuilding, and the dynamics between the main character’s pre- and post-amnesia self. Over time, however, this dropped to a three star, mostly because I felt like the tone never changed to fit the gravity of the situation, and the mystery in general was somewhat of a letdown. Still, I think that anyone who liked more light-hearted fantasy or dark humor might enjoy this book, so I recommend reading it for yourself if you’re not into grimdark supernatural worlds.

Writing: O’Malley’s prose is fitting for the type of book he’s trying to write. It’s fairly economical, and focuses more on evoking a humorous, snarky tone than an eerie atmosphere. While some may enjoy the humor and snark, I personally found it to be a double edged sword: I liked that O’Malley kept the mood light and avoided reveling in the darker aspects of his fantasy world, but I also don’t think emotionally heavy moments were given enough weight. Characters would crack jokes or be snarky at inappropriate times, often in ways that sabotaged their own goals, and it seemed like O’Malley was trying to make scenes more awkward or funny than was plausible.

I also think there were some throw-away lines or scenes that really showcased that this book was a man writing about a woman. It wasn’t so bad that it made me want to put the book down (I don’t think O’Malley was being sexist or anything, more like he was trying to be funny and the joke just didn’t land for me), it was annoying to read about Myfanwy thinking about her breasts, or about an invasive gynocological exam (even if one made sense in context, I didn’t need to be reminded that doctors were poking around in Myfanwy’s vagina).

I do think that O’Malley made a good decision by having a lot of his infodumps take the form of a letter or “encyclopedia entry.” Pre-amnesia Myfanwy writes letters and explanations of her job, her colleagues, etc. to help post-amnesia Myfanwy make sense of the supernatural world around her. Though I sometimes found reading all these texts to be exhausting, I do think that if an author is going to provide so much background information, he/she/they should do so in an interesting way that makes sense in context. The letters and entries, in my opinion, made sense in the context of the narrative, and O’Malley also made the task of writing all those things feel like something pre-amnesia Myfanwy would do.

Plot: The main plot follows Myfanwy Thomas, an administrator of sorts who loses her memory while investigating the return of her employer’s major supernatural enemy and its infiltration into their ranks. I really liked the idea of a post-amnesiac trying to pick up the pieces of her old life while keeping her amnesia under wraps just in case those closest to her are traitors, and I liked that readers able to learn about the world along with the main character.

However, I do think that not enough suspense or urgency was placed on the plot. Myfanwy didn’t seem to be in a rush to find out who had erased her memories and who tried to kill her, and scenes didn’t necessarily build on one another in a way that felt like a mystery was unfolding. For example, Myfanwy uncovers one traitor seemingly by accident, and doesn’t really bother to press them for more information when they let slip that there’s more to uncover. I wanted to follow Myfanwy as she uncovered more and more clues, but it seemed like a lot of things were happening at random until the end, when she solves the mystery and we get several pages of monologue that explains how everything happened behind the scenes (rather than on the page). I was kind of let down, to be honest, because I didn’t feel like I was being given the opportunity to guess what was going on myself.

I also wish a little more had been done with the letters past-Myfanwy wrote to present-Myfanwy. There was a sweetness to them, as past-Myfanwy seems to have great sympathy for her future self and expresses a lot of fear regarding what’s going to happen. But mostly, the letters served as infodumps, and I wish they had been used - at least sometimes - to spur some emotional growth in present-Myfanwy, or had mirrored what was going on in the present day more closely.

I also wish there had been a little more drama at the Chequy - the supernatural organization where Myfanwy works. Post-amnesia Myfanwy seems to be able to walk in and play her part with no one the wiser, which was a little implausible given that her personality is drastically different from before her amnesia and she’s so awkward that it was a wonder no one suspected something was amiss. I wanted to be a little more concerned that someone would figure out that Myfanwy was without her memory, and that it posed a threat to Myfanwy’s life. Instead, that never seemed to be an issue, just a pretense for a lot of awkwardness.

Characters: Myfanwy, our heroine, is essentially two different people before and after her amnesia. Pre-amnesia Myfanwy is shy, quiet, and something of a Type A personality who never uses her supernatural abilities unless it’s an emergency. Post-amnesia Myfanwy is assertive, snarky, and uses her abilities more liberally. Both, however, are extremely good at managing teams and keeping track of mountains of administrative paperwork. I liked that O’Malley turned “administration” into a useful skill - I feel like too often, female characters are only seen as useful if they can fight, and while Myfanwy does some of that, she also makes clear that it is her administrative abilities that make the difference in all kinds of situations. I do wish Myfanwy’s wisecracking was turned down a little, though, as it seemed to be inappropriate at times. I also wish Myfanwy had undergone more character development; she doesn’t change much over the course of the novel, except to realize that she likes her job. I wanted a little more out of her, not just a wisecracking boss who can take charge of a situation before stumbling her way through a fairly simple investigation.

The most interesting characters, at least for me, were the other members of the Chequy. The Chequy is run by a “Court,” which is made up of highly ranked officials with supernatural powers. I liked the creativity that O’Malley showed when designing them - Gestalt is a single consciousness in 4 bodies, Aldrich is a vampire, Eckhart is a chain-smoking military veteran who can control metal, etc. I do wish more was done with these characters to make their motivations more clear or more important to the overall narrative, and I wish they were a little more intelligent (they never suspect anything is amiss with Myfanwy, and even they can’t figure out anything useful about their enemy, despite Myfanwy practically stumbling onto information at random).

Myfanwy does have some female friends that I think could have been more interesting. Ingrid, her personal assistant, is something of a confidant, and I wish more had been done with that relationship to explore things like the tension between powered and non-powered people in the Chequy. Shantay, an official from the American branch of the Chequy, also had a lot of potential, and I liked that she and Myfanwy became fast friends (though I do think they dropped their professionalism a little too quickly). I wish Shantay had stuck around longer, perhaps to balance out Myfanwy’s flaws and shortcomings. Bronwyn, Myfanwy’s sister, should have been more important than she was. Bronwyn tracks down her sister after living her entire life knowing that the government took her away, and I think there’s a devotedness in that that wasn’t fully taken advantage of. The sisters’ reunion wasn’t very emotional, and Bronwyn mainly acted as a liability for when Myfanwy was threatened by her enemies.

Speaking of which, the big bad of the book - a group called the Grafters - were hardly impressive. While I liked the idea of the Chequy going up against people who could alter bodies and create monsters that resisted supernatural powers, the Grafters seemed to be invisible for most of the book, never showing themselves but sending agents to do their dirty work. I never really understood what the Grafters wanted or why they were doing things, so they felt less like a threat and more like a simple bad group of people that does bad things.

TL;DR: The Rook has an interesting premise and some creative worldbuilding, but ultimately suffers from a lack of a driving plot and too much concern with its own cleverness.

[readyplayerhobi]

Peppermint | 01

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future light angst

; Word Count: 10.6k

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

; A/N: This is just what I’ve been writing to try and get back into the swing of things. It’s just...light and fun. Was supposed to be a one shot but it’s getting long and it feels like a good place to end as a first part! Please send me thoughts, comments and encouragements as it’s a struggle to write lately ;-;

01 ; 02

-

“And this is our main office. It’s open plan, as you can see so I hope that doesn’t bother you too much. We’ve found it works better to just throw ideas out in the open or to just get reactions so feel free to shout out if you need something. Everyone’s very friendly,” Seokjin smiles at you brightly, his thick lips turning up and making his eyes sparkle behind his glasses as he leads you into the wide open space. “And this is your desk. Feel free to decorate it however you want. Nothing will beat the car wreck that’s happening on Jimin’s desk.”

“Hey! This is artistic mess. Everything has a place and there is a place for everything.” The bubblegum pink haired man in question half stands, a finger pointing threateningly while his pearly white teeth peek out from beneath plush pink lips. You can’t help but smile, as his slim frame and cute cheeks make him look distinctively non-threatening and ruin any hope he has of convincing you otherwise.

It could also be the fact he looks like a hipster from Seattle with the thick, black plastic frames delicately placed on his nose and the retro 80s film shirt with an open black and white plaid shirt over the top. Still...he’s rather pretty and you wonder momentarily if you’ve somehow entered another dimension with astonishingly beautiful people.

Either that, or you’ve walked into the set of some reality TV show but you’re not quite willing to break the Matrix programming just yet.

Seokjin snorts and rolls his eyes, lifting a ring laden hand to brush his black hair out of them. It’s hindered slightly by the tan beanie on his head and you’re momentarily distracted once more by his impressive frame. The white shirt with the Jaws film poster on it stretches rather enticingly over his broad shoulders while his black, ripped jeans are snugly secured with a leather belt that has a Superman belt buckle.

Honestly, how were you meant to work in this place?

He’d already introduced you to Namjoon, the creator of Poppin’ Culture who oversaw all aspects of his slowly booming media empire along with Namjoon’s wife, Chaeyoung. She oversaw the HR aspect of everything and had been your first point of call before Seokjin had come down to retrieve you upon getting the call that you had arrived.

Seokjin is the editor of the Poppin’ Culture website, which is the big daddy of the whole enterprise. It had originally started 10 years ago in Namjoon’s university bedroom apparently, just posting reviews of retro films and any new films that came out.

A decade later and it was the biggest source of pop culture news, blogs and entertainment in the Western hemisphere. The website scores over 250,000 hits a day with the blogs averaging a pretty healthy number too and the YouTube channels generating a steady enough income to keep a small team afloat with ease.

His sheer love of all things cultural meant that Poppin’ Culture had expanded far beyond its original remit of film and now had something for everyone. There was the film blog, the gaming blog, the music blog, the television blog and even the book blog. And you’d heard rumours of them branching into sports with talk of a fighting blog and channel appearing soon which would be interesting.

Sports were a whole other thing in the world of things people obsess over.

Either way, you’d been rather desperate to get a job here when the opening had appeared on the job listings website for a new in house content writer. When you’d found out that you’d got it, you were pretty sure that you’d almost deafened Sunmi with your screams of excitement.

