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softyoongiionly · 4 years

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Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again.

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll

Fresh coffee.

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.

As he remembers exactly where he is.

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter, “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.

“You’re wet.” He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi? You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

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nico-twix · 3 years

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the prisoner of my enemy is my prisoner

Hey guys, sorry if this ain't your thing, but in honour of star wars day, I decided to post a little blurb of a fanfic I've been writing!

Kylo Ren x Reader

Words: 1.5K

Tags: second-person "You", no (y/n), force choking, mind invasion, blasters, mechanic reader, a poor attempt at humour, slow burn

When the First Order raid a Resistance Base, the last thing they expect is to imprison their prisoners, but as will become common, Commander Ren makes an exception for you.

May the Fourth be with You!

“Wake up, prisoner.” Cool blaster metal digs into your arm as you are gracefully awoken.

You would be lying if you said this was the first time you have been captured, but this has been by far the worst treatment.

You’re not quite sitting or standing, and as far as you can feel—because you certainly can’t move your head to look down— you are bolted to this “seat” of kings. What you can see: grey wall, white trooper, and emo creep in the corner.

They excuse the trooper and stand in front of you. Their black helmet softly reflects a red light that is outside your vision.

“You were a prisoner of the Resistance.” Their, his, voice is modulated, but you can still pick up his annoyance. Short. Clipped.

“I’m well aware of that, bud.”

His mask diffuses what you could only guess to be a growl into static. Scary man did not like that answer. “You are now a prisoner of the First Order.”

Ah fuck. If it were possible, you would have stiffened in your binds. You have heard of the First Order—everyone has. But you knew them as the largest arms purchaser in the galaxy and had no clue who, what, or why they are how they are.

He steps even closer to you; his helmet is obscuring all of the grey walls in your vision. “The resistance wanted you enough to keep you alive. Why?”

Barely alive. Their prisoner for 100 days and all I got as food were some dry-ass crackers. “Look, bud, if I knew I would tell you.” You attempt to shrug your shoulders, but all it does is bring a dull ache.

“No, not bud.” This close, the helmet voice sounds scarier, deeper, more alive. The hairs on your arm start to tingle like they are static.

“Not bud, read you loud and clear, pal.” As soon as the word leaves your mouth, he’s got his hand around your neck.

“If I didn’t need you alive to invade your mind, I would have killed you by now.” He places a finger on your forehead as he tightens his hold further and your eyes roll back into your head. Your brain feels like it’s getting pushed out of your nose and chopped open like a Koja nut simultaneously. Your lungs burn and you are powerless to stop him. If only I had a choking kink to make this somewhat enjoyable.

Images of your life flash past, leaving you little time to process what’s going on. Finally, you see your time with the Resistance. All 100 days, although each was the same. Your guard telling you to build it. You don’t know how. You don’t even know what it’s for. The visions stop. He seems to find what he is looking for at that moment as he lets you go. You’re inhaling air faster than a vacuum cleaner as blood rushes throughout your body, black dots dancing in your vision, pounding headache wrecking your brain.

He calls the stormtrooper back in. “You can move her to a lower security cell,” he turns to look at you, “she really does know nothing. Resistance Scum.” Even against the modulation, you can hear his leering sneer. What an ass.

The trooper releases your head bindings and you can only see your interro(r)gator’s backside. What an ass.

The new cell is much better in that you have full motor control, but the good things stop there. They sure went over budget on decorating. The whole thing is painted in the same soul-sucking grey colour as before and there wasn’t even a window. I thought I booked a room with a view. All that was in there with you was a mat for sleeping and an air vent on the floor that was pumping in only what you could assume was unfiltered space vacuum it was so cold. Maker, I know I complained about the Resistance prison, but this is bad.

If you had to stay in this cell for another day, you were going to commit homicide. This leaves two options: either one, escape, or two, hope that the next trooper that walks in here has a nicely written will. One seems easier. How hard could escaping be?

Apparently very hard. You have been going at this for hours. But try as you may, your arms will never magically extend far enough through the cell bars to grab the keys off of the guard. Which leaves the vent. Vents are nice, but not the safest thing in the world. For all you know, this could lead you out into space or through fan blades or to the trash receptacle. But fuck it, Maker damn you if ever saw your “pal” again.

The vent luckily had no screws, and with just a light tug, the door flipped open unveiling a straight shot down. How far down? Who knows, not you! So, with one last look at the guard, you slid to your freedom.

You couldn’t have been sliding for more than twenty feet when you collided with more metal venting. You landed as lightly as an elephant and your ankles burned with shooting pain. You got to down to your hands and knees to falter through the next set of passageways, eclipsed in darkness and dust. Every so often, you would come across another vent opening and you would peak to observe where you were. You have passed by three trooper quarters and figured you were in their wing of the ship. Meaning that their armoury should be nearby. The plan from here on out should be simple.

Step 1: Get to the armoury

It took what seemed to be two hours to finally find the armoury and it certainly didn’t help that you got lost. Twice. You wondered how long you still have before your “pal” realizes you’ve escaped. Based on prior experience, prisoners generally get checked on every six hours, so you should still be safe. You pop open the vent door below you and fall on your ass into the armoury.

Step 2: Steal some of that zesty trooper armour.

The armoury in the dark was creepy. Every couple of steps, you would feel a solid limb of their armour smack against your legs or shoulders. Your hair even got caught in one of their belts. None of them seemed to be in your size. What am I, in the Men’s section? You duck behind a container of spare helmets as you hear the familiar schwoop of blast doors.

“Poor bastard didn’t deserve that though.” Various clicks and hisses went through the air as two troopers stripped off their armour.

“None of us do. He’s lucky he only broke his leg, gets a free trip to the med bay.” The light streaming in from the open door allowed you to see them discard their armour pieces under a “repairs” sign.

“He better not take the last blue lollipop; I’ve been eyeing it.” They both chuckled at that, grabbed new armour, and left.

You let out the breath you were holding in. You weren’t spotted, everything will be okay. You try to remember the layout from earlier and make your way over to where the broken armour was dumped. One of the troopers looked your size, so you borrow it and hope they won’t miss it terribly.

Step 3: Find their weapons stash. Walk around like a headless chicken looking for their weapons stash.

Every good escape needs good weapons. And this will be a damn good escape. It would be if you could find the weapons. I feel like I’ve seen that door before. You probably have. You’re just following the gaggle of troopers in front of you, hoping this won’t look suspicious. It definitely did. If the clocks on the walls were anything to go by, it has been around 4 hours since you escaped, meaning that you have been lost on this ship for at least an hour and a half. 1000 rooms on the Starkiller base, 1000 rooms on Starkiller. Enter one, I am so done, 999 rooms on the Starkiller base. Your slightly too large armour makes awful clicks and you pray to Maker that your hell would end soon. And then, almost as if Maker heard your pleas, you found the room you were looking for.

Step 4: Escape!

The weapons room was more like a weapons sanctuary. All along the walls, beautiful blasters polished to perfection, and yet they had some of the worst specs you’ve ever seen. This is outrageous! They expect me to escape with a blaster pistol? It’s not even modded.

What used to look divine, now just looks pathetic. You huff, having taken offence at their poor supply, and “borrow” a couple of weapons from the shelves, a repeater here, a stun baton there, and a trusty set of standard-issue repair tools. With precision unmatched by even the finest droids, you get to work, soldering and welding, stripping and joining, and hoping and praying that what you have only tested out in dreams would work.

And you might have been able to test it, had the blast doors stayed shut.

Step 4b: do not get caught. It’s a little late for that

“Trooper, report.”

Please let me know what you think and if there are any mistakes! This blurb is available on AO3 if you want to subscribe for more updates!

#kylo x you #kylo ren #ben solo #drabble #prison break #force choke #star wars #sequel trilogy #may the fourth be with you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #slow burn #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers

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oosteven-universe · 3 years

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Phenom X #1

Phenom X #1 Image Comics 2021 Script/Plot by John Leguizamo, Aram Rappaport Joe Miciak & Damian Slattery Illustrated by Chris Batista Inked by Sabrina Cintrón Coloured by Christopher Sotomayor Lettered by Andworld Design Wrongfully imprisoned and desperate to regain his freedom, Max Gomez agrees to become a subject in an underground government experiment. When the trial gives him phenomenal shape-shifting abilities, Gomez learns his new “freedom” requires surviving a superpowered war fought on the streets of NYC. Alright this is cute. The opening is eye-catching and while Max does break the fourth wall, I could have done without that, it piques the curiosity about what’s going on. Then to flashback and start at the beginning which will eventually take us to the present well it’s a good solid tactic. I’m not so sure I like the distinction in genetic make-up that is being touted here, the idea of being irradiated and building a resistance to that makes much more sense considering all the illegal waste dumping that happens annually. I just don’t like the idea of a genetic difference so that folks can “legit” use that they are superior. It rankles my feathers. Aside from that I think that this has some great promise to it and that these candidates that have the right circumstances to gain abilities will make for some interesting reading. I like the way that this is being told. The story & plot development that we see through how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information is presented exceedingly well. The character development that we see through the narration, the dialogue, the character interaction as well as how we see them act and react to the situations and circumstances which they encounter spotlights their emerging personalities extremely well. The pacing is excellent and as it takes us through the pages introducing the characters, the story and the world they live in to us the more we want to see. I like how we see this being structured and how the layers within the story begin to emerge, grow and evolve. The layers within the story work to open up new avenues to be explored and while some will be and others won’t be, they all add some nice depth, dimension and complexity to this story. How we see everything working together to create the story’s ebb & flow as well as how it moves the story forward are extremely well achieved. The interiors here are bloody fantastic! Gosh the linework is exquisite and how the varying weights and techniques are being utilised to create this level & quality within the attention to detail throughout is extraordinary to see. That we see backgrounds being utilised as they are and how they enhance and expand the moments while also working within the composition of the panels to bring out the depth perception, sense of scale and the overall sense of size and scope to the story is exceptionally well handled. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show a remarkably talented eye for storytelling. The various hues and tones within the colours being utilised to create the shading, highlights and shadow work show a sensational eye for colour and how it works. I like the boldness and the subtlety that we see throughout the book and then there are moments that stand out because they just look badarse. I’m not thrilled with the Amanda Waller knock off and that she basically made sure Max had no options but hers was the worst underhanded mishegas I’ve ever seen. She’s not a good guy no matter how much you dress it up otherwise, nope don’t trust this one. Still she’s a good motivator to expose the whole thing and put her arse behind bars. This has some strong, intense and interesting writing, some familiar characterisation and these mind blowing interiors, yeah if this continues like this it’s going to be a pretty strong and interesting series.

#Comic Books #Comics Reviews #Image Comics

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bubmyg · 4 years

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footnote: better together - ksj

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre/warnings: neighbor!au, strangers to enemies to lovers, fluff, sugar glider fun, seokjin has a collection of stationary and alpaca statues, cheesy holiday goodness

word count: 10,935

summary: the tale of semi friendly notes exchanged passive aggressively between a pair of neighbors until they’re no longer threatening to blackmail one with voice memos of the other singing justin bieber in the shower or the one where you’re alone in your apartment complex and holiday activities are done better together

a/n: happy holidays and happy late birthday to mistre seokjinnie!!!!

Kim Seokjin had a way with delivering words. You’d, quite literally, discovered that hour one of indirect interaction with him.

Three weeks and the newness of your apartment had started to fade, your decorations hung at slightly crooked angles from your pattered meanderings around the vicinity of your space, laundry dangling out of the hamper rather than meticulous stuffed inside, snacks now scrawled on a list pasted to the front of your fridge where their once full wrappers were hidden in the depths of your trash can. Muscle memory started to carry your legs up the back staircases and through narrow hallways for your apartment, passing by familiar decorations hung on the outside of doors and the occasional familiar face whose schedule happened to coincide somehow with yours.

It was in a similar fashion that you assumed you had no neighbor directly next to you. The walls were paper thin as the individual across from you took great privilege in letting their door crash shut every time they opened it at four in the morning and from your limited knowledge of building layouts and the way yours slotted nicely to the neighboring apartment, you assumed that if you did have a neighbor, you would have heard them in their bathroom at least once at this point.

You hadn’t. Not one noise.

Three weeks into newness fading from your apartment meant built up grime in varying degrees was starting to plague your apartment, thus, time for the first weekend day dedicated entirely to scrubbing into crevices of tile and wood. The earbuds snug in your ears played some tune, something you vaguely recognized from the radio as you hummed absently to it in meandering into your bathroom to grab another wipe from the yellow cylinder perched on the counter.

The pop of the lid opening and closing registered louder over the sound of your earbuds but it was the melody of something that didn’t at all match the music contained only to your ears that caused you to pause, disinfectant wipe dangling from the pinch of your thumb and index finger as you glanced around the small space. With your free hand, you clicked at the tiny white control dangling off your earbuds to silence your music, squinting as if the narrowing of your sight would help your ears pick up the source of the noise.

Seeping between the drywall was the voice of Justin Bieber, or rather, the lyrics over a Justin Bieber track but the voice pitched higher, dramatic clearly for the fact that this water was in the shower but with a hint of training, melodious and mesmerizing to an extent.

If only that voice weren’t loud as fuck.

You tried to ignore it by tapping your volume up a notch and clicking to a playlist of songs that were just a fraction louder than before. And for the most part, you did forget about the actions of your apparent new neighbor while you scrubbed down the cheap countertops in your kitchen and piled trash bags near the door to take down to the dumpster when it wasn’t dark and less than ten degrees outside.

The volume in your ears sank as the sag of your couch cushions swallowed your stature, allowing your muscles to relax as you paused your music and let your eyes close for a moment of peace. Except there was the patter of water that wasn’t rain or snow or any type of precipitation coating the window beyond your cheap curtains but instead your neighbor still showering. With a groan, your thumb tapped at your phone screen a few times.