As a film major with an English literature minor, it was perhaps the dream job to combine both of your loves together and work with people who were just as enthusiastic about the world of film as you were. Your friends and family had long since grown bored of how you picked apart the latest films or their trailers, but now you would have an audience of thousands that would not only be receptive to it, but interested too.

In your earlier meeting with Namjoon and Seokjin, they’d laid out your responsibilities for you pretty clearly. Given that you were in your six month probation period, you would be expected to create two blog articles a week with the possibility of writing a video script if it was approved by the video team.

Two articles may not sound a lot, but you’d already been informed that you would also likely have to do some indepth research into the topics to provide factual information, along with making sure it wasn’t something that had been done before. Not only this, but you would be expected to be constantly scouring the internet to find new topics of interest and trying to catch the latest leaks before they even happened.

While you’d been hired for the film team, you’d been told that most people tended to dip into other areas to help out or if they had some particular interest in it. As such, you could be expected to possibly be asked to find out the Top 10 Facts About The NES or 15 Things You Never Knew About Taylor Swift or something.

Wasn’t the most scintillating of things to you, but you were willing to branch out and help if necessary. It was a small team and you understand that sometimes you’d need to pitch in when it was required of you, which in turn meant you knew that you could rely on the same help.

“Jimin is our music guy. He’s the one who usually writes the music blogs and videos but he also does the gaming stuff sometimes. Also has a regular book blog where he reviews obscure international books because that’s his thing.” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes as he leans against the desk.

Jimin’s desk is littered with piles of CD cases - who even uses CDs anymore? - along with three different pairs of headphones. He also has a ton of Funko Pop! Vinyl figures that you recognise to be musicians along with a set of Assassin’s Creed characters. You recognise them because Sunmi’s ex-boyfriend had them too.

“Really? You’re going to come into my space, and ruin my time while insulting me? Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning to find you shitting on my lawn too?” Jimin slumps back in his chair, pulling a pair of pink and white headphones over his head to rest around his neck while eyeing the taller man with narrowed eyes.

“You live on the top floor of an apartment building ‘Min. What am I? A wizard?”

“I wish. Maybe you’d wingardium leviosa your ass off my damn desk.” He grumbles, nodding his head at you. “Have you ever read In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami?”

The question is so sudden that you’re left standing with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly. You’d not read a lot of translated work in college, though you were hoping to change that. Jimin sighs and slumps in his seat, clicking on his mouse a few times.

“Fucking weird dude. Still not entirely sure what went on it.”

Before you can even respond, Seokjin is leading you over to the desk behind Jimin. This desk is even messier, only you really can see the artistic mess here. It’s covered in pencil sketches that are stacked haphazardly while a high tech looking electronic drawing pad takes up most of the space with even the keyboard pushed away.

The guy sat comfortably in the green and black gaming chair has a black beanie on his head too, only he has platinum blonde hair that covers his eyes. And what pretty eyes they are when he looks up at you; as if someone has reached up into the sky and plucked two of the brightest, shiniest stars and placed them directly onto him.

“Oh, hey. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I’m the graphic designer here...with a side passion of actual drawing obviously. I mostly use Photoshop but I like to get a bit hands on.” He talks rapidly, his voice quite deep but soft. Pausing, he bites on the black lip ring embedded in the right side of his lower lip before sitting back.

The vibrant and colourful tattoos that run up and down his arms do nothing to hide the obvious fit physique he has and you find yourself dragging your eyes away from that ridiculously broad chest. He’s only wearing a black shirt but my god.

Seokjin lets you both talk for a little, discovering that if you need anything made graphics wise then to let Jungkook know. Apparently he’s the head designer and has two more people under him; Jennie who deals with a lot of designing and Soyeon who handles their website and online shop.

You’re then introduced to Yoongi who is in charge of sound for the videos. He’s pretty quiet but friendly and bright, secluded away in the corner of the office with a soundboard in front of him, while his co-worker Lisa, a video editor, is entirely the opposite. They’re both sat on the same bank of desks, and the difference between Yoongi’s monochromatic desk and Lisa’s bubblegum pop explosion is almost amusing.

The video game team was made of Miyeon, Yugyeom and Baekhyun who all took up the corner on the opposite end of the office to you. You weren’t a huge gamer, but apparently the video game side of Poppin’ Culture was one of the most popular and profitable so you could understand why they had the largest team compared to the others.

Your desk is opposite Jimin’s, allowing you a view of him if you look to your right and it looks sparse compared to everyone else’s. The guy behind you is Taehyung and you’re pleased to discover that he’s friendly and warm with a bright box smile that makes you feel at home instantly.

Taehyung is the other content creator on the film team and someone that you’ll be working closely with, though apparently he also works with Jimin on music. From the short conversation you have with him, it seems that Taehyung mainly specialises in foreign film and you surmise that you’ll be left with most of the more mainstream options with the Oscar bait films being split between you both.

He seems enigmatic enough, with the white ribbon wrapped around his neck and billowing white button up shirt that ends with a pair of baggy, tan trousers. He’s not wearing any shoes, or socks, and you wonder if that’s a violation of something somewhere but no one seems to be saying anything.

His entire desk is full of various plants, artistic photographs in elegant frames and beautiful old film posters in miniature form. A photo of a black and tan Pomeranian is eagerly introduced to you as Yeontan, his dog and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is to show off his lil pup.

But perhaps not as excited as you when you discover that Friday’s are ‘Bring Your Dog To Work’ day. Apparently Taehyung, Yoongi and Jennie all bring their dogs and it usually ends up just being people playing with them.

Yep, definitely the best workplace already.

“Hey Hoseok, come here before you sit down.” Seokjin calls out to the late entry into the office before looking at you. “I’ll introduce you to our head video editor. He’s the one who usually helps with recording videos, then he’ll edit it all together. He works closely with Jungkook for graphics and if you write a script then he’ll work with you to see if you want anything extra added in like humourous cuts, edits and so forth. He’s got Lisa on his team and a guy who works part time, Taemin.”

The man in question almost shuffles forward, a delicate looking hand gripping the brown fabric strap of his shoulder bag tightly while he looks down at his scruffy, black Converse clad feet as Seokjin introduces you to him. He looks about the same height as Seokjin, though all you can see is a head of messy chestnut brown hair and black circular lens glasses that looks like they’re going to fall off his nose.

“Nice shirt.” You say with an encouraging smile, wondering why Hoseok looks like he’s trying to crawl through the floor mentally. He looks up at that with almost shockingly wide eyes and you almost groan out loud.

This place is blessed or cursed. You’re not sure which yet.

He’s wearing a faded Jurassic Park shirt, the famous logo sliced by ‘dinosaur’ claws, while a pair of ever so slightly baggy and ripped denim jeans are kept up by an oversized tan fabric belt, the end trailing down to his knee. A knit grey cardigan covers his arms and you find it oddly endearing how it’s slipping off one slim shoulder, obviously far too big for him.

The shoulder bag he’s carrying also has the Back to the Future logo on it and you point at it with a grin. “Great Scott! I like your bag too.” You point then at your own chest, your shirt emblazoned with the Back to the Future logo and frown as his eyes dart down before his cheeks flush bright red.

His obvious shyness just seems to make him more endearing to you, and you let out a quiet laugh. There’s an almost awkward silence for a moment as Hoseok just stands there, giving Seokjin tiny glances before he finally sighs and points to the desk behind yours. Hoseok almost bolts there, disappearing behind the iMac and you look back at Seokjin with a raised brow.

He kneels down so he’s closer, the music of the radio that’s blasting out 80s classics drowning out anything he might say to you. “Hoseok’s a good guy, he’s just a little socially awkward. A hard worker, and he’ll do anything you ask but...it’s a little hard to get him to open up. Keep trying though, he will occasionally have a full conversation with you and I keep trying to make sure he’s included so he doesn’t feel left out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just how he is.”

Nodding, you turn on your own iMac and wait for it to boot up before going through the process of getting everything ready for you to work. Given it’s your first day, Seokjin just gives you some simple tasks to go through to help familiarise yourself with their method of working before leaving you to your own devices.

It’s as you’re sat reading through the style guideline for the blog that you watch as Hoseok suddenly appears in the corner of your vision. He’s rolled over to the edge of his desk, hands flipping through the stacked letter tray there as he searches for something while he presses his lips together and blows his cheeks out. You can’t help but watch him with idle interest as he does so.

He’s definitely cute, in fact he’s more than cute. Hoseok is actually stunningly beautiful and from the side, you’re getting to see his arresting profile with ease. A strong jawline swoops in bold lines on his face while his nose is a straight slope with the gentlest turn at the end, his lips thin but full enough to look delightfully kissable as he pouts suddenly without thinking as the tiny frown of concentration causes his strong brows to fold in.

As he finds what he needs, you watch as he disappears back behind his screen before sighing quietly to yourself.

It’s probably not very moral, but you definitely had enough new material to keep your spank bank going for a good few months now. If nothing else, you should thank Namjoon for that.

-

“Did you watch Roma yet?” Taehyung asks, rolling his chair backwards until he appears in your vision. His wispy blonde hair lays straight on his forehead as he rests his hands behind his neck, letting his long sleeved blue sweater stretch across his torso. It’s unusually tight for someone who basically lives in baggy clothes; you’re pretty sure he’s even worn his pyjamas once.

Over the last three months of you working at Poppin’ Culture, you’d understandably grown close with Taehyung as you’d bonded intensely over your love of film. It turns out he was also a film major with a photography minor, meaning he was exceptionally invested in the artsy films or just films with great cinematography.

You’d already been subjected to two passion filled rants of his about Mad Max: Fury Road and Blade Runner 2049 as being prime examples of great cinematography in big budget cinema. It was okay though, as you’d already chewed off his ear about why you thought Aliens was one of the best sequels ever made in history and he’d listened with interest.

There was nothing better than someone who was willing to indulge in your long winded talks about your favourite films; from cult classics to obscure favourites to Hollywood blockbusters. Your rapport with him was so good in fact, that Seokjin had had you do a test video with him to see how well you worked in front of the camera.