Taehyung answered half a ring in, “Can’t talk right now, just let the water for my ramen boil over—”

“Wait, did you actually?”

“No,” You heard a vague, high pitched laugh, “For what do I owe the pleasure of your correspondence?”

“I have a new neighbor.”

“Awe, did your landlord spoil the surprise? It’s me!”

You rolled your eyes, “Were you belting Justin Bieber in the shower earlier?”

“How’d you know?”

“Tae—”

“No, I wasn’t. I’m offended you’d even think that of me.”

“Someone must have moved into the empty apartment next to me while I was at work last night. And they are a better singer than Justin Bieber.”

“Not hard to accomplish that, dove—”

“What do I do? It was funny for like two seconds but I can’t deal with that all the time every night.”

Taehyung scoffed noisily with his lips, “I don’t know. Tell the front desk?”

“Hoseok will be of absolutely no assistance,” You blinked at the far wall from your couch as one of the decorative picture frames you had hung from a command strip began to shake a bit. Popping out an earbud, you found muffled shower sounds replaced with the slam of bathroom cabinets and the uninhibited sound of music, something you vaguely recognized from your previous, radio friendly playlist. “I guess I’ll just hope that it’s the new environment thing running its course. Hopefully I won’t have to experience a terrible concert every time my neighbor wants to shower…”

“I hope that for you as well…” Your best friend trailed off on the other end, “I was partially kidding about the water thing so I kind of have to go...but definitely call me if you have anymore juicy updates on the new neighbor. Maybe I’ll come over sometime and experience it for myself.”

“Go tend to your ramen mess and don’t make Yoongi clean it all up,” Taehyung made another noise of indignation before you signed off with a soft bye, tapping the end button on your phone with another slipping sigh.

You stared at the wall until the popular radio tunes had faded, just a noise but nothing distinguishable as the new tenant had evidently moved out of the bathroom. You had half the mind to connect a bluetooth speaker to your laptop and blast something off of one of your albeit embarrassing playlists but you didn’t feel petty enough for your neighbor’s first night so you gathered your clothes and fiddled at the creaky dial on your shower in silent peace.

The damp towel hung loosely from your neck as you wandered back into the hallway, humming something in place of music but pausing the noise and your steps when something white fluttered underneath your front door. Squinting, you tugged the towel a bit tighter and gripped onto the baggy center of your hoodie as you crouched to swipe up the piece of paper.

It was patterned stationery, a step below cardstock maybe with purposeful, cloudy puffs of grey sprinkled throughout the slightly offwhite paper. Elegant paper, if paper could be elegant, ruined by the messy scrawl of a bleeding black pen, lettings pinched and scrunched to the top half of the paper when they easily could have stretched throughout. In fact, the only thing on the bottom half of the paper was a signature line, spread out and blocky.

Hey, your new neighbor here...if you haven’t noticed, the walls are a bit thing. If you could keep it down when you’re on the phone, that’d be really helpful. Wouldn’t want to have to tell the front desk, you know? Have a nice (quiet) night! - Kim Seokjin (or...your new neighbor).

Your handwriting turned out equal in horrendous quality as your shaking hand etched across a piece of notebook paper you yanked out of a drawer in the kitchen. Seokjin’s note fluttered sadly to the floor as you passed where you’d slammed it down on the edge of your kitchen counter, nearly crumpling the return letter in hand as you retched open your apartment door.

Hey, your neighbor here. I’ll keep that in mind but I’d say you should probably heed your own advice. Wouldn’t want to broadcast a voice memo of you singing 2013 Justin Bieber to the entire building, now would we? Have a nice (quiet!) existence - your neighbor (I don’t think you’ve earned my name quite yet).

In your angered haste, you knocked on the door before you slid the paper underneath, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of stumbling upon it some time throughout the evening like you had. You, and your hazed subconscious, wanted them to know of your threat now.

...until everything screeched back into reality when a few locks fluttered and the door was yanked open to reveal your neighbor, Kim Seokjin.

Wet black hair was swept backward by a searching hand, black joggers snug underneath a massive pink sweater that hung off the knuckles of each hand, the one in his hair and the one clutching your crumpled piece of notebook paper. His facial features were gentle but critical, dark eyebrows pulled inward, plump lips pursed until they gradually pulled outward into a smile as soft brown irises flicked haphazardly across the contents of the note.

“So, what you’re saying is…” Seokjin looked at you, one eyebrow cocking, “You don’t like my music?”

“I don’t like how loud your music is.”

He leaned into his open door, laughing, “Touche’.”

“Just…” You clenched your fists by your side and you half assumed frustrated steam was billowing quietly out of your ears, “Just try to keep it down, please? And if you have a grievance with me just...come knock on my door or something.”

“Only if you don’t threaten to broadcast my bad shower singing—” He paused in place of your name, one you provided with a sigh. He repeated it with a giddy grin, sticking his hand out that you unwillingly shook, “Nice to meet you.”

Except Seokjin all but refused to knock on your door for anything, instead leaving you messily passive aggressive pieces of various colored stationary underneath the sizable crack in your apartment door.

Forest green with darker specks in between had the request for your Wifi password after he’d given some sob story via barely comprehensible handwriting about how his provider couldn’t make it for another week and he needed to submit something for his work now or he’d get fired. You’d refused, obviously, with a silent protest of not returning his request, something he countered with ridiculously obnoxious music for hours straight until you caved and thrust a ripped shard of yellow notebook paper underneath his door.

Only when he’d navigated onto his laptop did he notice that you’d changed your Wifi network name to don’t use this to stream Justin Bieber. A week later, when your connection finally turned to normal did a new network shuffle among the list of others scattered throughout your building.

Using this to stream Justin Bieber.

A pastel blue sheet with purple and navy specks through it came to your door to asking about a printer, Seokjin claiming he’d heard the unmistakable sound through the paper thin walls and that he desperately needed to use it as his suddenly wouldn’t connect to his laptop. If he hadn’t heard a printer, the asterisk at the bottom informed you to disregard completely.

The largest part of you knew it would be a disaster if you were to give him the ability to connect to your bluetooth printer but the smallest part of you knew you couldn’t hide that secret and he’d just torture you with a Disney movie soundtrack until you caved so you scrawled out connection instructions and taped part of the user manual to the note you slid underneath.

It took him a week to start taking advantage of the printer, beginning to use it in place of his notes instead of trekking down the hallway to push cardstock beneath the crack. The first couple were serious, a request for a spare iPhone charger, a half attempt at getting you to invite him over for dinner with a compliment to how good your dinner smelled. The next couple were ridiculous, a meme outdated by about three years, a Wikipedia page on the history of twist bottle caps that he insisted was just an accident with the next print.

Then there was one you thought was ridiculous until the same message printed again on fake cardstock, a color he’d applied to the paper that printed in your apartment (soft pink with maroon splotches) and added text that said THIS IS NOT A JOKE, HELP ME.

You vaguely understood the logistics of sugar gliders but you grabbed a hand towel on your way out of your apartment anyway, picking careful feet on the patterned carpet as to not accidentally step on the creature. It found you first, however, scurrying underneath your pant leg and you had to muffle your scream in the towel as you crouched, managing to fish the sugar glider out with little trouble and throw yourself into Seokjin’s apartment when he opened the door for the tap of your foot against the bottom of it.

“He was outside?” Seokjin took the towel from you to inspect the tittering creature with wide eyes, “How did you get outside?”

“You’re welcome—”

“Please don’t turn me in,” There was a separate panic in Seokjin now that he’d retrieved his pet, referencing the no animal aside from non aggressive fish rule in the apartment building. Another second of you being silent and he continued to ramble, “I don’t have anywhere else to take him and he’s good most of the time I just—”

“Seokjin,” You held up a palm, “I’m not going to turn you in.”

He bounced the towel in his arms like it was a human baby, eyeing you with innocent irises, “On any conditions or you just won’t period?”

You considered his proposition for a moment and felt a tiny bit bad for making conditions on him keeping his pet. But only a tiny bit.

“Stop playing your music so loud,” You proposed. “And I’ll stop using your printer!” Seokjin’s words ran together and his eyes bugged wider, “I’ll give you my number so we can stop wasting paper. Anything…”

He thrust out the hand that wasn’t cradling his pet, “...deal?”

You sighed, watching as his sugar glider’s nose began to twitch and he burrowed into the tiny nest made by your towel. “Deal…”

Except that deal lasted less than a week and he was back to playing music at a ridiculous volume, clattering his cabinets loudly, printing so much it ran out your black ink and you had to ask for money to go buy a new cartridge when you took his heaving stack of documents over to his door.

You tried banging on the wall as a warning, something you’d never thought of before, an action that caused the lowering of volume for no more than ten minutes before it was up again and you were back to digging the heel of your palm in the shared wall separating your bathrooms (and apartments).

This was the first time he’d texted you, something you stared at for a hard few seconds upon forgetting to save his name to the contact information, just a puke emoji. It was the contents of the message that jogged your memory.

Were those knocks Morse code for a song request?

You sighed, angrily tapping into your phone.

No, they meant shut the fuck up.

Months of living in your building meant you had a general idea to the schedules of those who lived around you and how they coincided to yours. That meant you generally parked in the same parking place, took the same route up the stairs, pressed a halfhearted smile into your cheeks at the same people in the lobby and the elevator and the halls. That entire routine was thrown off when you worked over one day, sweat tattered into your hairline and the buttons on your clothes itching to become baggy sweatpants before you departed for an exam that evening and all you could think about was the newly empty parking spot that was entirely closer to the door than where you normally parked.

In the time it took to shed your polo and jeans smelling of the restaurant you waitressed at part time and grab your backpack, there was someone parked directly behind you, effectively boxing you into the space that had a concrete wall in the front and two other cars on either side. At first, you assumed it was an accident until you got closer and the soft wind fluttered at a piece of pastel purple stationary with blue tick marks splattered throughout it.

I see you are enjoying the convenience of my parking spot. The code word is “penis”. Scream it loudly down the hallway and I’ll come out and move my car currently blocking you in. If I don’t “hear” from you in an hour, I’m calling a tow truck. Yours truly, Jin :)

You were shaking by the time your trembling legs brought you in front of his door, your voice miserable in rising to say plenty loud enough, “Penis.”

There was a gentle cackling from the other side of the door and his voice answered back, “Not loud enough.”

Anger, one like the initial day he’d moved in next to you, began to lace into the exhaustion and anxiety crippling the swirling pit of your stomach. It caused your voice to rise a second, unashamed octave, “Penis!”

Seokjin’s fingers tapped on the inside of the door and he hummed, “Still can’t quite hear you, darling.”

Your fists curled so tight it crumpled the note in your hand and you set your shoulders, letting your vocal chords waver as you, pointedly screaming, “Penis! Penis, penis, penis—”

The door swung open to reveal Seokjin’s concerned features, his hands lifting in penance but you continued to repeat the word, pausing only to chastise, isn’t this what you wanted? until a lock could be heard down the hall and Seokjin panicked enough to grab your wrist and tug you into the depth of his apartment.

When he dropped your wrist, you silenced, staring hard at the scrunch of his features and it was the ripping sob that made you immune to the way he’d asked if you were okay approximately three times before the first of the tears began to appear across your cheeks.

“You have my number!” You wailed, hysterical, “Why couldn’t you have just called me like a normal fucking person and asked me to move my car?”

Seokjin stuttered, “A-are you going somewhere?” His eyes flicked to the strap of the backpack that you gripped for dear life.

“I have an exam tonight asshole. Not like you care but I’m probably going to miss that too.”

“No, no, you won’t just—” He darted somewhere and returned with a wad of tissues and his car keys, “—dry your face and let’s go. I’ll drive you.”

“I don’t want you to drive me,” You dabbed at your face with the wad of tissues rather than separating them individually, “I want you to move your car.”

“But—”

“Seokjin,” Your voice rose again, only to dip into a tremble as more tears leaked miserably from the corners of your eyes, “Just move your car. Please.”

The next note came two days after you’d been fifteen minutes late for your exam, paired with the warm scent of freshly baked cookies. The plain piece of white paper advertised that too, that there was a plate of cookies waiting for you just outside your door and you probably needed to get them quickly before other tenants started to think you were running a one person bake sale from inside your apartment. You munched a sizable dent into the tiny pile of chocolate chip lain treats while thumbing softly over the tiny heart curled into the corner of Seokjin’s signature, considering it as some sort of unspoken apology.

He didn’t stop there in his quest to earn back your trust, to amend the absolutely heartbroken expression plastered to your features as a buildup of stress but that he took as his fault for taking the friendly enemy step one footprint too far.

For example, you didn’t question how he’d discovered it was your laundry tumbling in the dryer down in the common area of your floor. Maybe he’d correctly guessed, but regardless, he’d piled your laundry in neat, sorted piles in the white wire basket you’d left perched on top of the machine. You tried to ignore that he’d touched, multiple, pairs of your underwear and instead took the clothes against your side in the trek back to your apartment.

And aside from targeted attacks of penance, he overall tried to be a quiet neighbor, giving off the impression that no one lived there aside from the occasional slip of a shutting cabinet and the flick and click of his door knob and lock. The top forty playlists had ceased along with any other form of music and once you caught him exiting his apartment with earbuds attached to his phone, something a few months ago that you weren’t entirely sure he owned.

It went on this way until the fall month melted into deep winter, ice covering the sidewalks in a thin layer on the first day that it seemed plausible that there would be a white Christmas and you loathed it like the various warnings of canceled (in your email, on the airline website, through the tight lipped voice of the attendant who you’d spoken on the phone with, to the many news warnings flashing across the television screen every time you turned it on to something that was vaguely a news channel) attached to your flight tickets lain forgotten underneath some loose change on your kitchen counter.