The results must have been positive as you’d been given a weekly film podcast with Taehyung that talked about the week’s releases along with any news in the film world. If there was time then you both would regale viewers with your favourite films and analyse them.

So far, it was doing pretty well and you were pleased with the numbers it was pulling in. Not to mention that people seemed to like your inclusion into the videos, which was why you’d ended up in a few other videos around music or even gaming just to voice over them. Taehyung had obviously been a hit.

He had a face for the camera and you’d already jokingly suggested in many a team meeting that they should make merchandise with just his face on it. His little fan club even named themselves ‘Taes Baes’.

“No, I haven’t had chance yet. I’ve been watching The Sinner, I’ve only got like two episodes left but I’ll check it out at some point! Alfonso Cuarón makes such good films; Gravity is still amazing and I’m still mind boggled at the sheer complexity of how that must have been to film with all the CGI they had to do but I feel like Roma looks a little more stripped down.”

Taehyung is nodding slowly, biting his lip almost absentmindedly as he listens to you. “Gravity is great, but you should definitely check out Children of Men. Much better, but Y Tu Mamá También is also phenomenal if you don’t mind the sexual scenes. But yeah, watch Roma. Definitely going to be a bit hit with the awards season and I can see him getting Best Director at the Oscars.”

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me.” You muse, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your legs as you watch him now.

“Yep. And if he does win, then that’ll be his second Best Director win and it will also mean that Mexican directors have won five out of the last six. They’re killing the Oscars game lately. I still wish Barry Jenkins had won for Moonlight...way better than La La Land.” He sighs wistfully before nodding at your computer screen inquisitively, the beginnings of your latest blog post on the screen.

“Oh, I’m writing why I think Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse deserves the Best Animation at the Oscars. I liked The Incredibles and Ralph but if they win over the magnificence of Spider-Man then I will flip this table.” Pointing to your desk jokingly, Taehyung giggles sweetly.

Your desk has also changed over the last few months as well. A few cute Funko figures of your favourite Star Wars characters have popped up along with one or two more stylised figurines like your Xenomorph alien. Along with that, you’ve invested in some funky letter trays and pots to just bring some brightness to portray your personality a little more.

“I’ve not watched it yet. I know, feel free to pinch my arm. Hoseok has watched it though, he mentioned it the other day. Hey Hoseok, come here bro.” He calls out loudly, turning slightly to watch for the quiet man who spends his days on the computer behind yours.

Slowly, and adorably you might add, Hoseok’s meek face peers around the side of both his and your monitors as he stares owlishly at Taehyung beneath those outdated glasses. You’d say they were ugly, and they were, but he seemed to pull them off.

His hair is hidden today beneath a sand coloured beanie, leaving his entire face exposed and you coo softly at his tiny folded ears. It wasn’t something you’d noticed till Jimin had one day pointed over to the video editor, whispering words of adoration to you as he stared a little moon-eyed and lamented how his own ears didn’t look that cute.

It was beyond endearing, along with the slight pout his lips were pursed in. He probably hadn’t been listening to your conversation and so had no idea what was going on.

You’d noticed that Hoseok either kept an earphone in at all times or covered them with over-ear headphones when he wanted to work hard and not be disturbed. He certainly wasn’t rude but he definitely didn’t seem to be hugely confident in making conversations with people.

That didn’t stop people from trying to include him though, and you got the definite sense that everyone in the office adored Jung Hoseok and simultaneously wanted to hug him and protect him. You certainly did, and you were quite pleased that no one bullied him.

He, unfortunately, had the demeanour that would attract the attention of assholes but Seokjin and Namjoon ran a tight ship here. You did kind of wish that he got included in more outside events though.

“S-sorry. W-wh-what?” His voice is soft, the perfect mix of deep and high as he stutters out a response to Taehyung. The long sleeved shirt he’s wearing is almost salmon pink and has some generic looking cartoon on the front. It looks warm, and you find yourself lamenting the fact that you hadn’t brought a cardigan with you today.

“Spider-Man, the new one. You said to Jungkook that you’d watched it right?” There’s a moment of hesitation as Hoseok’s eyes flick to you before he’s nodding slowly. Almost immediately you grin brightly, not noticing the way that Hoseok pauses with his breath caught before his shoulders shift up to his ears.

“Oh my god, wasn’t it so good? The animation is just beautiful, it makes me want to scream. Like those cityscape shots? Could easily be mistaken for a photo if you just showed someone it. And the perfect blending of the different art styles of the Spider-People and god the music was so good. Miles is amazing and if it doesn’t win then I’m gonna Hulk out,” You pause and look at Taehyung who’s smirking in amusement. “Seriously, I don’t even know how to describe the animation. Think 3D...but not. You get me, right Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s eyes go astonishingly wide once more as you question and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he struggles to find an answer for you. He just settles for nodding quickly, reaching up to pull his beanie off and sort out his hair.

The chestnut locks have gone a bit wild under his hat and you have to bite your lip to stop laughing at how it goes all over the place, though another part of you wants to aww at how cute he looks.

“One day Hoseok, one day I’ll get you to spout poetic bullshit about a film you love.” You tease lightly, tapping at your gel wrist rest that lays alongside your keyboard to ease the pressure on your wrists as you type. He swallows audibly, causing you to laugh out loud while Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hoseok has fucking terrible film taste. He thinks Batman v Superman was actually good.” Jungkook calls out and you turn to look at the graphic designer. He’s reclining in his chair, hands over his stomach with an ankle hooked over his knee while he observes the scene on the other side of the office.

Jimin is in the exact same position behind him while he nods his head sagely and you gasp in horror, a hand to your chest as you look back at Hoseok. “Say it isn’t so Hoseok.”

The man in question looks like he wants to sink through the floor as he gives a meagre shrug. Your wail of horror has him cringing while everyone else in the office sniggers and Taehyung pats your back in consolation.

“This can’t be. Why? Is it because your mom is named Martha too?” Jungkook lets out a bark of laughter at that while Jimin creases, folding over in his chair as his forehead rests against his knees from the force of his laugh.

Hoseok attempts to speak a few more times before he frowns deeply, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “N-no. That was d-d-dumb. I just like Batman. I-i-it’s not my favourite f-f-film but it’s not terrible.”

You lean back and stare at him, raising a brow slowly as you narrow at your eyes at him. “What is your favourite film then?”

This is probably the most you’ve talked to Hoseok in the whole three months about non-job related work. You’re actually surprised he’s engaging this far, and you study him closely to make sure he doesn’t look uncomfortable or unhappy. The last thing you want is him to get upset.

But he doesn’t back down from your question, instead staring at something on his desk intently before looking back at you. You almost lean back in reaction, the intensity of his gaze far stronger than you’d expected and you’re surprised to feel a slight stirring of sexual lust for him. While you’d always acknowledge he was handsome - wasn’t everyone in this place? - you’d never quite seen Hoseok in a ‘oh holy cow’ light until right now.

“I-I-I don’t have one. B-b-but I like Jurassic Park and Blade Runner. And the Godfather. Oh, and Big Hero 6.” He adds as an afterthought, and you feel oddly proud that he didn’t stutter throughout the rest of the conversation. It was obviously just a nerves thing, but you kind of hope that he’ll get a bit bolder if you keep trying with him.

“Good choices. Solid. Not pretentious like the avant garde master here. He probably watches his porn in French black and white too.” A casual thumb thrown in Taehyung’s direction gets you the finger in response.

“It’s black and white softcore German, you heathen. No one does the group sex quite as good. The camera angles when there’s so many bodies.” He kisses the tips of his fingers before blowing them in the air, causing you to stare at him with a slightly grossed out face.

Looking at Jimin, you shake your head. “You know, I’ve only known the two of you for three months now. But I can easily see how you started dating. You with your weird music and books and Taehyung with your pretentious films.”

Taehyung gasps theatrically before smiling, fully aware that you’re joking around with him. Jimin on the other hand, snorts loudly and sticks his tongue out at you. “Hey, there’s nothing weird about my music choices. And what the hell. You’ve been listening to Billie Eilish non-stop lately according to your Spotify. And while she’s incredibly talented, I wish she’d lighten up a little.”

Turning to look at the cotton candy haired guy, though his hair was mostly hidden today by a black ball cap, you raise an eyebrow slowly. “Firstly, don’t insult Billie like that! Her songs are beautiful and soothe my soul. And also, this coming from the guy who listens to Morrissey. Unironically, I might add. Your opinion is invalid in this conversation.”

“...You know what. I can't even argue that. You right.” Jimin shrugs in defeat and sits back while Taehyung makes consoling noises at his boyfriend from his seat.

The delicate snort from behind your monitor makes your eyes widen, causing you to shift over slightly to watch Hoseok as he giggles. His white teeth peek out at you as he bites on his lower lip to try and contain his laugh.

And from how pretty and sweet it sounded, you wish he wouldn’t. The soft noises he lets out are oddly infectious, causing you to laugh in turn with a pretty dopey expression on your face and making you completely oblivious to the sly look Jimin and Taehyung are sharing.

“You love Imagine Dragons too, right? Hoseok listens to them all the time.” Taehyung says helpfully, gesturing with his chin towards the man behind your monitor.

Spinning back, you look at Hoseok with a happy grin and clap your hands together excitedly. “Oh my god, yes! I’m in love with Bad Liar right now, and Zero is so fun. I think Jimin keeps laughing at me for dancing in my seat.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond to you properly though, just nodding his head and smiling slightly as you playfully glare at the slim man across the office.

“On the subject of dating though...Hoseok. Have you ever had a girlfriend before? Or boyfriend, if that’s your thing.” Jimin asks, his tone not even slightly sly and you look at him in surprise. If he was trying to not be obvious, then he was being about as subtle as the Seattle Space Needle. Surely they’d already know this right?

As far as you’ve gathered, Jimin has been at Poppin’ Culture for four years and Taehyung for three. The two had started dating two years ago and despite your teasing, you were already confident that they were two of the cutest couples you’d ever seen.

Hoseok though, had apparently been with the company for years. He’d gone to college with Namjoon, Chaeyoung and Seokjin and had a film production degree. Namjoon had started Poppin’ Culture when he was 19, in his second year, and Hoseok had come on board once they’d branched out to a YouTube channel.

Still, you’re surprised by the way Hoseok’s cheeks go bright red and his eyes dart to you for a moment before he’s looking down at his desk once more. A wet tongue peeks out of his mouth quickly as he licks along his lips to wetten them, coughing to clear his throat before he’s looking back up at Jimin with a frown.

“Would you like the name of my e-e-ex-girlfriend? I’m s-s-socially awkward, not inept.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you look at Jimin with a ‘wtf’ look. As nice as he was, he was a bit blunt and you felt that situation could have probably done with a little more tactful handling. Hoseok looked like he could fry an egg on his cheeks and Jimin winces at the glare both Taehyung and you give him.

“Sorry man. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to insult you.” The apology is sincere in tone, with Jimin ducking his head and turning back to his work. You watch carefully as Hoseok eyes the younger man before letting out a quiet sigh and nodding his acceptance.

The atmosphere is slightly awkward now, and you’re desperate to make Hoseok less uncomfortable which is why you find yourself blurting out words you immediately want to swallow back up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve not had a boyfriend since I was 20 and I’ve not been laid in four years.”

Almost immediately your hand is slapping over your mouth as your eyes widen in horror, apologies falling from your lips like honey as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Not only are Hoseok’s eyes resembling dinner plates, his jaw dropped open in shock, but so is just about everyone else’s in the office. Well, that’s certainly one way to make him feel better about himself you guess.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Everyone, we need to be careful with her. She’s going through some tough times. Only 26 and already looking at a life of non-sexual fulfilment.” Taehyung drones deeply, his voice faux-sincere and you glare at him while pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I will delete your folder of obscure foreign films.” You hiss at him through narrowed eyes, causing him to burst out into laughter as his hand slaps his thigh in amusement.

“Oh god, you crack me up. I need to thank Seokjin for hiring you, seriously. God, get on with your Spider-Man boner before you accidentally reveal something else way too intimate for the workplace to know.” He snorts before rolling back to his own desk. The office thankfully goes back to normal after that, the low level of chatter competing with the soft sounds of today’s playlist.

Looking at your screen, you’re distracted momentarily by the sight of Hoseok still in view just around your monitor. He’s looking at you in that way people do when they’ve checked out, their brains focused on something else entirely and you watch him back in amusement until he realises.

Almost immediately he cringes, bowing his head slightly and giving an uncomfortable smile before sliding back out of view. Smiling, you shake your head and pop your headphones back into your ears as you get back to work.

You’re oddly pleased to see Hoseok stand up for himself bluntly, and you remind yourself not to baby him. He’s a grown man after all, older than you.

The flashing of your phone lets you see that you’ve got a new notification from Facebook, and you roll your eyes as you click on your screen to see what it is. What you see however has you slowly smiling as a flutter of butterflies take flight in your stomach and you tap accept eagerly.

You have a new friend request: Jung Hoseok

-

The next few weeks roll by quickly with Taehyung and you becoming inundated with awards season nominations, ceremonies and just general Oscar bait films. It had even resulted in a whole ‘Top 10 Oscar Bait Films’ video on the Poppin’ Culture Film YouTube channel which had proven remarkably popular, even spawning a sequel that was generated purely from user comments.

You’re actually surprised with just how much you continue to love your job, even with the sheer pressure of blog and video deadlines constantly breathing down your neck. And it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s because of the people you work with who make working that overtime all the more sweeter.

Jimin is genuinely hilarious and when paired up with Jungkook he becomes hysterical. Lisa has easily become your female work best friend, with the two of you Skyping all the time on your work computers and soon venturing out into the world to go to dinners, concerts and the cinema while Taehyung is an incredibly hard working colleague who always keeps a close on eye on how you’re doing.

It’s genuinely one of the best places you’ve ever worked and you thank all your lucky stars that you’d been accepted because you were pretty sure that you were making some of the closest friends you could.

And then there was Hoseok.

Jung Hoseok still remained a mystery to you and you weren’t entirely sure why you so desperately wanted to figure him out. Or maybe not figure him out, because you kind of liked how shy and mysterious he is.

The rest of your colleagues have been pretty open books and you were pretty sure that you were on the verge of receiving daily updates on Jimin and Taehyung’s sex life - you were that close with the two. But you still knew almost nothing about Hoseok and it drove you wild.

What was even more annoying was the fact that only you were apparently bothered by it too. The others just shrugged and said that he’d always been quiet and introverted, so they just made it clear to him that they were there if he wanted to talk or make friends with them. Apparently he never went out on the workplace socials and he rarely talked to others via text or Skype.

Which kind of infuriated you, because it probably was true that Hoseok preferred to be alone and lost in his world of music. But there must be something horribly isolating about never getting invited to things or never being included, which is why you kept trying to include him in your own conversations. The others would sometimes talk around him, but you always tried to make sure that he felt comfortable and included in your conversations.

Taehyung had honestly admitted in a meeting that he wasn’t entirely sure why you kept asking Hoseok things, pointing out that you might be annoying him. But you’d countered with the fact that you always gave Hoseok plenty of options to slip out of the conversation, yet he would continue it on sometimes.

It had been then that Taehyung had flushed a pretty golden pink, nodding his head as he acknowledged the fact that Hoseok had opened up more in the last few months of you being here than in the years he’d been here. That on its own had made your heart hurt. No one could enjoy being so easily disregarded, no matter how quiet and introverted.

Currently though, you were slouched on your couch with your best friend, Sunmi, as you both ate pepperoni pizza while watching Avengers: Infinity War for the bajillionth time. You, because you just loved the film, and her because she really loved Chris Hemsworth.

Honestly? Mood.

“I swear, this is the most badass entry scene of any entry scene in all of film,” You blurt out randomly, lifting your fist as Thor appears on screen in the middle of the battlefield and shouting out alongside him. “Bring. Me. Thanos!”

Sunmi snorts elegantly from your side, taking a bite of greasy pizza and chewing slowly while she eyes up her fictional man with pleasure. A hum of delight leaves her when Thor meets up with Captain America and you laugh, poking at her side.

“Imagine being in a Chris sandwich.” She looks at you and wiggles her carefully put together eyebrows before giggling.

“I wish. God, they can wreck me any day. You know, I can’t believe that you get to watch stuff like this and then write about it or make a video about it. Why can’t I just laze around and do that? Do they have an opening for me?” She pouts at you, placing the crust back in the box before wrapping her hands around your wrist and playfully whining.

You laugh loudly and take a bite of your own slice. “For what? Sorry Elle Woods, but you’re going to have keep your bending and snapping for the judge and jury. I doubt Poppin’ Culture - The Law Version will be very popular.”

“What about if I wear a hot pink bikini?” She says seriously, her face carefully blank as you give her a droll stare.

“Yeah sure, lemme give PornHub a call. I’m sure they’ve got a whole audience just waiting for their law lectures from Bikini Girl 3.” Sunmi shrieks with laughter at that, rolling backwards until her head is hitting the arm of the sofa and relaxing into the pile of cushions there.

Reaching her foot up, she prods at your thigh annoyingly until you push her away with a sigh.

“So, how is your work though? You’ve been spending a lot of time there. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. I only spend extra time doing work if I’m getting paid for it because I do not enjoy my job that much.” Sunmi sighs heavily, letting her arms fall behind her head as she turns her gaze back to your large television screen.

“Okay firstly, it was your decision to take a law degree. Your parents are assholes but they’re not dickish. They would have been fine with you being a doctor instead. Secondly, you make so much money an hour that you shouldn’t complain. You can literally buy a pair of Jimmy Choos with an hour.” Closing the pizza box, you lean forward and place it onto your wooden coffee table before leaning back and patting your stomach affectionately.

“Firstly you bitchass, I don’t make a lot because I’m still not fully qualified yet. It costs a lot to be a lawyer and the work is boring because I’m in property law. Yawn. Secondly, I hate property law but I would’ve passed out being a doctor. Blood and snot? No thanks. Maybe I should just give it all up and go back to college to become an artist.” She says dreamily and you look over at her with a raised brow.

“Do it. If it’s what you want. Your life shouldn’t be made on a decision you did based on what your parents wanted for you, as much as you might want to make them happy. They’re not your life, and you’ll burn out quicker if you do something you hate.” Sunmi just hums before shifting the pillows until she’s looking at you.

“Still. It’s nice that you’re enjoying it. I’m happy for you. I need to meet this Lisa, so you better set up a playdate or something. If she’s banging, I may just bang her. I mean, if you’re alright with that. And she likes girls.” Sunmi wiggles her brow and you laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I think Lisa swings both ways honestly, so go for it. She’s pretty and cute with a really nice and fun personality. I wish I could introduce you to Jimin and Taehyung as well. They’re funny individually but hilarious together. Urgh, I wish I had someone the way Jimin eyefucks Tae across the room.”

“Does he realise you can see that?” She asks, an incredulous look on her face and you nod with a laugh.

“Oh yeah. He just gives me an innocent smile. They’re fun though and make me laugh, it’s like a family.” You sigh softly, slumping down further into the couch pillow. Sunmi’s quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“What about that quiet guy? Hoseok right?” Pausing, you chew on your lip as you stare blankly at the screen and wonder how to describe him to her.

“Hoseok...is sweet. Quiet but sweet. He doesn’t get involved in conversations of his own accord still, but I include him and he’ll get more involved now. We even have whole conversations just him and I, particularly about our love of 80s films though they’re not very long conversations. It’s nice, I’m literally watching him become more integrated and it’s kind of annoying that everyone just let him stagnate in his isolation. Like, seriously. Did no one ever think that maybe he doesn’t get involved because people have let him isolate himself? It’s hard to pull yourself out of that, and he’s obviously trying.” You don’t even realise you’re half ranting until you see Sunmi’s bemused smile, causing your cheeks to heat.