You took in the supportive text messages from your family and friends back home with misty eyes kin to the thin glaze of ice covering the window in your apartment that promised not to melt for at least a week, if not the exact opposite and enhance by a few quarter inches with the cold front coming in directly before Christmas. Your fleece blanket served as a tiny, furry cave, sheltering you from the crippling sense of loneliness that came with being alone on the holidays, a sense that plagued your very being of living alone yet heightened when you had the expectation of it ending for a few days while being at home surrounded by other people.

The Snapchat notification from Taehyung went unopened when you saw his story said he’d just touched down in his hometown, just hours before cancellations began to flood in to that particular airport. You swiped away the missed call notifications from your parents that served only to cheer you up but assumed would just make the tired butterflies in your stomach sink. You moved the stack of neatly wrapped presents in your corridor to the hall closet that only contained a vacuum and a dustpan (no broom), even the present that you’d scrawled Seokjin’s name over but had considered keeping for the sake of your own dignity several times over.

You even managed to loathe the wall you shared with Seokjin a bit extra, as it was eerily silent, no annoying albeit comforting ambience filtering from it but instead dead silence, reminding you that you were virtually the only person left in your entire building, if not the entire vicinity of the your suburban side of the college town.

Until that wall began to chatter, first with a barely there scuffle of things against the floor and second with the unmistakable sound of music, his trademark no less, except in holiday fashion this time, melodious bells and jingles marking the underneath of lyrics you couldn’t hear but beats you could vaguely recognize.

Half of your exhausted conscious thought it was a mirage, that you were simply imagining that your neighbor was still here with you as the second and only two individuals left in the entire building, so it aided in your carelessness of wrapping your fleece blanket tighter to your shoulders and venturing out into the hallway. The music of your mirage only seemed to grow louder the closer you shuffled to his door, and you timed your knocks with the tune of jingle bells until you were met with the panicked expression of Seokjin, one you’d seen only once before when you’d been cradling his nearly lost pet in a clump of grey towel.

“Shit,” He cursed, “I figured you’d went home, I’m sorry. I’ll turn the music down again, that’s entirely my bad I was just…” Seokjin trailed off, gesturing quietly over his shoulder and when he stepped aside, you could see the mass of a fallen, plastic tree along with nearly a dozen half opened packages of ornaments. Green metal hooks decorated all the spaces in between, ones curled like his lips into the dimples in his cheeks when he shrugged, “...was trying to put up my tree, is all.”

“Oh,” You nudged your nose into the material around your shoulders, “It’s alright, I just...didn’t think you were here either—” You tried to smile underneath the puffy, sewn hem, “—making sure it was you, you know. Being a watchful neighbor.”

The tiniest of grins manifested to his lips, gradual in growing into the slight wheeze of his laughter but the speech he articulated didn’t quite match, just a soft, “Yeah…”

A few more heartbeats of awkward and you broke the trance with a nod towards the floor, taking a step back, “Well, if you need me then...you know where to find me.”

Seokjin returned your nod. “Yeah. I mean yeah, yeah same.”

You were two sad shuffles down the hall when something was tugging on the end of your blanket. It was Seokjin with the grey fleece held hostage, tugging softly again before dropping it all together, the round of his mouth suggesting the mortification he felt at the situation as the tips of his ears slowly grew red but none of that stopped his invitation.

“Do you want to help me put up my tree?”

When you just stared at him from underneath your makeshift cape, he held up a single finger, a sharp wait! before a distinct crashing could be heard as he stumbled back into his apartment. Moments later he returned with a strip of that familiar stationery, ripped a bit more on the perforated edge in his haste but the message read semi clear as he pressed the paper to the wall and began to mark on it with a thickly tipped black marker.

With all the giddiness in the world, he thrust the note toward you.

Come help me decorate my tree?1 (pretend that one is a footnote) and at the bottom, smooth edge of the paper footnote: this activity is done better together. promise.

In all your short lived instances of appearing in Seokjin’s doorway to explain notes or hand him documents (or sugar gliders), you’d never taken the time to really look at his apartment or at least, those parts of it you could see. Perched on his couch while he stretched on his tiptoes to plant a plastic star with red glitter woven through the middle was an entirely different perspective, especially when the itchy wool inscribing an ostrich with a Santa hat on the front rode up a bit on his hip bones and you had to force yourself to examine the apartment rather than the occupant of said apartment.

It was a similar layout to your own, an open concept living room into a kitchen with fully functioning appliances (his fridge, for example, freckled white and covered in so many magnets you would almost venture to describe the color as magnetic). There was a hallway beyond the wall in which the couch you perched on was pressed to, to the right, his bedroom and to the left, the connection of your bathrooms. In theory, your walls touched in more places than just the initial hotspot that was the shower concert, but seeing the layout for yourself in comparison to how you knew yours was laid out did nothing to change the perception already ingrained in your conscious.

Seokjin seemed to go for modern and minimalistic decorations, monochromes the theme for the big (the black leather couch and matching armchair, the white drawers shoved into the black outlined entertainment center), and wildly neon for the accents (a sharp red shag rug pressed underneath your socked feet, tiny alpaca figurines shoved onto decorative shelves and coffee table corners, a round pink bunny pillow with a questioning eyebrow taking the place of a decorative pillow on his couch).

One alpaca in particular caught your attention, standing upright with a tiny red bow around its neck as it seemed to wave in your direction from it’s place on the edge of the entertainment center. Seokjin’s voice dragged you away from being endeared by it, however, and you again felt your face heating as your eyes tore to the dip in his exposed spine.

“Hello,” He crooned again and you tried to ignore the slight slant in his lips when you finally met his gaze, “Is the star straight?”

You blinked up to where the red spined topper was very clearly lopsided. “Not even close.”

“Okay,” You were quickly growing endowed to the wheeze in his laughter, “Which direction does it need to go?”

There was a vague flick of your wrist toward the front door. He complied and you shook your head, “No...back this way.”

Too far again the wrong direction. Too far back. Nearly tumbling backward off the tree. Pressed forward so the tip was pointing toward you.

Finally, you shrugged, “...that’s good enough.”

Seokjin groaned, letting the pins and needles in his arms relax as he turned to you with slumped shoulders and accusing eyes. “You’re not very good at this thus far,” He told you, placing the bend in his thumb and pointer finger to the high rise of his waist.

“I don’t have much practice this year,” Your voice was light but the implication of the words wasn’t and Seokjin sensed it.

“Not much of a decorator?”

You answered the unasked question, “No. I was waiting to do it with my family.”

“Oh.” He shuffled away from the tree to bend over a cardboard box, traping a tangled mass of green wired lights from within. His attention focused on straightening them out while he inquired gently, “...so you are you staying here over the holidays?”

“Yes. My flight was canceled and a proper one won’t be available until after the holidays.”

“Oh,” Seokjin emphasized the word, nodding mostly to himself as he let the unlit lights drape down his front to sway against his legs, “Good, good. Me, uh...me too. I mean I’m staying here too. And my flight got canceled. The me too was to that part, too—”

“Good,” You happily dismissed the rambled ends of the conversation there, unfurling your legs from underneath you to stand, “Want some help with those?”

You aided each other in wrapping the thin, artificial tree in four strands of twinkling white lights, passing each other the looped wad in front and behind the plastic limbs, careful not to dislodge the prior work of the balanced star while also assuring the bulbs sat nestled in the branches. It looked a bit overwhelmed, wrapped in unlit green wires until Seokjin crawled to the floor to jam one end in the nearby outlet, only to have the tree look a bit underwhelming when only two of the strands lit up, those two being the ones that hugged the middle half of the tree.

The next twenty minutes were spent silently checking each individual bulb, Seokjin stretching back for the top of the tree while you crouched below. You’d barely made it halfway when he was waddling determinedly off into the apartment, only to return with a creaky wooden chair that he ordered you to sit on while you did the work.

“What if we rotate the tree as well,” He proposed, fingers reaching for the light he left off on, “That way we don’t have to, oh—” His fingers twisted into one of the bulbs and suddenly, his entire strand came on with yours following close after. A puzzled smile stretched into his cheeks as he regarded you where you sat on the edge of the chair he’d brought you, “—well, never mind.”

“You know…” You’d watched him meticulously separate green hooks from each other in silence for far too long, “You can turn your music back on.”

A pile of hooks snagged haphazardly against each other fell to the floor when he looked at you. The silence was affecting his ability to function as well, clearly, particularly when he said, “The music? What music?”

“The....the music that you were—?”

As if to cover himself after the handful of heartbeats that were nothing but silence in response to your statement, Seokjin began to laugh, a high pitched wheezing sound that paired to the hand he cupped across his stomach and the other that he slapped against his thigh.

“Oh, right,” Seokjin nodded, stumbling on the fibers of the festive socks on his feet to wherever the source may be, “That music.”

You took it upon yourself to untangle the hooks.

The exchange of silence stayed for the first few songs on the holiday playlist, an unspoken teamwork of you weaving hooks on shiny plastic bulbs while Seokjin placed them evenly around the tree. It took a package of red and silver ornaments and half a package of unconventional, squished lamp shaped ornaments of a green hue before he began to hum.

They were hums that grew louder as your fingers brushed in the transfer of hooked ornaments until he was essentially serenading you with the seam of his lips pressed tightly together, prolonging the shared contact on the ornaments as he leaned a fraction closer with his head wiggling to the beat and a smile tugging upward on his sealed lips.

Then he was singing, something akin to the tone of voice you’d heard him use the very first day he’d moved in. A bit pitchy but on purpose, careless and carefree, soft at first but growing louder the more comfortable he got with you being in the presence of a one man audience for a one man concert.

And then his voice switched, something more formal, a bit whispery and genuinely beautiful. It had you pausing in your actions, hook in one hand and ornament in another while the corner of your jaw began to unhinge. He was lost in it, unaware that you’d failed to hand him another ornament until he turned with eyes screwed shut and bumped into your outstretched fists.

Seokjin’s eyes popped open, immune to the expression on your features as he took the ornament from you, placing the unhooked plastic and the hook on separate places on the tree before sliding his hands into yours. His voice wavered between silly and trained, happily wavering your intertwined hands in between your bodies as he danced your figures in messy circles around the myriad of excess decorations.

“You can step on my feet, you know,” Seokjin assured, letting go of one of your hands to coax you into a stumbling circle. When you made the revolution, he held you at arms length as the streaming service through the speaker buffered between songs.

“I’m not close enough to step on your feet.”

He regarded you for the half second it took a single eyebrow to cock before he jerked on your arm, tugging you nearly on top of his toes. Seokjin hushed, “Is this better?”

There was a distinct waft of cinnamon and vanilla that filtered off the smiling ostrich stretched across his broad stature paired with a comforting warmth that soothed through the stabilizing hand you’d pressed to his chest. Your gaze trailed upward from the stitched tufts of hair woven into the top of the ostrich’s head to meet Seokjin’s gentle eyes, irises brewed in something that radiated the same coffee warmth of the rest of his aura.

Bluntly, you answered, “Yeah, I’m standing on your feet now.”

He took that as his cue to rock you back and forth, still perched on the tops of his feet, matching the beat of the more melancholy instrumental that filled the apartment. The sun had begun to set outside, lessening the natural light into a glossy orange hue that enhanced the twinkle of lights now forgotten on the tree as two shadows curled around the small space and melded into each other.

“You have a nice singing voice,” You said to his collarbone, afraid to meet his gaze again.

“Thank you,” Seokjin squeezed one of your hands, “You’re a terrible dancer.”

It was reflex to smack his shoulder, daring your gaze up at him just to glare and in turn sending the two of you into a fit of unabashed laughter. It was laughter that brought the curl of your bodies closer together, gripping each others hands tighter, until the giggles died into soft smiles directed solely to each other.

Seokjin cocked his head after a moment, “Would you like to stay and watch a movie?”

“I don’t have much in my cabinet other than this—” A warm bowl of ramen was placed gently on the fold out TV tray in front of you, “—and this…” Next was a paper bowl filled to the top with buttery popcorn. Seokjin held a sheepish smile when you glanced up at him to thank him, “Movie night essentials, you know.”

You hummed, sliding the wrapper from the chopsticks he’d provided to absently dig them through the noodles, “Thank you. We could have ordered something, you know…”

“Yeah? What could we have ordered?” The smile on his lips was teasing as he gestured for the ice stained window in the corner where flakes of new falling snow could vaguely be seen. “I don’t think much is open anyway...we’re pretty close to campus and nearly everyone has gone home.”

You moaned into the first bite you pushed past your lips, “That should have been us. Don’t remind me.”

“What?” Seokjin plopped next to you on the couch, dragging his own TV stand closer to ruffle around at the utensils and bowls, “You mean you’d rather have a home cooked meal and a tree with fully functioning lights?” His eyebrows lifted in the direction of the tree you’d aided in decorating where the bottom strand of lights flickered each time you stepped on his floor with a little too much force.

“Thank you, though. Seriously,” You let your next bite of ramen pool back into the bowl, eyeing it as you confessed, “It’d be worse to be alone so...I’m thankful you’re stuck here too.”

A surprised noise left Seokjin’s lips as he mumbled around the chipmunk shape of his cheeks as a result his own steaming bowl, “Well I’m glad you’re here too—” He swallowed thickly, leaning over to nudge you with his elbow, “—you’re not a half bad tree decorator. The lights are my fault somehow, I’m sure.”

The television was on but without anything playing, just the home screen of various applications and the name of the building cable provider in the corner. You ate through the silence of a dozen mouthfuls of food until Seokjin began to hum to himself again, shoving his bowl aside to dig busy fingers in the popcorn while his free hand went fishing in the couch cushions. You watched as he returned, triumphant, with a remote, clicking at the buttons with the brush of his thumb.

“What do you want to watch?” He continued to munch happily on his popcorn as he opened a streaming service and navigated to the holiday section. “Any traditions you’re being deprived of this year?”

You watched as he skimmed past the green, yellow, and blue cover of—

“Elf is pretty good,” You murmured, stirring the ends of your chopsticks through the leftover broth in your bowl.

Seokjin navigated back to it quickly, pressing play before he asked, “Oh, yeah? I don’t know that I’ve ever watched it all the way through.”

“You’ve never watched Elf?” You passed the utensils in your fingers aside to reach for your untouched bowl of popcorn, pulling it against your chest as you leaned back into the couch cushions. You stuck the first of the pieces in as the beginning tune of the opening credits filled the apartment, “Well, you’re in for a treat.”

He was still giggling by the time Christmas was saved by the less than magical voice of James Caan singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town in the middle of Central Park but not enough that he was distracted from you nudging him off your shoulder to gently take his dirty dishes and empty trash to usher it all into the kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that,” Seokjin rushed, galloping after you only before nearly tumbling headfirst over the TV tray still folded open in front of him. He caught up to you as you began to run water through the dirtied bowls, “I invited you to stay, wouldn’t I be a bad guest making you do my dishes?”

“Don’t let me do them, then. Help me,” You handed him the rinsed bowl and gestured to what appeared to be a frayed sponge and a half full bottle of soap. You made a point of grabbing the soap and pressing a dollop of it onto the otherwise dry sponge Seokjin lifted to scrub through the curved inside of the bowl. “Then you can let me meet your sugar glider. Properly.”

“Gukmul,” Seokjin nodded, letting the half clean bowl splatter to the suds below, “I”m sure he’ll be thrilled to properly meet his savior.”

You started to say his name as he disappeared down the hall of the apartment, effectively leaving you with the dishes all over again. He was quick though, you halfway through rinsing the bowl he’d abandoned when he returned with a towel shaped ball, your towel, curled against his chest.

“Here,” He gently held the bundle out toward you, especially when the white furred creature with grey ears poked its head out from between the sanction of his owner’s palms. “You hold him and I’ll do that.”

You dried your hands on the front of your pants, brushing fingers with Seokjin as you assured him you had the bundled up creature, quickly bringing him against your chest. Gukmul didn’t stay in the cocoon for long, regarding you with black beaded eyes until he made his move. Tiny, jumping movements let him glide up the front of your sweater until he was perched against your neck, content with his tiny heartbeat rapidly brushing against your skin.

“He likes you,” Seokjin nodded, placing one bowl aside to reach for the other.

“Is he going to jump off?” You countered, too preoccupied with how soft the little animal was for proper flashbacks of the last incident to flash in your conscious.

“Probably not,” He grinned when you looked horrified, “What? I can’t guarantee he won’t.”

“...although he might want to stay a little longer if you bribe him with a treat—” Seokjin jerked a suddy thumb over his shoulder, “There’s cut apples in the refrigerator if you want to feed him one.”

Elongated, picking footsteps carried you toward the refrigerator, ones in which Gukmul barely moved an inch other than to stabilize himself against your shoulder. The same amount of care was taken to get back across the room once you’d retrieved the apple cube, successful in not losing the tiny sugar glider until he resided in your palm with his treat happily munched between his cheeks.

“Will you help me pick up all the decoration stuff too?”

You glanced up at Seokjin from where you’d previously been watching his pet with utter fascination. “If job can be to hold Gukmul so he doesn’t get in the way, then yes.”

“He has a cage for that,” He placed the second, clean bowl aside before reaching for the pan he’d cooked the noodles in. He exchanged an amused glance between you and the sugar glider, “I was kidding, anyway. You don’t have to help me.”

“I was still just joking, you know,” He told you a few minutes later when you stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the dozen plastic bins that looked as though they’d puked holiday cheer onto the tile floor of Seokjin’s apartment. “You don’t have to help me.”

“I’m going to help you.”

You moved to crouch on the floor to collect stray hooks and an assortment of miniature, icicle shaped ornaments that had scattered outside of their plastic box when he was cupping your elbow to halt you.

“Wait—” Seokjin held up a finger with a mischievous glint in his irises that tucked into the corner of his eyes to regard you, “—I have an idea of what to do with these.”

“Are we going to get in trouble for this?”

Seokjin huffed dramatically from below, hands shifting off the small of your back so that he nearly got two handfuls of your ass. “Probably not, now attach the garland before I drop you.”

The connection of the twist tie around the wire of the green branches was messy but it secured enough along the top part of the cabinets in the common area of your floor, perfect timing for the way your foot slipped off the small part of counter top and proceeded to throw most of your body weight into Seokjin’s palms.

“I’ll never forgive you if you let me fall,” You threatened.

“That implies that you’ve forgiven me for everything else,” Seokjin grunted, bracing his weight and pushing until you were stabilized again, “So that to me is a win.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, finding the tiniest bead of sweat matting down black fringe on one side of his face but he was wholly serious as he huffed and got a tighter grip on your back. You teased gently so he would look at you, “Who said I forgive you for anything?”

This time, his palms did cup your ass in route to land on the backs of your thighs, exasperated as he began to rant, “I am still sorry for being the shittiest neighbor ever. I had no idea you had an exam that day but it didn’t really matter I shouldn’t have done that anyway and—”

“Jin,” You trusted your balance enough to flick a socked foot backward at his face, “Hand me the lights.”

Seokjin whined into handing you the rolled up wires, “You didn’t let me finish.”

You sighed, tossing the outlet end of the lights down the side of the cabinets before beginning the meticulous weave through each of the rungs on the cabinet.

“Proceed.”

“I was going to say I still owe you some more fresh baked cookies,” He grunted when you shifted and squeezed your thighs, “but I’m really not sure that I’m sorry anymore.”

He regarded the work you’d done around the small common area with a critical eyebrow, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as he took in your surroundings. The lights had proved easier to weave than the garland, now on and twinkling between the tiny bits of artificial green. You’d hung a few leftover bulbs for good measure, tucking them back into the greenery. A tiny tree, one you’d fished out of forgotten presents in your hall closet, sat idle on the corner of the cabinet, directly next to the microwave that didn’t work and the sink that no one obeyed the don’t do your dishes here rule of. You’d looped the last of the multi colored lights to that short, fake vegetation, clicking settings on the little dial until the lights were programmed to a periodic flashing motion. The glitter all over the floor was simply a hazard of all the other decorations but it added to the ambiance, especially when the time curled dangerously close to the midnight hour, reflecting the blues of the snow outside through the glass windows lining each part of the common room before they disappeared into the individual hallways.

“Not bad,” Seokjin mused. You held your hand out, palm up for a high five.

“So…” You began once his hand touched yours, curling your fingers around his to hold him there, “...about those apology cookies you still owe me?”

“And I was under the impression you were a master chef.”

Seokjin’s eyes brewed a similar shade to the chocolate chips buried within the perfect block of dough he was breaking apart, regarding you under shaggy bangs that hung over his eyes.

“Generally, I am,” A high pitched squeak left his lips when a particularly difficult square cookie finally gave way to his prying hands, followed by a few more other noises as he spread that piece to the greased cookie sheet, “but on account of the time and the worst ice storm in the history of the city, I can’t exactly go get fresh ingredients.”

You leaned against his counter top, watching as he spread the rest of the premade cookies across the sheet. The festive oven mitt was shrugged on until it rested across his wrist, doing a dramatic twirl across his kitchen to place the pan in the oven.

“A master chef would have bulk supplies for potential winter storms,” Your palm cradled your chin, “No?”

Seokjin tossed the oven mitt so that it slid across the counter, smacking into your elbows and in turn making you flinch. There was a grin plastered to his features when he tottered over to retrieve it, murmuring, “Sorry, darling. Thought I could make to—” He flicked open the part in the cabinet below you before slamming down the fabric and slamming it shut, “—the drawer.”

“Ramen, popcorn, and premade cookies,” You tapped your fingers in succession against your bottom lip, “Quite the array of food to have until it clears up outside.”

“I have other stuff,” Seokjin defended, motioning toward the top half of his refrigerator on the far adjacent edge of the kitchen, “Some French toast sticks, a frozen pizza or two. I think there’s a box of instant mashed potatoes somewhere around here…”

“Master chef,” You nodded.

“Precisely,” He shoved himself up off the counter, hands braced on the edge and elbows locked as his head lulled to the side, “Going to have a holiday feast tomorrow night.”

“Enjoy it.”

“You aren’t coming?” You blinked at him until he added, “I mean, you can come over if you want. We can pretend to exchange presents or something. I’m sure I can spare an alpaca figurine. You might be worth it.”

Part of your body went numb with the realization that you’d now have an excuse to give him his present, the one that had tumbled to the middle of your hallway when you’d carelessly yanked your tiny tree from your hall closet. You ignored it to joke stiffly, “Frozen pizza and a present that may or may not be a tiny alpaca? How can I resist that?”

A fond smile curled into a tiny half circle on the plump seam of Seokjin’s lips, pressing into the cute indentions of his cheeks as he looked away from you. His eyes instead went to the screen of his phone that he dug out of his back pocket.

“It’s late,” He said after a moment, still not quite looking at you, “If you want to go home, I’ll save the cookies for tomorrow.”

“You won’t eat one without me?”

“Not even a crumb,” Seokjin vowed, looking at you now with a hand dramatically slapped over his heart.

“I’ll be able to hear if you do,” You half threatened, slowly moving to where your keys were.

His nose wrinkled when you bumped into the side of the couch, eyes glinting.

“Won’t taste as good without you, anyway.”

You contemplated the gift package in your hand for far longer than you considered the red and white striped fuzzy socks tucked nearly up to your knee caps. Whether that was a good or bad thing on your part, it cost you another half a roll of wrapping paper as you tore open the gift, considered not taking it, thought to take it again, hid it underneath the scarf you’d gotten one of your cousins, and finally swallowed your pride to tuck it under your arm and go the short distance to Seokjin’s place.

“He was joking about the alpaca thing,” You conversed with yourself in the first two footsteps out your front door, “You’re going to look silly bringing him a gift that you bought months in advance. Who has this just laying around, anyway—”

That was the first thing Seokjin said when he opened the door too. “Oh. You brought a gift—” He nudged the door a bit wider to coax you inside, “—not anything that could be considered payback for all my neighbor crimes, is it?”

You bypassed the insinuation of his hanging guilt to instead hyper-fixate on how his hair was stuck up in a few different directions, his holiday sweater bunched around his waist, and the way his teasing smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. He looked nearly as disheveled as he had when you’d swept his pet up in a navy blue towel after he was sure he’d lost it forever. You paused halfway in the threshold, nearly pressed against his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Whatever remaining resolve that Seokjin had been putting forth crumpled in that moment, stature slumping off the door so that it swung to a hard close behind both your figures. His hand was in his hair again, tresses poking in more awkward angles between his digits.

“I think Gukmul is sick,” His hand shifted to his nape, “He hasn’t ate since you left yesterday. And he’s being lethargic.”

“You think it was the apple I gave him?”

“Some of the other pieces were browning but,” Seokjin’s hand fell limp to his side and he shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing I just…”

“Okay, so we take him to the vet,” You placed your gift aside to reach for your phone, tapping away at the screen, “I’m sure there’s a twenty-four hour clinic somewhere that’s open on Christmas Eve.”

“Darling,” He touched your hand, thumb stroking between your knuckles, “It snowed a couple extra inches last night. How are we going to get there?”

“Drive? If we take it slow—”

“In whose car?”

“...mine?”

Seokjin paused, “Are you in my spot again?”

You slumped under where his hand touched yours, “We don’t have time to play the penis game again—”

“I’m just kidding,” His fingers laced around your wrist, squeezing, “I could easily drive us too, then…”

“I’ll drive. And, I have something to help us—” You dislodged his grip on you to reach for your present, tearing easily into the newly wrapped sides to reveal the box inside. Seokjin protested the whole time but you ignored him, slicing the tape with your thumb to digging inside.

It was a fanny pack essentially, bright pink with stark black zippers and a black strap with a plastic buckle. The front pouch was sheer netting, enough so that you couldn’t see inside but enough that the creature inside would be able to breathe. You thrust it toward his chest, “Here.”

“It’s supposed to be a carrier for Gukmul,” You explained lamely, “You know, so you can take him out of the apartment and not lose him. Or get busted by Hoseok.”

“Oh,” He took it into his grasp, gently turning it in his hands, running his fingers across the zippers, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I got it a long time ago,” You winced at your own admission, “and in pink too. You seem to like that color.”

“I do,” Seokjin blinked from the pack to you, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now go get Gukmul, I’ll go warm up the car.”

“Oh. Oh,” He stumbled over himself in an effort to shrug the strap over one shoulder, “Right. Okay, right, I’ll meet you out there. Be careful on the ice!—”

Thirty minutes to what was normally a ten minute trip later and the vet was descending behind an ominous looking door with that navy blue bundle curled against her chest. There were a few fishtails and a handful of instances where you didn’t think your vehicle could make it up inclined streets in between stop signs but Seokjin’s knuckles hadn’t been nearly as white then as they were with your hand pressed between both his palms..

He leaned against you, turning your palm over in his lap to trace gentle fingers across the lines in your palm. You let him, leaning too until your heads touched. His leg bounced in time with sighs he took to attempt to calm his breathing.

“You know, I’m really glad our flights got canceled,” Seokjin said, lacing his fingers through the spaces in yours to pat your intertwined appendages against his thigh, “That sounds horrible. I mean I just....am glad you’re the one who lives next to me, is all.”

“Up until a few months ago, I couldn’t really say the same about you, you know,” You flexed your fingers in his grip.