“Anyway, yeah. He’s a lot more caring than people think too. He just doesn’t show it in ways that you or I would, nor does he talk about them. Like...the other week I came in one morning to find a tube of dissolvable vitamin C tablets on my desk. When I asked where they’d come from, Hoseok Skyped me and said that he thought I looked like I was lacking a bit of vitamin C and to take one with water every day. And then when I was feeling a bit tired, he made me a cup of green tea. I swear Sunmi, he was so sweet and adorable because he kept stumbling over his words while telling me that green tea was healthy and rejuvenating but he didn’t like the taste so he always has peppermint and he hoped I liked peppermint too.”

Sunmi says nothing for a moment and you look at her in confusion, wondering why she’s suddenly decided to be quiet. It’s not like her to not get involved in your conversations, only she’s staring at you with wide eyes and a pretty mouth that’s fallen open.

“Oh my god. You like him.” Her words cause you to pause, frowning immediately as you shake your head in denial.

“What? No I don’t. I mean, yeah as a friend. Or I hope as a friend, but not anything more than that.” She lets out a peal of high pitched laughter while sitting up, looking closely at your face with those mahogany eyes of hers.

“Yes, you do. Oh my god, he is not even remotely your type from the sounds of it yet you’re falling hard girl. Show me a picture of him.” You want to keep denying her, mind spinning from what she’s come out with as you wonder where she’s got this impression from.

But once Sunmi has made up her mind, then it’s game over for everyone else. Sure enough, you find yourself scrolling through your phone on Facebook to find a nice picture of him to show her. And as you look through his, admittedly few, profile pictures, you pause for a moment as you realise that maybe she’s right.

Only people who like someone try and find the best looking picture of them, too afraid that their friend or family member will laugh and think their crush ugly. The swooping sensation in your stomach is confusing, and you don’t know whether it’s shy excitement or just plain old nausea.

Finally deciding on a picture of Hoseok that has obviously been taken in a coffee shop, you turn the phone screen so she can see. It’s got dim lighting, and has looks to have been taken on a Polaroid style camera from the style of it but he looks good.

In fact, he looks beautiful and his bright smile kind of takes your breath away.

He’s just wearing a plain white, long sleeved shirt with dark brown hair parted in the centre, the strands laying carelessly on his forehead while those beautiful chocolate eyes stare out from behind the lenses of his glasses. The table blocks anymore view of him and yet you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your stomach slowly spread along your veins.

Hoseok’s smiles are still rare, but they’ve slowly been becoming more frequent as you continue to talk to him. And every time you think he should smile more often, because he has a face that’s made for a smile.

His mouth is stretched wide with perfectly white, straight teeth showing and the force of the expression causes his eyes to narrow, soft tan cheeks looking adorably kissable.

Oh, you’re totally fucked.

“Holy shit…are you kidding me? This is Quiet Guy? Shy Guy? Holy fuck girl. He’s gorgeous! Look at that smile, oh my god. And he has such pretty eyes, that’s just not fair. Oh, please go for him. I know I said that he’s not your type because you normally like either those hipster guys or bad boys but he looks like he’d be so good for you. He looks kind, like you’d call him and say you’re sick and he comes right over to make you food and wraps you up in a blanket before cuddling with you, telling you that you need body heat to stay warm.” You look at her with a raised brow as she takes your phone and scrolls through his photos.

“And he obviously likes you.” Her words throw you then, causing you to frown as you stare before finally asking why she thinks.

“Because you said it yourself. He talks to you, even when he doesn’t talk to the others. You’ve said he keeps conversations going with you. He added you on Facebook first and he’s taking care of you in a weird but cute way of flirting. Like I said, he looks like he’d be a good boyfriend because he’s already trying to make sure you’re healthy and okay.”

She hands your phone back and points at the screen, where a new photo of Hoseok is. It’s not from his profile pictures, so you just presume it’s one that someone took of him and tagged him in. He’s asleep on his side on a couch, his right cheek smooshed into a pillow while his other looks soft and round. Pink lips pout in his sleep, the ends turned up while his lashes remain firmly closed and his hair is all over the place.

You have the strongest urge to reach through the screen to kiss his cheek.

“I think you should think on it, because I know you. And you’re probably having a little internal argument right now about whether or not you like him. But...if you decide that you do. Then I think you should go for it, because he looks nice. Get to know him a bit more, get him to open up his walls to you a bit more and then see if he really is interested. It’s been a while since you smiled like that about someone, and even longer since you searched through their pictures to find me the most flattering.” Dammit, you knew she’d figure you out.

You don’t respond though, simply locking your phone and placing it down on the cushion next to you as you both turn your attention back to the film. But you can’t help the what if’s that float around in the back of your mind, wondering if perhaps she’s right not only about yourself, but also him.

Did Hoseok like you?

-

Quite understandably, your interactions with Hoseok are suddenly tinged with a film of awkwardness as you contemplate the fact that you quite possibly like your shy colleague. And that’s to say nothing of how closely you watch his interactions with you to see if there’s a chance that he likes you in the way you like him.

Honestly, anyone would think you were 14 and not 26.

But he made you feel like a teenager though. The fluttering of nervous excitement in your stomach whenever he would look at you with that soft, bashful smile he’d give you whenever he caught your eye in the office. The way you would feel sad resentment when he was ill or was working from home and so didn’t come in.

How could you not though? Not only was he soul wrenchingly handsome and pretty, he was also thoughtful with the few conversations he would engage in and he was so sweet and kind.

When you’d complimented him on the peppermint green tea he’d brought you the other week, you found yourself with a mug being made every time he got up to go to the kitchen. You’d be completely absorbed in your work, staring at your screen intently with headphones in to keep distractions at bay, when you’d suddenly smell the pleasant scent of peppermint drifting to your nose.

And then you’d look to your side and see a fresh cup of tea sat there, steaming slowly in your Star Wars mug.

A quick glance behind your screen would let you see Hoseok staring firmly at his screen, refusing to look at you and yet his cheeks tinging a rosy glow that made your heart tug. It was only fair to respond in kind, and so you’d taken to making him a cup of your favourite tea as well, delicious salted caramel, and leaving it on his desk.

He hadn’t complained, so you took that as a sign that he enjoyed it too.

Maybe others would look at your interactions with laughter or bemusement, but you liked them. If he was flirting with you, because let’s face it you were flirting with him, then you were quietly excited and hopeful. You could cope with glacial, as long as it would hopefully result in something at the end.

Currently, you were attempting to film a video talking about the films that were snubbed completely at the Oscars. Taehyung had written up the script for you but was suffering from a winter cold at home. You’d claim man-flu, only you’d video called him and seen the dark circles under his eyes, sallow skin and bright red nose as he’d sniffled and snorted his way through your conversation.

As a result, you’d had to grab your emergency make-up kit from your drawer and rush to the bathroom to apply it. Today had been a lazy day; meaning you were just wearing a pair of ratty black jeans and an ancient Star Wars shirt that had once been black but was now an odd shade of grey.

Once you’d felt that you looked at the very least passable to the potentially thousands upon thousands of people who would be watching your face, you rush back through the office to place your kit back before heading over to the recording room. Tapping on the door lightly, you open it up to find Hoseok and Lisa inside as they set up the camera and lighting.

Already, the big ring lights are glaring and you’re feeling hot as you move over to the two, watching as they mess with the camera before checking over the computer on the desk next to it. Lisa moves around to the front, standing over the duct tape X on the floor and clipping the tiny microphone onto her shirt while waiting for Hoseok.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt today with a yellow and black check shirt open over the top and a plain pair of jeans. For some reason, he’s apparently decided to emulate Jungkook and is wearing some tan Timberland’s as well, though they surprisingly work well with the outfit.

You’ve noticed that Hoseok isn’t exactly the most fashionable person, but he’s yet to wear something that you find genuinely offensive. In fact, you often find that he manages to look hot even when he really shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just a talent attractive people have?

Hoseok gives a small nod to Lisa as his eyes flicker up from the screen, the light being reflected in his glasses. Lisa begins to talk random nonsense, performing a soundcheck to make sure the microphone is working properly while also making sure the camera’s fine.

Once done, she helps you to thread the microphone through your shirt and clip it on while placing the main pack into your back pocket. You stand on the X while going over the script that you can read on the screen reader facing you on the table.

Lisa slips away while you’re busy practicing, going through quick vocal exercises to warm your voice up as you continue to read over what you’re going to say. In your mind, you’re already visualising what the video will look like and you kind of feel sad that Taehyung can’t do this. It’s a good script.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Hoseok’s voice is soft and light, every word sounding like it has been cautiously thought of before he speaks it. You smile slightly as your head nods forward in response to him before clearing your throat and clenching your hands a few times while letting out a deep breath.

“Am I in the right place?” Looking down at the floor, you make sure that your feet are squarely on the spot and Hoseok looks through the camera before giving a cute okay symbol with a wink and pressed smile. It causes you to bite your own lower lip, desperately keeping inside the ‘cute’ that wants to escape.

“Okay, recording in three...two…” He stops speaking after that and mouths out the final one before pressing the button to record, a red light sparking to life on the camera and immediately you’re smiling brightly.

There’s no real pressure on you to do a good take in one shot, because Hoseok will be editing the scenes together and making some shorter to suit the video anyway. But you don’t really like wasting unnecessary hard drive space for him if possible. Plus, it just means he has to stare at your foolish facial expressions for longer and you’d really rather not.

On that note, it’s a little unfair that he gets to watch your face up close with a 4K camera. Actually, you’ve never thought about that before and almost immediately your brows crease at the thought of him seeing every pore and blemish on your skin. Christ, the camera does not do anyone justice and you want to whine at the thought of him seeing all your bad points in such harsh lighting.

When you don’t actually start speaking and instead start making a distressed face, Hoseok’s head peeks out from behind the monitor and he frowns at you in turn. Eyes focusing on his pretty visage, you have to squint slightly to see him properly from behind the astonishingly bright lights set up but you shake your head to reassure him.