“I was a dick at first on accident. Then I thought it was entertaining. You never seem that bothered by me. If you were, I assumed you would have told Hoseok and I would have had complaints on my file or something. But you never did so I just...figured you went along with my stupidity because you enjoyed it too. Until that day you cried…”

“It’s okay, you know,” You shifted on his shoulder to peer at the side of his face, “You don’t have to keep apologizing for that. I wasn’t going to get an A in that class, anyway.”

“The exam wasn’t the point. The point was that I teased you like I knew you. Like we were friends or something. And it turned out I didn’t know you at all. I didn’t even know you went to university.”

“...I didn’t know you but I wanted to know you,” Seokjin swallowed, squinting up at the paw print shaped clock on the far wall from where you sat, “Your presence was just...strangely comforting. Knowing that you could hear me being dumb almost felt like I had a roommate. Like I wasn’t alone with myself.”

“That’s why Gukmul means so much to me, aside from the fact that he’s a part of my family. He reminds me that I’m something larger than myself. That I’m not constantly alone.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you,” Seokjin’s chin pressed to his neck to smile down at you, “For being here with me. For putting up with me. Indirectly and otherwise…”

“And I’m sorry I was such a shit neighbor for so long. It was like I reverted back to middle school—” He gestured with the hand that was still twisted around yours, “—you know, tease the person you like and that’ll make them understand that you like them.”

“You weren’t and aren’t a shit neighbor,” You assured, nudging your nose against the underside of his collarbone, “You bring the same kind of comfort for me, you know.”

“You know how many times my friend Taehyung told me I should turn you in? So many times,” You shrugged, “You’re kind of annoying but nothing unbearable. It’s part of what makes you charming.”

“Thanks,” Seokjin laughed dryly and you smiled when a part of his natural wheeze came out in the giggle.

“I just got used to you. It felt weird if I couldn’t hear something going on over there...if my printer wasn’t whirring to life at the most inopportune times…”

“Why do you think I said up until a few months ago? I realized that I—” You nuzzled your cheek against his jacket so he couldn’t see your face, “—kind of liked you too. I mean, hello I bought you a gift in advance. I don’t even buy my family presents in advance.”

“Sounds like we should talk more outside of bluetooth printing, vague wall knocks, and horrible Spotify playlists,” Seokjin playfully jostled you on his shoulder.

You curled your free arm around his elbow, snuggling in closer to his side, “We definitely should.”

You sat in the silence that came with observing the basket of haphazard animal magazines and the children’s play maze that consisted of tiny wooden beads on twirled metal tracks, the whisker hands of the cat shaped clock stuck to the front of the reception desk ticking by unbearably slow. The paw print clock showed the same drag of time, the ticking of the second counter in time with the bounce of your own leg.

Time means it’s something bad. Or it’s nothing. Or it’s something and it’s small. Of course, bringing him here was going to take time but—

“Looks like your little buddy here just had a tummy ache,” The vet reappeared holding your towel, the only difference being that there was a small white head now peeking up from between the rolled center. What was once lethargic was now energetic, head darting back and forth at he new surroundings with his tiny nose twitching to the overwhelming smells. “He puked a bit of something up but took to the carrots I fed him like he’d never ate before…”

There was a bit more exchange between the owner and the vet as she passed Gukmul into Seokjin’s care, just a reminder to keep an eye on him for at least another twenty-four hours and the instructions to give her a call on her personal cell phone if anything got worse. The exchange of credit card information, a few shards of carrot for the road, and Gukmul was bundled back up into his new pouch laid across Seokjin’s chest. He chattered happily on the careful trek to the care, noise happily placed between munches on the carrot the vet had given him.

You scratched underneath Gukmul’s chin before Seokjin closed the wire gate to his cage, standing so that he could drape an arm across your shoulders.

“I think he’s a faker,” Seokjin said finally, watching as the sugar glider hopped away into one of his hanging toys.

“Be nice!”

“What?” He grinned when you turned to him to swat his shoulder, “Had us risk our lives in the middle of an Antarctic winter storm just to get a couple shards of carrot. I would have bought him carrots after everything melted—”

You tugged on the lapel of Seokjin’s jacket, cutting him off long enough to roll onto your toes to plant your lips softly to his cheek. “It’s okay,” You soothed, brushing your thumb over where a blush spread outward from where your lips had touched his skin, “We made it, didn’t we?”

“Wait! That reminds me!”

You startled with the intensity that he blurted the statement, stepping back when he stepped away from you, too. You stood rooted in the spot as he stumbled around his bedroom, coming back with a piece of stationary in hand, one of red and green speckles this time. Black ink was written neatly to the paper this time, looping letters complete with the normal heart next to his signature at the bottom.

“It was a scavenger hunt but I don’t have the patience to wait while you do the other steps so—” Seokjin gestured vaguely to the paper in your hand, “—that’s the last clue.”

“Go to the kitchen,” You read, lifting your eyebrows first before your gaze, “Quite the clue.”

“Hush, do you want your gift or not?”

“I—”

You faltered when he began to direct you with hands firmly set on each of your arms, steering you out of his room, down the hallway, and around the bend of the kitchen. It was a push and pull, forward a few steps on the tile, backward toward the plate of cookies he’d arranged on a plate shaped like a snowflake, forward one step and finally his grip left you.

“Okay, turn around. And look up.”

You saw his red tipped ears first, a color that spread over the entire surface of his skin in each area the longer he tried to smile at you. When you didn’t budge, his eyes flicked upward a few times, then his head jerked, then he blatantly pointed until you laughed.

“My present is a kiss?” You giggled, stepping closer to him.

“Yes, of course,” Seokjin’s pink features told a different story than the way he confidently reached for your waist, drawing you against him, “Only the best for you.”

“I didn’t think Gukmul was going to get sick and we were going to have this weird confession session in the lobby of the vet’s office. This was me, what do they say...shooting my shot?” One hand came up to cup your cheek, “I was going to lure you in here naturally with my impeccable charm but...this is cute and romantic too? Right?”

You touched your lips to Seokjin’s to dispel the last of uncertainty that still saturated heavy in his tone.

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fluff #seokjin imagine #seokjin x reader #jin imagine #jin x reader #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #fic: footnote better together #i hope u enjoy!!! as always lmk what u think :-)

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kaffeinic · 5 years

Text

Caffeinic | Bang Chan

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | Epilogue

Pairing: Reader x Barista!Bang Chan

Genre: Neutral // Slight Fluff // Romance

Warnings: Fem!Reader

Preamble: You’ve been going to the same coffee shop for the past four years. You’ve ordered the same thing almost every single day, and you never, ever skip on that part of your morning. So, when Mrs. Park hired a new barista and the once serene café was suddenly flooded with people every second of the day, you were less than thrilled.

It’s the day of the party, and you’re currently standing dead center in the middle of your bedroom, - which is completely covered from corner to corner in clothes and hangers - trying to find something, anything, that you can wear.

The problem isn’t that nothing looks good. You personally like your style. The problem is that you don’t know how to dress. You know that you asked to not go in the water, but should you wear a swimsuit and/or something beachy anyway? Should you just show up in something casual, like a hoodie or t-shirt?

This is the only thing you’ve been doing for three hours straight.

Growling in frustration, you carefully tip-toed out of the room using the tiny bits of floor that were still visible to avoid dirtying your clothes. It was then that you heard your phone vibrate from the other side of the room.

Turning back around with a sprinkle or two of colourful language, you made your way back to your phone, checking the text. It was from Junseok.

Hey! We decided not to go to the pool. Are you cool with just being at the apartment?

You squealed in delight. This essentially eliminated the inner turmoil you had been completely overdramatizing, causing a wave of relief to rush through your body.

Yeah, of course! Same time?

You replied to him, tapping your foot as you waited eagerly for his response.

Yeah. See you then!

You smiled from ear to ear and threw on a change of clothes, which consisted of a white sweater, ripped blue jeans, and a pair of white adidas. You styled your hair and threw a few items in your book bag - whose old contents were neatly stacked on your desk - and walked out of the front door.

Junseok’s apartment was within walking distance, so you took your time and enjoyed the sounds of birds and people chatting in the distance. It took about ten minutes to get there, give or take. Junseok’s apartment was pretty much the exact same type as yours, so you already felt a bit of comfort knowing the general layout of the place. When you arrived at the door, you could faintly hear pop music playing inside. You knocked, fixing your bag to lie better on your shoulder. Your friend - honestly, more of an acquaintance - greeted you with a smile.

“Y/n! I’m happy to see you! Come on in!” He was absolutely beaming, very proud of the party he had put together. There were already seven people chatting in various sizes of groups in the living room, and you could hear more people around the corner in the kitchen. You didn’t smell booze, and internally thanked Junseok for that.

“Thanks for inviting me.” You said, stepping inside and taking a better look.

“Just make yourself at home. The bathroom is upstairs-” He paused. “Wait. You said you lived in the neighbourhood; you probably already knew that.” He began to chuckle in embarrassment, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway, I hope you have some fun!” With that, he waved and walked off to speak to more of the guests.

You found yourself suddenly very uncomfortable. Apart from Junseok, you recognized no one. According to your memory, you haven’t ever been to a party like this. You awkwardly held your arms and moved towards a wall in the living room that separated it from the kitchen. You could still hear the buzzing of voices from around the corner. Most of the conversations revolved around gossip and/or dating. You began to notice that many people were in different corners of the house, making out unapologetically. You scowled in disgust.

You reached into your book bag, groping blindly for your phone. If you didn’t know anyone here, you would at least try to act like you knew people who wanted to talk elsewhere. You had your phone opened to the texting application, swiping up and down to seem like you were doing something. Getting bored, you looked up coffee art on Instagram.

Most of what you saw was latte art, but you found yourself drooling over the intricately designed cakes as well. Suddenly, you wanted coffee. Gee, I wonder why. You shook off the thought, continuing scrolling through the videos. You came across one from the Parks’ café and couldn’t resist watching.

You saw Mrs. Park at the counter, talking gleefully to the camera, explaining the types of coffee you could buy there. In the background, you saw that same head of curly blonde hair that greeted you when you would enter the shop. Chan was called over to the camera to show the cup of coffee he had just made. It looked delicious. Someone cleared their throat behind you, breathing on your neck.

You instinctively scooted away and gave a warning. “I’m not interested in you or making out with you in the back room. Go away.”

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on it, but it’s good to know you’re not here for a one night stand.” Chan’s voice sounded playful. You looked up to see the man with arms folded, leaning against the wall next to you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He wore a white hoodie with a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and boots. His hair was styled and he smelled of cologne.

“I didn’t expect you, either.” You raised an eyebrow. “Stalker.” Chan’s eyes widened and he took a moment to process your comment before laughing.

“I couldn’t let all of these guys pressure you into making out in- Where was it that you said? The back room?” He smiled gleefully and you returned the gesture. “Remember when I told you I had a friend that lived near you? It’s Junseok.”

“Wow. I only got invited as a favour to a friend.” You rolled your eyes, not entirely faking the pain.

“I didn’t say anything to him. He called me yesterday to ask if I’d like to come over tonight.” Chan moved closer and turned to face you. “Maybe it was fate?” With that, you giggled, immediately embarrassed that his stupid joke made you laugh.

“Jokes aside, I’m glad to see you. It’s... uncomfortable here.” You looked down, placing your phone in your pocket.

“Can’t say I’m not surprised.” Chan replied. “You’re more of a studious, introverted type. When I said I didn’t expect you to be here, I meant it.” He smiled at you again, making you forget everything else around you - even the loud sounds of melodramatic storytelling coming from the kitchen. You turned to face Chan.

“I honestly don’t know what I’m doing here.” You admitted, looking down. Chan’s hand wrapped around your shoulder.

“You don’t need to stay. I could take you back home.” He offered. You smiled at his kindness and shook your head.

“I think I’ll try to stay a bit longer. I need life experiences that don’t involve a textbook and laptop.” You said. Chan’s hand left your shoulder and returned to its original position in his pocket as he looked at you.

“You can be my lost puppy if you want to.” He said. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Your what..?”

“You can follow me around. Or not. It’s just an option.” He replied. You had a Eureka moment and nodded.

“What were you planning on doing?” You asked.

“I was going to swim, but it seems we aren’t going to the pool. I feel cheated.” He said, eyes narrowing at Junseok from across the room. “The only reason I came is because he said we would go swimming.” You laughed at his annoyance and looked back at Junseok. He was chatting happily when he turned to you and waved Chan over.

“Yo, come over here. I want you to meet someone.” He said. Chan looked at you and ushered you to follow him. You two walked up to Junseok to see a very pretty - albeit very snobby looking - girl. She smiled at Chan and waved.

“Hello.” Chan said. The girl all but made heart eyes at him.

“Hey there. I’m Kim Seoyeon.” She said. You looked down, immediately uncomfortable. Was Junseok trying to play matchmaker? You thought Chan was into you. He held out his hand politely and she shook it.

“You need a girl, bro. I think you’d like Seoyeon here. She models.” Junseok said. You could tell that he meant no harm, but it still hurt. Chan smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Seoyeon, but I have my eyes on someone right now.” Chan moved a bit closer to you, and your heart fluttered. Did he just reject her to try to make a relationship with you?

“With this?” She said, looking at you with disgust. “You’ve gotta be kidding. I’m way prettier.”

“No, you’re not.” Chan said. He looked at you and gestured you to walk away with him. Before leaving, he turned to Junseok. “Thanks anyway, mate.” Junseok’s eyes were wide with surprise from the last few moments that transpired, but he looked at you and frowned.

“But Seoyeon is more your type. Y/n is my-” He stopped himself. “Not your type.” It was at that moment that you understood what was going on. Junseok invited you because he liked you, and when he saw you chatting with Chan, he wanted to deter the two of you from getting too close.

“I’m sorry. I’m not interested. Maybe you could date her, if you really think she’s that pretty.” He said. Something told you that Chan had figured out what was going on, too. He didn’t seem happy about it. You looked around, then held up your hands.