Rolling your head on your shoulders and blowing bubbles with your lips, completely unaware of the tiny amused smile on Hoseok’s lips as he watches you through the monitor, you force yourself to get back into the zone.

The rest of the hour spent recording goes more or less like usual, with multiple outtakes when you mess things up and cause yourself to laugh. One of the hardest things of recording videos is just being able to being able to speak properly. You’ve had to learn to over-enunciate sometimes to avoid slurring your words together, because that just encourages hate from viewers.

And you are not in the mood to get hate. It’s already hard enough being a female commentator on the channel, and you’d had to grow some pretty thick skin in both the comments and on your own social media.

But there were plenty of equally great people too in fairness, and you’d even kind of got to know some regular viewers from the constant interactions you got both on your videos and on your own Twitter account. It was nice to have a mini fan club of people who were willing to defend you against the trolls and raise you up when you’re feeling down, though it’s not nearly as many as Taehyung’s extortionately big legion of fans.

There’s only a few major mishaps this time, with a few pronunciations of your words going horrifically bad and you find yourself cringing. Hoseok has a good chuckle on occasion and the bright bubbles of his laughter make you smile in turn, heart sparking with happiness at making him laugh.

Once Hoseok gave the signal to indicate that he was pretty happy with the recording, you let your shoulders drop while your head falls back on your shoulders, a deep groan leaving you as your entire body relaxes. Reaching to pull the microphone and its pack from under your shirt, you move over to Hoseok as he turns the light and camera off before he’s checking over the computer to transfer the new video files to his solid state drive.

“Did everything look good in it?” You ask, leaning your hip against the desk while your arms cross over your chest. Hoseok pauses for a moment at your close proximity before looking up at you slowly, his beautiful brown eyes looking sweetly innocent and big as he takes you in.

It’s still ridiculously endearing how shy he gets around you, but what you like even more is how it’s only when he’s not doing work related things. The last hour has been spent with him practically bossing you around, barking out polite requests when you’ve moved out of frame or have said something wrong.

He wasn’t mean about it or anything, he just took his job very seriously and it’s what made him such a damn good videographer and video editor. He knew what he needed and wasn’t afraid to tell people what to do in regards to that, so the sudden reversal back into the meek Hoseok tugged at your heart.

“Y-yeah. You did good. Less bad shots today.” You pout at him theatrically before pushing lightly at his shoulder, just enough to make him rock where he stands.

“Hey! There’s no need to be mean. You make it sound like I’m as bad Yugyeom! I don’t mess up that bad.” Lower lip sticking out, you look down at the floor until Hoseok lets out a soft and breathy laugh, shaking his head while adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I-I didn’t mean-. I’m not saying anything else,” He looks at you and gives you a wry smile. “I-I’m not stupid. I think I’ve dug enough of my own grave here.”

You can’t help but laugh out at that as you lean forward, body moving of its own accord before you move around him and rest your hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and solid beneath your palm, even through the layers he’s wearing and you swallow in sudden awareness of the firmness of him.

He freezes in place subtly as well, the muscles under your fingers tensing a little as neither of you move for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched him, and neither of you really seem to know what to do.

Swallowing, you let out a chuckle that’s a little higher pitched than you perhaps intended but you try to make it sound as natural as you can. Even if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed now when your hand feels warm and bizarrely sweaty.

“Funny, you’re way funnier than I thought Hobi!” The nickname you’d overheard Seokjin calling him once slips out without meaning to and you cringe with gritted teeth behind his back, taking your hand off his shoulder to pinch your leg at your stupidity. “Well, I hope it goes well. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me or just when it’s done so I can look it over? Thanks and bye!”

You can’t stop how fast the words fall from your lips, a faucet stuck on full when what you really want is a vault so tight not even the crown jewels of England can get out of it. Giving him an awkward smile, you book it out of the recording room as quickly as you can and leave him alone.

In fact, you go so fast that you don’t get to see the way Hoseok watches after you with widened eyes of shock which soon melt into half-moons of unguarded happiness in the quiet room. His hand shakes as it moves up to press at the place your own hand had been, the skin feeling prickly underneath and his breath shakes as a hesitant smile slowly paints its way on his face.

You don’t see that, nor do you see the way he pauses on a close up of your face with a fond smile before closing the programme down and leaving.

[rpgsandbox]

One moment sets the course of destiny.

But what if that one moment was changed in the smallest of ways?

What if one madman's plan actually were to succeed beyond our known history?

Darker Hue Studios presents its second project:

Haunted West, A Historical-Fiction, Weird-Western, Spaghetti-Action Game.

This is a game about hope through struggle. It is a game that pieces together the stories of the largely forgotten people of the Old West, the people who have been whitewashed by history. Discover the American experience in the Weird West.

Grab your rifle, jet pack, and spurs to battle traitorous rebels in the defense of freedom, join the fight against temporally displaced dinosaurs, rustle cattle to make ends meet, and hijack a train full of illicit Confederate gold!

I hope you’ve got the grit and gumption to see this through.

Head 'em up. Move 'em out.

                                               The Train Heist

The Old West—The Wild West, The American Frontier—is one of the world’s most familiar modern myths. The time was draped in ruggedness; there was an idealized dream of freedom, and a notion that just one person could shape the world. That myth belongs to all of us. Yet so many stories of truth, justice, and the American Way have been stolen, erased, and never recorded. Haunted West aims to tell many of those stories, to shine a light on the proud people who shaped America and fought for her just as much as those people whose stories are central to widely-known American folklore.

Haunted West honors the many forgotten voices of the American Frontier, tips its hat to the Weird West genre, rides the trails with the Spaghetti and Hollywood Westerns, and drinks at the saloon with historical truths. It’s a game about our real-world history that does not whitewash it, but instead amplifies the voices that shaped the West, and thereby America, helping define the world. We’ve taken an entirely new approach to the Weird West genre in gaming, with a system built from the ground up to enable you to tell the kind of stories you want, and accurately represent the history of the Old West while running games as gritty or as pulpy as you want.

Haunted West approaches the Weird West in a unique way, riding the rails toward something new. This is fertile ground for all. Haunted West explores the true history of the American Frontier with a focus on the tales of the forgotten, unknown, and overlooked, and all through Weird-West-goggles.

When I was young, growing up in the deep South of Alabama, I would watch Westerns with my grandmother on our one television in the house. Though we weren't always close, we huddled around that TV and explored the great Old West together, and that's how my love for the genre began. The only problem? No one looked like me unless they were cast as the villain or, sometimes, the butt of the joke. Haunted West aims to change that.

In Haunted West you'll battle the Weird, take side jobs to get by, and help shape a nation one step at a time. Experience adventures in the vein of Deadwood, High Noon, Gallowwalkers, Hell on Wheels, The Magnificent Seven, The Adventures of Brisco County Jr., and more.

This is a role-playing game inspired by real-life icons such as Bass Reeves, Belle Star, Cathay Williams, Tom Threepersons, Ah Toy, Nat Love, Kate Warne, Jerome Crow Dog, Joaquín Murieta, John Henry Holliday, Lucy Eldine Gonzalez Parsons, Jackson Sundown, Mary Fields, and Fee Lee Wong.

Haunted West hears the voices of the past and amplifies them for all to hear.

"We need to haunt the house of history and listen anew to the ancestors' wisdom." - Maya Angelou

The world of Haunted West: Reconstruction begins close to our known history, but branches off a few years into the Reconstruction era following the Civil War, dropping you in the middle of an evolving historical timeline. The War’s aftermath burns bright in people's minds, no matter if they or their kin fought with the victorious North or the traitorous South.

In our known history, John Wilkes Booth assassinates Abraham Lincoln, which accidentally elevates Andrew Johnson, a Southern former slave owner, into the presidency. He goes on to fight against every change the people, their country, and fallen soldiers had earned.

Haunted West: Reconstruction creates a timeline in which, in addition to killing Lincoln, Booth's assassination plot also kills Johnson as he had originally intended. Lafayette Foster becomes President, and without presidential opposition, the Southern confederates are not allowed back in congress. The land is divided and given to the enslaved people as was actually planned in our known history, changing the power dynamic of America, with black landowners battling against traitors who are terrorizing them and trying to steal their legally-owned land.

We've worked with historians to help us imagine how that new dynamic plays out in our alternate timeline.

We think you'll love exploring the alternate timeline. As a gamer, I love world meta plots but I also like having the ability to run my own game. So in Haunted West we give you options. The game is layered, empowering you to run a purely historical game including many of the forgotten voices of the Old West, where you're more likely to die of dysentery than a bullet; or you may choose to take a turn toward the Spaghetti and Pulp Western; or, my hope is you'll want to take the ride into the alternate timeline which can be played in either gritty or pulp style—your choice.

That’s right, this is an entirely new system specifically designed with the Narrator's and players' enjoyment in mind. The system’s core mechanic is a 1d100 based system with some new twists. It’ll feel familiar and easy while having a level of complexity to appeal to old school gamers.

The rules themselves layer on top of each other for ease of use and can be applied in many ways.

Why a New System?: We created a new system to provide exciting versatility of play styles, a system that is tailored to create iconic stories of the West, and a consistent way for you to tell your stories. For me, it was important to have something fresh to empower the player and Narrator alike. The system is easy to pick up for new gamers and has levels of complexity for old school gamers looking for that. But at the heart of it, it’s built to aid in telling stories.

The Essential Mechanics: The ‘Ouroboros System’ is unique in its approach to modular play and has a number of easy-to-apply rules. The core mechanic is a 1D100 roll under system with degrees of success and failure that have different impacts. Skilled Paragons are able to invest a portion of their successes into ‘The River’ and use that portion for a later challenge when the chips are down. Each skill is associated with 1 of 7 different attributes that confer a starting percentage in the skill.

Paragons:  Paragons are our system's player characters. We chose the term 'Paragon' because they are iconic, modeling an aspect of the Old West and larger than life.

                                     Mock Up of Character Sheet

Skinwalkers, vampires, werewolves, aliens, clockworks, monstrosities, magic, and more await you here!