“Hey, guys- I think I’ll just go home. It’s okay.” You said. Both of the boys looked at you with disappointment.

“No, please don’t leave. I invited you here.” Junseok said.

“It’s okay, I can see you at the university.” You replied.

“But, Y/n-” Junseok tried to argue, but Seoyeon cut him off.

“If she wants to leave, let her leave.” She said. Though you knew her ulterior motive behind that remark, you still were happy that she wasn’t opposed. Junseok looked defeated.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked. You nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” You said with a smile. He held the back of his neck, smiling.

“Bye!” You waved to him and Seoyeon and headed for the door. You heard Chan’s footsteps follow you.

“I said I would take you home, and it’s dark now.” He explained. “May I?” You looked up at him and smiled.

“You should go enjoy the party.”

“Snobby girls, no pool, an inevitable awkward conversation with my friend, and a lack of my favourite coffee addict? I think I’ll pass.” He opened the door for you. “Let’s go.” You stepped outside.

“Thanks, Channie.” You said. He smiled again at the nickname.

“Oh, I love that.” He walked toward his car and opened the passenger door.

“What a gentleman.” You said, taking a seat. He grinned and closed the door. When he sat down, he shoved his keys into the ignition and started the engine.

“Y/n?” He said. You looked up at him quizzically. “I don’t want you to think I’m looking for anything else on the side.” He said. It took a moment for you to process.

“I know.” You said. “It was pretty obvious.” You laughed at the situation. Chan didn’t laugh, but he did smile.

“Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I-” He began. “I don’t know. For everything.” You two sat in silence for most of the ride, which was only a couple of minutes. You seriously could have walked home yourself.

When he pulled up into your parking lot, he didn’t say anything. After an awkward silence, you began to gather your things and open the door.

“Y/n, could I have your phone number?” He asked. You smiled and nodded, reaching in your bag for your phone. It was a new number that you weren’t too sure you had memorized. You definitely didn’t want to give Chan a fake number by mistake. You continued searching in your bag, but failed to find the device.

“Where’s my phone?” You asked yourself. Chan looked around the dashboard and the floor where you sat.

“Should we go back?” He asked. You nodded.

“Yeah.”

Fast forward a few minutes and you were back at the party again. You and Chan opened the door and looked around, but didn’t see it anywhere. Junseok and Seoyeon came up behind you with confused and/or concerned looks on their faces.

“What are you looking for?” The boy asked. You didn’t really look at him, but you replied.

“My phone. I know I had it when I got here.” You explained. From behind, unbeknownst to you or the two men, Seoyeon smiled devilishly.

“I could try calling it.” Junseok offered. You nodded, then stopped him after a moment.

“It’s on vibrate. Crap.” You muttered. Seoyeon fiddled with the device in her pocket, shutting it down. After a few moments, you and Chan gave up and left. After saying your goodbyes, you plopped on your bed, exhausted.

You went to sleep that night with a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

This one is much longer than a few of the other chapters! I tried to make up for my lack of posting lmao. I hope you enjoyed! Just a reminder: If you want to be tagged on my posts, send me a DM or an ask. I’ll add you to the tag list!

* DISCLAIMER: I do not own any gifs/photos used in this post. I do own the written content. Do NOT repost/edit. *

🏷 @a-toxic-galaxy • @hoshithehamster • @woo-for-woojin

#kpop #fanfictions #headcannons #reactions #ships #imagines #stray kids #skz #bang chan #chan #boyfriend #barista #love #cute #ulzzang #3racha #cb97 #christopher #christopher bang

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ravenforce · 5 years

Text

Devil’s in the Detail

Prompt: "Can you do Natasha Romanoff x reader. Where the reader is the Devil, like the actual devil dangerously beautiful and suave queen of the underworld in a red&black suit. Somehow their paths cross, Nat ends up to selling her soul to R in order to keep herself alive. The R first accepts it but starts to fall for Nat and ends up canceling their deal. She asks a different favor from Nat instead of her soul. The Devil wants a gf experience or something at first but they both end up falling in love."

Requested by: @petagoniablue

Word Count: 1612

Warning/s: None; except it’s long.

A/N: Damn, I didn’t mean it to be this long but it just happened. I hope you like it.

***

You have been walking the earth for millennia since your fall from grace. You lived various lives, and it was exciting - oh very exciting - at first. Originally your father thought sending you down here with the beings you envy and loathe is the best punishment for your insolence but anywhere is better than home. At least down here, you're free. Free from the demanding, suffocating rules of your father; finally free to do whatever you want, whenever you want without no one to answer to.

Up there you were once one, if not the brightest star; your father's beloved. Here on earth though, you're nothing but a monster. Painted specifically as a naked red being with horns, spiked tail, and carrying a huge fork to scare children to obedience. Here you are nothing but a rebellious child. You were in a museum when you encountered such painting that's supposed to represent you. "How inaccurate," you said to yourself with a sigh.

Inaccurate, it was. Because on the contrary, you are as charming as you used to be, even more so with these gullible human beings easily falling for your dangerous smirk and quick wit. You're beautiful, confident, powerful and you know it. Maybe they got some of it right, you're rebellious. That is the propaganda - rebellion; against the system, against the order, against rules. You built your empire on earth as the savior of the damned; providing shelter for people forsaken by heaven just like you.

And that's how you met her.

***

You're up in the roof of your club in New York when a fight broke out in an alley across your building. As the devil, you don't really concern yourself with breaking up fights. If you're being honest, you actually like watching fights; they're one of your favorite form of entertainment. Seeing very clearly from across the road - thanks enhance abilities your father probably forgot to revoke - a woman seem to be fighting off five men. She moves with a grace of a butterfly but as deadly as a venomous spider that even out the playing field; she looks like she's winning. Until one of the men produced a serrated knife out of nowhere are stabbed her across her chest.

She crumpled to the ground while the men ran off and left her soaking in her own blood. You were curious, you jumped off the roof to the ground with ease. You cross the street in huge confident stride, the tail of your red and black suit billowing in the wind. You reached her and kneeled beside her to check for a pulse. She's alive but barely. You pulled your hand away from her but she caught it.

"Save me, please. I'll give you anything," she struggled to say around the blood spilling out of her beautiful mouth.

Shit, what? Beautiful mouth? You thought to yourself. In your long life, very little faze you anymore but this woman, even in her dying state, makes you nervous. Your face remained impassive though.

"I'll give you my soul", she said before she closed her eyes.

You sighed heavily before you leaned down and kiss her forehead. You brush her red hair away from her face.

***

Natasha woke up to multiple voices murmuring somewhere in her feet. The room is lit by the wide window on her right, while Steve, Tony, and Clint are by her feet.

"If this is you guys trying to whisper, I'll be damned," she said loud enough to startle her friends.

Clint was first to speak, "You're awake." Relief is evident in his voice.

"No thanks to you guys," she joked. Everyone laughed, morphined Natasha is definitely cute.

"I'll go get the doctor," Steve, the ever responsible Captain said. The doctor asked her if she remembered anything. She does, she remembers a face - a very beautiful one at that - but she's not about to admit it because she's not entirely sure if she was real or a by-product of her dying imagination. So she shook her head, he explained what happened; called it a miracle because she lost a lot of blood and the knife was mere millimeters away from her heart.

After some arguing between keeping her team, it was decided that she will recover at the hospital instead of moving her to Stark Lab. That night she dreamed of the same pretty woman; scratch that, she dreamed about her every night.

***

It took a full week before she was given the clearance to go back home. On her first night back, she snuck out and went back to the same alley; for what she doesn't know.

"It's dangerous for women to stand around dark alleys, you know," said someone from behind her.

She turned around so fast, she felt an incoming whiplash. Normally, no one gets to sneak up at her; she's the black widow after all. She stood frozen when she got a good look at you.

"You," she stammered.

"Hi," you said confidently. Standing on the sidewalk, illuminated by the glow of the streetlight, you look ethereal, dangerous, and hot. You're wearing black leather pants, a red form-fitting suit top, and black coat. You walked towards her until you're a foot away from her, you leaned towards her ear and whispered, "don't forget to breathe, love. I just got you back."

Natasha shivered and released the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Who are you?" She asked as confidently as she could muster.

"(Y/N), I'm the devil you sold your soul to," she answered.

***

Logically, of course, Natasha didn't believe you at first but the longer you two spend time together and the more she sees and experience your unearthly abilities, she accepted it as the truth. One afternoon, she was hanging out your modern, open interior industrial apartment when you caught her staring at you. She looks so relaxed lounging on your bed.

"Anyone ever told you it's rude to stare, " you quipped from the kitchen. Earlier, in whatever it is you two are doing, you have renegotiated the terms of your deal. Instead of being your slave, she'll be your girlfriend for the time being.

"You're so different from the images of you on the internet", she said. You looked at her from across the room and laughed. You've been doing that a lot around here, it ruins your badass reputation.

"Well you've seen me naked enough, there's no way I can hide a pointy tail, " you said as you cross the room and sat beside her. She tried to hide her blush by sipping from the coffee mug you just handed to her.

You were inclined to tease her about it.

***

The next morning you woke up to some intense whispering by your door. You recognized Natasha's and Clint's voice. You've met him enough to recognize him and know that he doesn't like you as a person and for Natasha. You caught some of their argument, it's hard not to in an open layout apartment.

"Nat you have to come home. (Y/N) is not good for you," he said. Natasha scoffed.

"She's literally the devil, Natasha." He said through gritted teeth.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I am aware," she said coolly.

Clint is not having her attitude. He started walking towards the door. "You're wasting your life here with her. She's the devil, she got all the time in the world to play with you. One day, when she got bored with you it'll be too late for you to find someone to really love you, " he said before she slammed the door in his face.

When she turned around you were there beside the coffee machine.

"He's not wrong you know," you said hopping up the counter. Your face stoic, in contrast with the soft look your morning outfit (underwear and her t-shirt) gives you. In the time she's known you, she learned how to read you; and it scares her right now that she can't.

"About what?" She asked, masking her nervousness. She feels like something bad is about to happen.

"You're wasting your life here with me," you said trying not to cry. The devil doesn't cry. When your father slammed the gate of heaven closed in your face, you didn't cry. So you're not gonna cry now.

She walked towards you until she's standing between your legs. You run your hands along her cheeks, you cupped her face and look into her eyes before saying, "you've given me enough. I consider your debt fully paid. I brought you back to life, you should live it. I'm letting you go."

She pulled you into her and she's sobbing in your shirt.

"You're an idiot", she said through hiccups.

You pulled away from her laughing, and you wiped her face of her tears.

Then she pulled you in a kiss that's unlike any kisses you shared before. She kissed you like she doesn't want to lose you. You kissed her back like you want her to stay. When she pulled away, you were both breathless. You leaned your forehead to hers and asked, " what was that for?"

"I'm in love with you, (Y/N). Sure this started out as a deal with the devil but the more I got to know you, the deeper I fell in love with you;" she said solemnly.

A minute passed, you're gaping at her like she has grown two heads.

"(Y/N), please say something" she said nervously.

Unable to form words, you pulled her in for a brief kiss. "I'm in love with you too," you said.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #raven writes #petagoniablue

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eddycurrents · 5 years

Photo

When they said that the event calendar for the release dates of House of X and Powers of X would feature major events that recontextualize and change how you think about the entire event, they weren’t lying. If anything, based on House of X #2, it was an understatement. As much as the first issues of both series have already changed the landscape of Marvel’s merry mutants, changing the characters, and changing the rules, House of X #2 makes you wonder about everything that you’ve seen previously.

This issue also sets in stone that House of X and Powers of X are inseparable. You need to read both, not one or the other, in order to get the full story. They play off of one another more like one continuous narrative, with notes flitting back and forth between the two books, than two discrete stories. The differences are really just a matter of perspective and scope. One book looks at the story from one particular angle, and the other zooms out, looking at a different composite. The way the two play off one another, even this early into the event, is very impressive.

Jonathan Hickman and his collaborators already set a new standard with the first issues of HoX and PoX, House of X #2 takes it a step further and fundamentally changes the rules of the Marvel Universe even. It takes an already existing high water mark and raises it further.

Pepe Larraz and Marte Gracia continue to be a shining light in this story, especially when it comes to permutations. And this issue may well have one of the most pored over and inspected infographics yet.

It is truly astonishing what Hickman, Larraz, Gracia, Cowles, and Muller are doing here.

There will be spoilers below this image. If you do not want to be spoiled on House of X #2, do not read further.

SPOILER WARNING: Below I’ll be discussing the events, themes, and possibility of what’s going on in House of X #2 and beyond. There are HEAVY SPOILERS beyond this point. If you haven’t read the issue yet and don’t want to be spoiled, please stop reading now. You’ve been warned.

PREAMBLE | First Impressions

All I can really say is holy crap. I’ve been highly impressed so far with what House of X and Powers of X have been doing so far, but this one blows all expectations out of the water.

House of X #2 is a truly incredible story that completely reinvents the character of Moira MacTaggert, retcons decades of X-Men continuity in the process, but does so in a way that opens up endless possibilities, new stories, and more, rather than being any kind of forced insert. It’s brilliant. And it makes you wonder about all of the X-Men stories in the past, especially reading interactions with Destiny and Magneto in new contexts, and those that we’re currently reading.

Basically, Moira’s a mutant with the power of reincarnation. She keeps coming back and attempting new solutions and experiments to solve the human-mutant problem like a mutant take on Gabriel Bá and Fábio Moon’s Daytripper.

It also makes a lot of the speculation that many of us, myself included, about what’s going on in the first couple issues possibly entirely wrong. Because it changes the rules. I love it. It’s amazing and ballsy for a series as potentially dissected and analysed as this to just outright break the standard framework entirely.