The Weird populates Haunted West on the fringes. People may know about it but rarely discuss it; it's not proper, and if you name it, you give it power. The Weird is rarely in plain sight and anyone that has a touched it is forever changed by it. These folks have seen beyond the horizon and understand the world is more, more dangerous, and more wonderous than anyone imagined. But unlike a Mythos protagonists, the people of the West are made of stern stuff. They don't faint or break easily.

Haunted West builds its Weird from myths, stories passed down from generations, real-world sightings, and from the recesses of our minds. We've got supernatural horrors, science fiction aliens with technology to astound, and more. Stepping out of your door into the world isn't for the faint of heart.  

                                         Artwork: Battling the Weird

Haunted West is a core book containing everything a Narrator needs to run scenarios in the Weird and Wild West. The book itself is an exquisitely designed hardcover 8.5” x 11” book clocking in at well over 130,000 words. Haunted West will be printed in two editions. The first will be available via offset printing for our US customers and the second will be available through DrivethruRPG for our overseas fans which will help to minimize the cost of shipping. Both versions of the book will be FULL COLOR! Our goal is to deliver the book to you Summer 2020.

                            Mock-up cover. Final design is pending.

This hefty tome would give any cowpoke pause from its hidden secret and arcane lore of the past. If you’ve got the resolve, I’ll tell you a bit about it and hold back a few prizes for a surprise when you open the book. Rest assured it’s not a snake in your boot.

A brief, “Howdy, partner!” We’ll chat around the campfire about history, how to apply the Weird, the horrors and wonders of the West, and the new system.

Then we sit a spell at the trading post to make some characters, what we're calling Paragons, and you'll have your choice of 10 distinctive archetypes that cover a lot of ground, enabling players to make any character they can think of. The creative posse has built a detailed Life Path system to guide character creation from your lineage, to your crew, to a few antagonists that don’t fancy your face.

Each Paragon has a couple of aptitudes making them more than a run-of-the-mill town person. Maybe they can shoot a little straighter, train horses a little faster, or rumor has it that some sawbones can bring the dead back to life.

Skills are the salt-of-the-Earth of what a Paragon can do. Qualities are those small traits that make you stand out. It could be something like striking looks, a 500-dollar bounty, or an intimidating gaze that forces any law officer to keep walking.

You can’t have the weird without a little magick. We start the ball rolling with four historically-based Western theme magicks of the time. They've been researched and gamified for those looking to meet at the crossroads to barter with a demon.

                                                     Book excerpt

We'll delve into an engaging narrative about the true West from before time until the early 1900s. Our story is sprawling with unknown visages and we touch on a lot of them, like an old friend buying the first round at the saloon. We’re storytellers crafting a tale that has never been told.

Haunted West takes the reigns and gives you all of the West, above and below to explore. Paragons may be dueling clockwork gunslingers in Deadwood, trading for supplies with the Lakota, holding the line with Texas Rangers against an unknown army, debating Southern politicians in halls of power on the East Coast, or stealing aboard steam-powered cities in the heavens. We are boundless.

The book comes primed with over 50 historical folks for the Paragons to meet, call out, run from, or with whom to posse up. These are real-life icons pulled from history, and their voices are waiting for your breath to make them live again.

See 'Methods of Play' for all the gunslinger goodness.

What kind of no-good scallywag would I be without offering a Narrator a helping hand for running games, discussing the careful economic and racial divides you’ll need to navigate? I am not alone; I've got a crew of diverse voices to help tell the tales.

Haunted West: Reconstruction is the world setting. The entire book up until now has been a historical game plus how to apply the Weird, and this section gives you over 10,000 words dedicated to the alternate timeline. In this timeline, in addition to killing Abraham Lincoln, John Wilkes Booth's assassination plot also kills Johnson as he had originally intended. The alternate timeline imagines how this new reality plays out.

The world of Haunted West is a grim place of untold horror, the supernatural, sights that shatter even the toughest gunslinger, with wonders beyond description. It is the Old West—the frontier of America—with her people arriving from every corner of the globe, seeking fortune, fame, and a moment in the sun.

The Paragons encounter rumors of some flying machine beyond description that's leaving mutilated cattle in its wake. They need the thing stopped before they go bust. But a deeper horror awaits those who follow the Aerostat.

We present over 40 creatures pulled from folklore and myths, both supernatural as well as alien, to baffle and combat your players' Paragons.

We’ll have a foldout train map of the United States, a reusable town map, and an old west hex map for miniature combat.  

                                            Artwork: Ghost Town

Kickstarter campaign ends: Fri, November 1 2019 3:00 PM UTC +00:00

Website: [Darker Hue Studios] [facebook] [twitter]

[21stcenturyhope]

BTS Imagine // Royalty!AU with Hoseok

Jung Hoseok

summary: after your entire family is assassinated, you’re forced to seek help from the leader of the rebel army

genre: romance

length: 2.2k words

other members:  Jin | Yoongi | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

Many years ago, a tyrannical king ruled the lands.

He ruled with an iron fist, often demanding high taxes of his people. He indulged in spirits and women, having little regard for the well-being of his citizens. He was a fickle man and angered easily resulting in the execution of many innocent people. The entirety of the kingdom lived in extreme poverty as both the young and old died of starvation.

Despite his luxurious upbringing, a young lord could see how greatly the people suffered. His wife had just given birth to their first child and he was unwilling to allow his son to grow up seeing such monstrosities so he began to make preparations.

On a night where the king was hosting an extravagant party for his corrupted officials, the young lord led a small group of citizens out of the city and into the mountains. He was smart enough to understand that he didn’t have the resources to overpower the king’s vast army. Any person willing and able to make the journey had been invited to join the young lord. He promised them a safe haven, far from the merciless king, where they could rebuild a healthy and happy community. And that maybe one day, they could take back the kingdom, their home, from the ruthless monarch.

And so, the mountains became a place of refuge for the young lord as he slowly began to build a rebel army to overthrow the king.

The tyrannical king eventually died as a result of his overindulgence of foods and liquor and he left behind two sons.

The crown prince had somehow escaped the monstrous influence of his father. He was a gentle and naive man. He chose to see the best in people which often made him easy to deceive and manipulate. He allowed his officials, many of whom had been loyal to his late father, to run the kingdom in his stead as his focus was on his wife and newborn daughter.

But the new king’s younger brother was a greedy man. He coveted his brother’s crown and was furious that he was being forced to bow down to such a weak-willed man. And now that his brother had an heir to the throne, he was now even further down in the line of succession.

To the king’s face, his brother was a loyal subject who offered sage advice to his majesty. But in shadows, he lured and corrupted many of the king’s officials with promises of treasure and grandeur. And when all the right people were finally in the place, the king was brutally murdered by his own brother for the crown.

~

The sound of your ragged breathing filled your ears as you continued to run through the forest. Your gown had already been ripped to shreds from the various branches but you had long stopped feeling the sting of the pain. You attempted to blink the tears away, focused on just making it through the forest and to the mountains.

When you finally broke through the trees, you wanted to hurl from the amount of exertion you had put your body through. You slowly approached the base of the mountain where a discreet cave entrance was located. Before you could take another step, an arrow struck through the air and just narrowly missed you.

“Who goes there?” a voice called from within the cave.

This was a crazy idea but there was no going back now. This was your only hope to avenge your family.

You had always been an observant child, preferring to watch before acting. Growing up, you had never liked your uncle. You knew that he coveted your father’s crown and you couldn’t understand why your father continued to let him live in the palace so close by. Your father told you that it was important to show kindness to everyone, especially family.

And now your father had paid the price for his kindness with his life.

When your uncle’s soldiers had infiltrated the palace, you were hiding behind the curtains with your mother as you saw your father’s body being cut down to the ground. Your mother had barely managed to get you into the secret passageway before the soldiers discovered your presence. She had shut the door behind you and you could still hear the echoes of her screams ringing in your ears. You knew her life had ended and it was entirely by instinct that you began running.

“I am Crown Princess Y/N. My father, the king, has been assassinated and I am here to seek an audience with Lord Jung.”

~

The sound of the door banging open jolted you from your thoughts.

After announcing yourself at the cave entrance, you were led through a series of intricate mazes within the mountains to what seemed like a private sitting room. The man who entered was young and handsome. You noticed the sword on his hip along with the armed guards he brought with him.

“Where is Lord Jung? I have urgent matters to discuss with him.” Although you were an absolute mess on the inside, you didn’t allow your voice to falter. You needed to stay strong.

The handsome man snorted before responding.

“I am Lord Jung,” he said. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for the guards to leave as he took a seat across from you. “And you’re not exactly in a position to be making demands, princess.”

Even though it was your official title, you knew he wasn’t calling you so out of respect. But he was right, you were the one that had come seeking help. With a heavy sigh, you allowed your shoulders to deflate as you apologized.

“I’m sorry, you’re much younger than I expected,” you mumbled.

“You’re probably thinking of my old man, Hojin Jung. I’m his son, Hoseok.”

“Where is your father?” Your question was complete innocent but a dark look flashed across Hoseok’s face.

“I imagine he’s in the same place as your father. He died and he spent his last days living in this damned cave because of your family,” he growled. You knew he was directing blame at you but you could hear the pain in his voice and that alone was enough to consider Hoseok a kindred spirit.

“I’m sorry, I – “

“Sorry isn’t going to bring him back, is it? So, why should I help you? I should just return you back to your uncle so he can finish the job.”

You knew he was only speaking out of bitterness and spite. But unbeknownst to him, he had revealed his whole hand and you realized that the two of you had something extremely important in common: vengeance.

“Because the enemy of your enemy is your friend. You and I both know how many people will suffer under my uncle’s rule; he’s exactly like my grandfather. I’ve grown up in the palace my whole life, I know those secret passages better than anyone. I can help you and you can finally bring everyone here in the caves back to the kingdom.”