Also, in regards to Pepe Larraz’s art this issue, it shifts depending on the life that’s being discussed. While Moira and the people around her are mostly the same, the panels shift and take on different shapes and angles per period. It’s a very nice and easy way to show visually that we’re seeing a different life being lived with minimal confusion or reliance on the text.

Marte Gracia continues to deliver exquisite colour art. Like Larraz’s layouts, the colours shift and change, in some ways subtle, in other ways explosively, across the different lives. It’s also impressive whenever a colourist can make an apocalyptic landscape feel dark without it looking like mud.

And Clayton Cowles and Tom Muller remain the cherries on top with letters and design respectively.

ONE | Time After Time

Throwing that spanner in the works of every theory, assumption, and possibility of the first two issues is Moira’s reincarnation abilities. It is a huge retcon that makes you question everything.

It starts out unassumingly enough with an ordinary life, lived to an ordinary span. in an ordinary way. Life One is an interesting way to lead us into this radical change to Moira’s character because it’s ordinary. It’s brilliant to present such a huge shock to the system through such a simple, unexpected life story.

And it spirals out from there as we’re taken back to Moira’s discussion with Charles in Powers of X #1, given more details and explanations of here different lives. From simple destruction chance of Life Two being cut horrifically short to the far flung length of joining with Apocalypse in Life Nine. Some lives an elements are familiar, others radically different from what we know, each apparently giving Moira a different piece of the puzzle in order to figure out the solution to the extreme division between humans and mutants.

I find it somewhat funny, given the text piece in Powers of X that sending mutants into space isn’t one of the primary proposed ideas through any of these lives, but maybe that’s something we’ll see when and if she finally gets things right.

I also find it interesting that one of the lives that gets the most attention is when she picks man over mutant in Life Three. It’s one of the ones that goes horrifically wrong as she decides that mutants are a disease needed to be stamped out, coming up with a cure to eradicate them. It establishes Destiny as an arbiter of justice to temper if Moira decides a similarly destructive path.

The various differently lives briefly shown throughout the story are also fascinating. They beg to be expanded upon through a series of specials and mini-series mining the different possibilities of these alternate existences. They feel rich and well-realized with interesting events informing on Moira’s decisions through her lifespans.

Although they can be left as throwaway ideas within the larger framework of the House of X/Powers of X event, there’s fertile ground here to expand upon in time. Moira VII Assassin could be an interesting, dark, and cynical thriller, especially as compromises to morals and ethics become hollow as the machines manifest anyway. A new Age of Apocalypse in Life Nine practically screams to be explored. It’s fascinating how all of these lives combine, recombine, and mix different common elements and themes across X-Men history and spin out something new.

It also makes you wonder about those time periods in Powers of X #1. We think that X0 through X3 are the same timeline. This issue opens up the possibility that that may not be the case. The futures might be from one of Moira’s previous lives. We don’t know yet what exactly we’re seeing and that uncertainty adds a fair amount of excitement to see what’s coming next.

What we’re seeing in House of X and Powers of X could be Life Eleven, since there are already some radical departures in how Krakoa seems to work, and all of the people who are now alive that were dead. I’ve gone through thoughts as to how it could be messing with time, but Moira’s reincarnations seems to eliminate that theory entirely. It’s also easy in story terms since it would essentially give a blank slate to establish the rules of this new reality, but I think that’s too simple.

I think, however, that we’re currently witnessing Life Ten. For one, we’re referring to Moira often in these series as Moira X, which would seem to infer more that this is her tenth life, rather than necessarily X as in Xavier or X-Men or even as a placeholder X for her multiple possible surnames (Kinross, Cowan, MacTaggert, Xavier). It also potentially rewrites the meaning of the title Powers of X as being more personal, not just referring to the time periods, but these being the “Powers of [Moira] Ten”. It takes all of the huge, reality and time-spanning ideas and humanizes it, making it a personal tale of one woman’s struggles.

I think Life Eleven is triggered at the end of House of X/Powers of X and is the seed for the “Dawn of X” titles spinning out of this story.

TWO | Entanglements

The wider implications of Moira’s powers are felt in how long you’ve been reading X-Men comics and whether or not you want to do a deep dive into the past. It could be fun, it could be maddening, and ultimately the story in House of X and Powers of X doesn’t necessitate it. You can read this still without having ever read a single X-Men comic and enjoy it.

But over-complicating things is a pastime of longtime X-Men readers. These books were written for a long period of time by Chris Claremont, after all.

One of the major things that this shows in various permutations throughout the story is redefining Moira as one of the primary movers throughout history. She serves now as a catalyst for events and direct causes for divergence points creating alternate timelines. In some ways subtle, in others profound.

I’ve stated and speculated previously that Xavier seems different through the first issues of both series, in terms of the X1 Xavier potentially exhibiting telekinetic powers he never had and his kind of creepy character affectations (that could have been continuing on with X’s behaviour from Astonishing X-Men) and the seeming oddity of not knowing who Moira was in X0, which I thought could have been put down to time travel shenanigans, but that seems moot with House of X #2. It’s probably just a new reality that we’re dealing with.

It raises questions as to whether or not Xavier is really a puppet master as previously believed, or just another cog in the Moira Machine, figuring out that possibly the only way to answer the Man-Mutant conundrum is to get Xavier, Magneto, and Apocalypse (and possibly the machines) all working together.

And then there’s Moira’s run during the ‘80s. The Muir Island X-Men. Magneto’s rehabilitation. Working with the New Mutants. Aiding Xavier throughout. It takes on an entirely different element knowing that she was knowledgeable of various events beforehand. It takes working with Freedom Force in an entirely different light. There’s undoubtedly a lot you could dive deeper into in order to figure out how things stack up in this new light.

THREE | Number Six

Curiously missing from the infographic giving Moira’s timeline is Life Six. There’s a gap between Life Five and Life Seven that remains unaccounted for. Nor does it come up when she’s talking to Charles Xavier explaining to him who he is.

For a story that is built on detail and complexity, the omission has to have a reason. And because it’s missing, we can potentially get endless speculation as to why it’s missing.

Personally, I think it could be because it’s actually the baseline Marvel Universe that we knew. Life Ten would appear to be that, being consistent with what we know, but there’s doubt. We’ve been told through Moira’s conversation with Destiny that she has a limited amount of reincarnations, ten, with possibly an eleventh if she got things right.

Or I could be completely wrong and it’s something else entirely.

CONCLUSION | I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts

It’s taken me a while to put fingers to keyboard on this one for a number of reasons, one of the primary ones being that this story just left me gobsmacked. It presents so many different possibilities and reinterpretations that you’ve practically got to tear up the script as to what you thought was going on. It makes you question whether or not anything at all that you’ve read before is in a particular frame or even relevant to a particular frame.

It’s incredible.

Hickman, Larraz, Gracia, Cowles, and Muller have managed to take an already impressive new approach to the X-Men and elevated it further beyond imagining. It’s very exciting. House of X #2 represents an even greater sea change than we were led to believe.

d. emerson eddy is fairly certain he doesn’t reincarnate into the same life if you kill him, so please don’t try.

#Examinations #X-Men #House of X #2 #Jonathan Hickman #Pepe Larraz

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kylo-ren-writes · 5 years

Text

Pumpkin, Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: anon requested:

“Oh oh oh Halloween au? Like going through a haunted house with Kylo and reader getting scared out of their mind? You don’t have to if you don’t want to but tis the season! 🎃🕷🤡💀👻”

Warnings: None.

A/N: So, as I was sitting down to write, I remembered that someone a while back asked if I could write another part to this little fic. I never did because I forgot. Surprise, surprise. Lol. However, I needed to write this anyway because it goes along with part 4, so, here you go anon! I’m very sorry for the wait... (Gif not mine!)

The line drags on more than he likes.

A grumble to your left makes you smile and withhold a giggle as you look up at the man who had made it.

“You’re so impatient.” You smirk as you catch Kylo’s eye. The two of you have only been standing in line for the haunted house for ten minutes, and Kylo is already getting huffy.

Kylo scowls down at you and tugs you closer to him by the arm he has wrapped around your waist. “I hate lines and it’s starting to get chilly outside,” he complains.

It’s nearly 8:35pm, and it isn’t too cold yet, but you had also brought a jacket, which you are wrapped snugly in now. Kylo wore a black shirt with long sleeves, that wasn’t fitted. It was a thicker material, but not necessarily warm.

“You should have brought a jacket,” you quip, leaning into him more to offer your warmth.

The line moves up a bit to where the two of you are halfway to the doors.

“I hadn’t anticipated how many people would want to waste their time doing this sort of thing,” he admits with a grimace.

You roll your eyes. “You’re literally the only person that hates Halloween, Kylo.”

“I don’t hate it,” he corrects, “I just don’t care for it.”

“Whatever you say, grump.”

As you say that, the line moves up yet again, and Kylo is quick to pull you forward to fill the new space.

“Look! We’re almost there anyway. So you can stop scowling,” you tell him.

“We’re halfway there, and no.”

You can’t help but giggle, nuzzling your face into his muscular arm. “I can’t wait to see what you’re like at Christmas,” you tease him.

Perhaps imagining Christmas with him is a little too far into the future for your newly started relationship, but you can’t help it. You love Kylo, even though he’s opposite of you in nearly every sort of way, and you can’t wait to spend every holiday with him... If he’ll allow it.

Kylo groans at the mention of the holiday. “I was hoping by some miracle that you wouldn’t care very much about Christmas.”

You laugh again, just as the line moves up, bringing you closer to the haunted house, and to the warmth of the building inside.

“I absolutely adore Christmas!” You exclaim, and Kylo only groans again.

“... So does my mother...” he mutters.

You smile brightly. Kylo hasn’t introduced you to Leia, his mother, yet, but you’ve nearly been begging him to. “Oh! Then we’ll get along perfectly!”

Kylo smirks. “Not if you never meet.”

Smacking his arm with your hand, you give him a scowl. “Kylo!”

“What?” He muses innocently.

“I’m meeting your mother.”

“Of course you will.” Kylo smiles warmly at you then, and you nearly melt under his soft gaze. “And she will love you.”

You smile up at him. “As much as you love me?” You ask, teasingly.

Kylo leans his head down and kisses you suddenly so you’re caught off guard. But you hardly think about the people that could be potentially watching as you enjoy this sweet moment.

The kiss is brief, but Kylo leans his forehead against yours after he pulls his mouth away. “No one could love you as much as I do.”

The comment makes your heart skip a beat and you spontaneously kiss him again.

The rest of the time spent in line goes by quickly as you spend it with Kylo in a comfortable silence. The closer you get to the entrance, the more excited you feel. However, alternatively, the closer you get, the more grumpy Kylo is. But you’re not even mad. It’s adorable how grumpy and frustrated he is.

Finally, after fifteen more minutes of waiting in line, you and Kylo are finally at the front. The person at the front of the line letting people in explains the typical rules and safety to you, but you’re too giddy to barely listen.

When the man finished his spiel, he finally let you in, and you hurriedly dragged Kylo inside by his arm, like a child with their parent. The two hundred pound man lumbers in behind you, letting out a breath of air at the sudden force. You’re way stronger than you seem.

“Did you even hear what that guy said?” Kylo asked as he felt the warm air hit him. He was thoroughly annoyed, but also amused by you.

“Hmm?” You absentmindedly hum as your eyes adjust to the darkness of the inside, as well as the precarious red lighting pointing you in the direction of where to go.

You’re holding Kylo’s hand, it’s the only thing keeping you from running off, as you pull him through the first set of doors.

Inside is a very gory scene of severed body parts on morgue tables, as well as various tools, like saw blades covered in fake blood, near them. The room itself is decorated to look like a dingy, dirty, rusty morgue, out of a horror movie. Even though you know it’s not real, it still gives you the chills as you and Kylo walk through it.

“I can’t believe someone wasted their time to set this up,” he commented as he observed the place. “I hope they got paid well for it.”

“Kylo,” you say his name warningly. You are not about to let him ruin this experience for you.

Thankfully, Kylo doesn’t comment anything else as you pull him towards the door to the second room. This room was interesting, or about as interesting as gore could get. But the next room seemed more so.

The faint sounds of screaming and yelling are coming from behind the door. The door, however, does not lead out into another room but rather into a very dark, creepy hallway instead, where a very faint light glows at the end of it. Probably just so you can find your way to the end.

You stop dead in your tracks. You’re not evening thinking about the sounds of the yelling right now as your eyes try adjusting to the even darker space.

Kylo rolls his eyes with a smirk, lifting up the corner of his mouth. “Oh come on, it’s just a dark hallway,” he comments, amused.

“I’m scared of the dark...” You reply.

Frowning, you step forward. It’s a long hallway, and the screams are coming from the end of it. It’s not entirely bad, really, but as your eyes adjust, you start to see that there are other open doors down it, and you’re suddenly terrified that someone is going to pop out of one of them and scare you.

“Well, we can’t go back, so, let’s just get it over with,” Kylo says, squeezing your hand as he walks past you.

Kylo takes the lead this time, pulling you behind him. The hallway is too narrow for you to walk side by side, especially with Kylo’s large, broad frame, so you anxiously trail behind him. Of course, while clutching onto his hand, determined not to let go.

You can tell that he is amused. This kind of stuff never scares him. The other night, the two of you watched a scary movie together in his bed, and he didn’t even flinch at any of the jump scares. It was like he wasn’t even human.

The first of the few doors the two of you approach, you tug on Kylo’s hand to get him to stop. “Wait!”

Kylo obeys and turns his head to look at you, raising a brow. He has that stupid smirk of his on his face. “What is it?” He asks.

“Check what’s in the room.” Your eyes dart in the direction of it and Kylo follows your gaze.

“You mean, check to see who is in the room?” He muses. Kylo does, poking his head inside as you whine.

“Kylo...”

“Relax,” he assures you. “It’s empty, just one of those creepy, old, Victorian bedroom scenes that’s in every scary movie with an old house.”