You knew your words had struck home with Hoseok. His piercing gaze locked onto you and you could tell he was considering everything you just said.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap? How can you prove your sincerity?” Hoseok asked. You could tell that he was a man of action over words. No matter how many promises you made him, he would never trust you. You needed something bigger.

“I’ll marry you,” you said, softly. “I’m the crown princess. By marrying me, it will give you a legitimate claim to the throne. If you succeed in killing my uncle, you could reform the kingdom the way it needs to be done and return the people here back to their homes.”

For the first time, you finally saw a smile stretch across Hoseok’s lips and you couldn’t help but think how devastatingly beautiful it was.

~

Three nights later, you were wed to Hoseok in a small ceremony consisting only a handful of his most trusted men. The weeks following your wedding, you spent a majority of your time with Hoseok planning and strategizing the best plan of attack. Over the years, the rebel army had finally grown to a noteworthy size and your timely appearance seemed to spur everything into action.

The bitterness that Hoseok first showed you now seemed to be redirected towards your uncle which allowed you to admire his better qualities. He was an intelligent man and always seemed to be thinking five steps ahead in any given plan. You could tell he was a fair leader, taking into consideration the advice of all of his trusted aides. The people in the community all praised and respected Hoseok as a leader.

And even though he would deny it, Hoseok was extremely gentle with you.  

The first few nights had you working hard trying to depict the secret passageways accurately on some old maps that Hoseok had. On more than one occasion, you had fallen asleep at the table. Each time, you woke up in the comfort of your bed with Hoseok’s arms wrapped tightly around you. You giggled to yourself the first time you realized that he liked to cuddle in his sleep. You would always pretend to be asleep as he woke up so that he could pretend it never happened.

Naturally, the cordiality between the two of you phased into friendly familiarity with each other. As each day passed, you began to notice more and more about Hoseok. His laughter began to sound like music to you and even the smallest touches from him seemed to set your skin on fire. You began to long for the nights to come faster so that you could once again be in his arms. And even though you believed the two of you were married in name only, you fell in love with him. You swore to yourself that once your deceitful uncle was taken care of, you would confess your feelings to your husband.

~

The day you had been waiting for finally arrived.

Hoseok’s forces had successfully infiltrated the palace during the dead of night thanks to the helpful maps you had provided. What you hadn’t expected was that your uncle would be smart enough to surround himself with armed guards even while he was asleep. The clashing of swords had awoken the rest of the castle and a battle ensued within the castle corridors.

You knew that your uncle would take advantage of the chaos to slip through the secret passageway located in his bedroom. Ignoring Hoseok’s shouts for you to stay close to him, you slipped past the soldiers and entered a different passageway in hopes of intercepting your uncle.

That was how you found yourself face-to-face with your parents’ murderer.

“I was wondering where a spoiled little brat like you could have gotten off to. I bet you didn’t even hesitate to spread your legs for that bastard,” he sneered.

“Not that it’s any of your concern but that bastard is my husband.” You raised your sword before taking a deep breath to ready yourself.

“Do you really think you can kill me?”

You didn’t bother responding as you charged forward, his sword coming up only at the last second to block your attack. You were thankful that Hoseok had made you spend so many hours training with Jungkook. Your uncle’s old and heavy frame was easy to deal with compared to the younger man’s quick and lithe moves.

Seeing no other way, you had to move closer to the treacherous man allowing him to slice into your skin a few times. The cuts were shallow but the blood still soaked through your clothing. However, your maneuvers paid off as you finally dealt him a deadly blow and his body fell to the ground with a loud thud. The exhaustion got to you as the adrenaline left your body and you threw your sword to the floor to lean against the wall for support.

Footsteps echoed in the passageway before Hoseok appeared before you with a panicked look on his face. He rushed over to you when he noticed that blood all over your clothes.

“What happened? Where are you hurt? Where is he? I’ll kill him.” He gripped you by your shoulders, eyes frantic as he tried to identify your injuries.

“Hoseok,” you softly called out to get his attention, halting his panic. “He’s already dead and my injuries aren’t that serious, just a few cuts.”

“Oh, thank god.” He fully embraced you as he buried his face in your neck. “I thought I would lose you when you left my sight.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t let him get away.” Hoseok frowned at your words and lifted his head. You reached up to smooth out his furrowed eyebrows.

“Y/N, don’t you dare disobey my orders again. From now on, don’t even think about leaving my side.”

You grinned at his words because you knew that was about as good of a confession as you were going to get. Knowing that he returned your feelings gave you a sudden boost of confidence and you finally pulled him into a searing kiss.

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Q&A: Luke Arnold, Author of ‘The Last Smile In Sunder City’

Luke Arnold may be better known to some as a veteran performer on film, TV, as well as theater, but now he’s turned his creative energies towards a new career as a writer. His debut novel, The Last Smile In Sunder City, published on January 28th (Australia) and February 6th (UK) with it to be released February 25th in the US, so we took the opportunity to chat to him about the inspiration for his story, how he manages to balance two careers, and discovering a new love for the fantasy genre.

Thanks for taking the time to talk to us! Firstly, can you tell us a bit about yourself?

For the last decade or so I’ve been lucky enough to work as an actor on a bunch of great projects in Australia (my home) and around the world. Some people might know me as John Silver on a show called Black Sails. One of the quirks of being an actor is that every job ends so you often end up with huge chunks of time while you wait for the next gig. After finishing my work on Black Sails, I used that downtime to write my debut novel The Last Smile in Sunder City.

Has writing always been a passion and how does it fit in with your acting career?

The writing came first. In some ways, the acting was a side-effect of the fact that I was writing things that needed to be performed. My high school principal even warned me that while my writing was impressive, my acting left a lot to be desired. Nevertheless, when I was accepted into university courses for acting, filmmaking and writing, I decided that I’d start with acting and return to writing later. I thought that I’d be a better writer after gaining a little life experience and a career in acting has certainly given me that.

For me, all the creative energy comes from the same place, it’s just expressed in different ways. I’m sit on my own, bashing out a manuscript for a few months, then get called onto set to collaborate with a bunch of other artists for a while. It’s the best of both worlds.

How would you describe your debut novel, The Last Smile in Sunder City, in one sentence?

A hard-boiled detective gets kicked around an dystopian fantasy world hunting real monsters while running from his demons.

The Last Smile in Sunder City features magical beings in a world struggling to deal with the aftermath of magic being lost, which is a very unique concept for a fantasy novel! Do you read much fantasy yourself? If so, was this a deliberate response to common fantasy tropes?

Before writing this book, my knowledge of the fantasy genre was actually pretty abysmal. I cast a wide net with what I read, and I’d had a few early experiences with the genre that kind of turned me off. I’m doing my best to catch up and have quickly realised that I’ve been missing out. It’s an exciting time for fantasy and sci-fi where a lot of writers are breaking the mould of what we thought the genre could be.

This wasn’t a response to existing tropes but I wanted this world to feel as familiar as possible, so that it feels as easy to read as a mystery set in somewhere like Los Angeles. I’m far from the first writer to create a world where the magic is missing, but I hope I’m sitting in the aftermath and examining the idea in a way that feels fresh.

Were there any intentional references to real-life issues in this book? I may be reading too much into it, but I wondered if the issue with magic being lost and its impact on all the species was an analogy for climate change?

It’s hard to avoid the link between the broken world of Sunder City and what’s happening around us, but that wasn’t the initial inspiration. For me, it represents something more internal. As we get older, life can seem less magical than it did when we were kids, even when the world isn’t actually falling to pieces like it is now.

Of course, with things the way they are, I spend a lot of time wondering how to do some good in a breaking world and those thoughts definitely add fuel to Fetch’s journey.

If this book were to be adapted, what format would you prefer it to be, and why?

I think it would really suit a television show. Mystery has always works well on TV but in this golden-era of content, I think we could make something special. Indulge in all the film-noir elements and make something really unique.

The most exciting part would be letting other characters take the story for a bit. These book are all in Fetch’s head but a series would let us wander the streets with other characters and give them time to shine.

The story is told entirely in the first person. How easy was it to get into Fetch’s head and maintain his mindset the whole time? Did you ever have difficulty separating yourself from the darker, at times depressing mood of the book?

While writing the second book, I realised that I needed to shake Fetch out of my system at the end of a writing day. I’m put a lot of my worst tendencies into him, things that I hope I’ve grown past, and spending too much time in his head can drag me backwards. Luckily, Fetch will grow over the course of the books so maybe they won’t always be such dark waters to swim in.

How does your experience with acting and portraying other characters help with creating your own original characters?

It definitely had an effect but it’s hard to pinpoint exactly how. I hope that it had an effect on the secondary characters. As an actor, you become aware of when a character is making choices aren’t organic, but just serve the plot and the needs of the protagonist. Ideally, each character has their own internal world, wants and needs, so that they would be satisfying for an actor to play.

Can you tell us a bit about your writing process? For instance, the world of Sunder City is very detailed, did you figure out the nuts & bolts of its history and workings while you were writing or was there a bible that you created beforehand to refer to?

I started with some of the broad strokes in my head, but I first discovered Sunder City by letting Fetch walk the streets. It began with a short story and I had no outline, no map, no bible. I just set him off on a case and followed him around as he kicked over stones. Of course, there were many rewrites and expansions that took me to the final manuscript, and I now have a huge document with all the species, businesses, streets, histories, technologies, etc, but Fetch came first. I try not to get ahead of him because I want to use the world to best reflect his current state of mind and challenge him in specific ways.

Aside from the sequel, would you write more books in this genre or branch out into others?

I wish I had the time to write everything I want to. I hope to branch out and write something separate the Fetch Phillips archives soon. Not necessarily fantasy, but I do always like a touch of magic realism in what a write. So it will more likely be horror or sci-fi rather than anything too naturalistic but you never know.

And finally, what are you currently reading? Do you have any recommendations?

I’ve just digging into The Bone Ships by R.J. Barker which I am loving. Very on-brand with my pirate past. Rage of Dragons by Evan Winter was brilliant. In some ways, it felt like the exact opposite kind of fantasy to The Last Smile in Sunder City and I love that.

- The Nerd Daily