His calm demeanor doesn’t do anything to relax you as he pulls you along with him again. You get to glance into the room as you go by it, and yes, he was right, it’s just a bedroom set up, but it’s still unsettling.

The next room you pass it almost the same, but a frigid breeze comes out of it and makes this new part of the hallway cold. You can’t help but shiver as you get closer to it.

When Kylo peers inside, he shrugs. “Someone left the window open.”

You hate how casual he is, knowing he’s doing it because you’re scared.

But that room, too, is nothing out of the ordinary, other than the opened, large window that leads out onto a white balcony. White, sheer curtains flow along with the chilling, slight breeze, and then you’re whisked away down the hallway to the next room.

Kylo’s curious, you can tell. It’s like he’s looking for an actual scare. Asshole.

“Maybe we should go inside one of them,” Kylo suggests.

“No!” You quickly exclaim. There is no way you are going to spend time in any of these rooms. That’s probably what the workers wanted.

However, you find yourself less scared when you see the next room. It’s the exact same as the other two, almost, just with a different layout inside. This was supposed to be scary? You expected... blood, or, creepy paintings, or fake ghosts. Anything but three, harmless bedrooms--

A tap on your shoulder startles you from your thoughts and you turn around, wondering why Kylo is tapping you when he could just talk to you.

But when you turn, Kylo isn’t the one behind you, no, he’s still very much in front of you, surveying the inside of the room with his critical gaze.

What’s standing behind you instead, is a tall, older woman, dressed in Victorian attire, giving you the coldest glare of life. The person in costume looks hollow and grey, and you jump closer to Kylo, letting out a small scream.

Kylo glances down at you in seconds then catches sight of the women who is only standing there, not moving. “Oh” is all he has time to say before you’re hurriedly pulling him down to the end of the hallway to where the door and screams are coming from.

The asshole is laughing the whole time as he follows you. “It’s only a woman,” he comments. If you weren’t moving as if your life was in danger (which it really isn’t) then you would have jabbed him in the ribs. But your only objective is to get through this door and put it between the woman and yourself.

The screams, and yells, are louder as you rush through the door, Kylo closing it behind him. You don’t even have time to think about the woman anymore as your brain processes what comes next. What you see is less terrifying, but a little too claustrophobic for your liking.

This room is set up like a prison. Cells, with men in each one, line the narrow room on each side so you’re forced to walk down the center of it. It should really be considered another hallway with how little space it gives you.

The prisoner’s, or actors, are yelling and screaming, rattling the bars they are behind as they catch sight of you and Kylo. To get to the next door, you’ll have to walk between their cells.

Your immediate reaction is to back up into Kylo out of fear.

“This one’s interesting.” He’s grinning. This time you do elbow him.

Kylo grunts and you back yourself farther back into him. “You’re so mean...” you whine.

Kylo sighs and softens a little, placing his large hands on each one of your shoulders. “Alright, walk in front of me. I won’t let them touch you.”

You’re hesitant, but you nod, and begin forward, with a little bit of a shove from Kylo of course.

The prisoner’s continue to yell and some even reach out to grab at you, but the bars from their cells hold them back from doing so. It’s still terrifying regardless. They’re acting crazy, insane, and if you weren’t disturbed by the scene, you would be impressed by their acting.

Kylo walks you in front of him, though, making sure you’re safe as the both of you get closer to the end. It isn’t that bad, really, but you’d rather not spend anymore time in here.

When you reach the door, you let out a sigh of relief. The rest of the haunted house goes much the same, with you scared and Kylo either being your protector or laughing at you. He’s fearless either way and you can’t help but hate him a little bit for it.

When the whole experience is over, you’re absolutely relieved and grinning. Even though you were scared out of your mind for most of the time, it was fun.

“That was fun!” You exclaim as the two of you make your way back to Kylo’s car. You’re walking side by side and holding hands.

Kylo gives you a look. “Fun? You were scared the whole time.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, but it was still fun! It’s fun to be scared.”

When the car came into view, Kylo pressed the button on the fob for his car to unlock it while scowling. “You’re strange.”

You only smile and slip into the passenger side as Kylo gets into the driver’s seat. Putting on your seat belt, Kylo starts the car. People are still lined up to go inside. The whole haunted house is a half hour long, it’s a little after 9:30.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” You ask him as you look at him.

“Already packed a bag,” he replies. “I had a feeling you would want me with you after this.”

You smile, but then you frown. “Wait, what does that mean?”

Kylo pulls the car away from the curb and speeds away. “It means I knew how scared you were going to get.”

“You’re so mean!” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. You hadn’t gotten that scared. Or, at least you hadn’t though that you did...

Kylo smirks. “I love you,” he says sweetly as he glances at you.

Huffing, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah, whatever... I love you, too.”

Without looking at you, Kylo offers you one of his hands. You take it, holding it with both of yours. You really do love him so much.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #Kylo #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagines #star wars #star wars kylo ren #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #pumpkin fic

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flamehairedwritings · 6 years

Text

Queen of the Night

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus-Size!Female Reader

Words: 3,111

Rating: M, 16+ ONLY

A/N: Hi, there. This has been written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s Full Figured Fantasy Challenge with the prompt: ‘There is no wrong way to have a body’.

It’s a very personal story so I hope you enjoy.

This story contains swearing and bad intrusive thoughts about your body.

Summary: At a Stark party, it’s up for debate who’s more uncomfortable; you or Steve Rogers.

EDIT: Read Part II here.

MASTERLIST

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

You should’ve known you’d regret it.

Yet you’d felt confident at the time.

Sexy, even, and that wasn’t something you often felt.

Oh my God, I look fucking amazing.

That had been two weeks ago when you were alone in your bedroom and the lighting had been warm and the mirror had been angled perfectly, as it always was.

Now, at Stark’s party, surrounded by bright lights, photographers and all the beautiful and elite of the city, you’re feeling very differently.

Why did I have to go with a fucking body-con.

The dress is gold, clings to you and stops just above your knees. You have no way of hiding and you so desperately want to. You can’t even leave; you’ve retreated to the furthest corner of the large room where’s it moderately quieter and where no members of the paparazzi are lurking. Even the thought of walking across the room, passing people, passing the photographers outside again, is making you sweat and your chest tighten; you have to keep switching the empty glass from one hand to the other so it won’t slip from your warm palms.

“Another one, ma’am?”

Oh, fuck off.

The waitress has returned, a full glass on her tray. She’s giving you the same look as before which she probably thinks is coming off as kindly sympathetic but it’s just pitying. Sheer, fuck-off pitying.

“Yes, thank you.” You smile politely, swapping your glass for the one she offers.

She gives the same chummy smile as before, then turns and leaves.

You release a breath and take a long sip, your gaze flicking about the room.

Everyone’s here tonight, all members of the Avengers, field agents and agents you work with in the offices, which should be comforting but is, in fact, the complete opposite.

You work with these people. You’ve all seen each other at your emotional best and worst. You’ve all seen each other without make-up, in sweats, greasy-haired, huge red spots on your faces, and no one bats an eyelid.

So why is this different?

You know why. No one’s ever seen you in anything tighter than a pant suit.

Stop feeling like shit, it’s so ridiculous.

It’s not like they don’t know you’re fat, fuller figured, plus-sized, large, curvy, whatever word people want to use to define your body, it’s not like they don’t know. It’s not some great secret. It’s just different when you’re sat at your desk helping to save lives because that’s the sole focus.

Now, here, the focus is on each other. It’s a party; people go to parties to fuck, drink and dance. It’s the only chance you all get to relax a little and let go some what. The Avengers can’t, not at these things, they have to be ‘the face’ and act accordingly, but the agents can go relatively wild. You know they’ll all be gossiping about who fucked who tomorrow.

You wonder if they’ll gossip about you, too.

It won’t be cruel. You get on with everyone you work with; you’re never without a witty comment, you’re damn good at your job and you always bring baked goods in for Friday breakfast.

It’ll be the same as the waitress, though. It’ll be pitying, grateful-it’s-not-them whispering about how brave you were to wear the dress, how proud they were that you did it. You’ve already had a few comments of ‘Yes, girl!’ and ‘Holy shit, look at you!’ from colleagues as you passed them to get to this safe corner, but it just sounded so false, too forced. Like they knew you needed the confidence boost.

Go home.

How, though? You’ve led high-risk missions on the other side of the world through an ear-piece and helped negotiate with one of the most temperamental crime lords in the world but you can’t walk across a damn room, order a damn cab and go home.

“Hey.”

Oh, thank fuck.

Turning at the quiet voice, you are welcomed by the sight of the only person in the room probably more uncomfortable than you; Steve Rogers.

And you’ve never felt more relieved.

“Hi,” you answer, matching his smile as he stands at your side, hands in his pockets and his eyes on the steadily escalating dance-off in the centre of the room; Agent Barton’s still winning.

“Not gonna show everyone how it’s done?”

“I will when you do.”

He exhales a laugh, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “I’ll let you know when hell freezes over.”

Silence falls as you sip your drink and he continues to watch his team members dance, Sam Wilson literally throwing his hat into the ring and becoming a strong contender for the winner, and it’s wonderfully comfortable.

You’ve collaborated with Steve on nearly every single one of his missions outside of the Avengers Initiative, and over that time an easy, what you dare to call friendship has formed, one born from the trust you’ve both earned from one another and the respect in your logical, like-minded way of thinking. You were also one of the few who didn’t lobby hard to collaborate with him when he joined SHIELD; sure, you’d made the application, same as everyone else because who wouldn’t want to work with Captain America, but you hadn’t gone out of your way to ‘bump’ into him during training or sent him a hand-written, 13 page letter detailing how he had inspired you to become an agent.

You were nervous before your final interview, having made it to the last three applicants, but you knew you wouldn’t think it the end of the world if you didn’t get the job. Then you’d entered the room and found you’d be having a one-to-one interview with Captain Steve Rogers.

You’d never spoken to him before, only seen him in halls and meetings, and as he rose from his chair and shook your hand, you’d tried very hard to ignore the fact you were shaking hands with a living legend and icon. Albeit a tired but very polite living legend and icon.

He didn’t want to be there but you weren’t offended; this wasn’t how he was used to doing things. He was used to being given information, being dropped into the mission zone and figuring out for himself how best to work through it. He probably wasn’t thrilled at the notion of having someone with less experience in his ear giving him updates every few minutes, making sure he ticked boxes and advising what would be best to do.

In fact, you’d told him that. That had been your opening introduction. You had no idea where it had come from. You weren’t usually that bold with superiors unless it mattered, but something in you had told you this was a time when it mattered. You’d told him that and more, saying you would guide when guidance was needed and advise when advising was needed.

He had blinked in surprise then sat back in his chair and smiled.

Since then it had been the easiest of partnerships. You trusted each other’s judgements, rarely, strongly, disagreed and you both actually, genuinely got on very well. He didn’t mind in the middle of a mission if you started talking about a TV series you were watching, and you didn’t mind that he often called you ‘Hepburn’, a nickname born from when, a couple of months into your new role, he’d told you you’d reminded him of Katharine Hepburn with your assertive opening statement.

At times he’d had to defend you to your superiors for not bringing him in when they’d advised or not reporting him when he’d done something they’d prohibited, and you had got him out of more situations than you cared to count.

You could read each other irritatingly well, so there is no doubt in your mind he knows how uncomfortable you are and the reason for it.

Great.

Drawing his eyes away after a few minutes as Sam is seemingly declared the winner, though Barton seems to just be calling a time-out, Steve looks to you.

“You seem to have done the impossible in this place and found a quiet corner.”

Oh, fuck, is he going to broach the subject now? Why did I wear this fucking dress?

You raise your eyebrows as you nod at the small table before you with an obnoxiously large floral arrangement on it which you’d been using as cover, though he’d still found you.

“I can’t take all the credit, that’s doing most of the work.”

Then, beyond the flowers, you spot a middle-aged couple whispering to each other as they near, one of them trying, and failing, to subtly either film or take a picture of Steve.

“Oh, don’t look now, we’ve been spotted, Captain,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

He exhales a quiet sigh as his teeth briefly graze over his lower lip. “I’m sorry, I’ve ruined your peace.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I was thinking of leaving now, anyway.”

Once I’d stopped being a child and made my legs work.

“Yeah, me, too.” Gazing over your head, you can see the plan he’s forming. “Come on.”

Gently tapping a finger tip against your hand, he then passes behind you and opens the door to your left.

Oh my God, that was unlocked the whole time?

Holding it open for you, he gestures with his head for you to pass through.

You don’t need telling twice.

“You memorised the layout of the place, didn’t you?”

He glances over at you, looking nowhere near as sheepish as the situation probably demands. “Well, it makes for an easier exit.”

The wind carries your laugh.

He’d taken the lead after you’d passed through the door and had known every turn to take, almost as if he’d spent the night before planning various escape routes.

Thank God.

You’d eventually come out behind the building and you’d just arched an eyebrow at him as you spotted his car parked across the street.

Again, thank God.

Then, as you’d gotten in to the car, he’d said something that was even more amazing than getting you out of there.

“You fancy getting pizza?”

“Am I ever going to say no to that?”

He’d laughed at your faux-incredulous response, but you had hesitated for a moment. Eating, in this dress, feeling as you were..?

But then you’d thought, Fuck it, I want pizza.

And that’s how you found yourself sitting on a bench with Steve, a box of pizza between you, gazing out across a lake.

“Do you want the last slice?”

You really do, but... Having had five slices, sat there in a gold dress that makes you stand out like a shining star in the night sky, you wonder for the first time what Steve thinks when he sees you.

You hate the thought as soon as it enters your head.

You’ve gotten this far without thinking it about him; you think it with nearly everyone else you see, but you’d been raised with the idea of Steve just being this golden boy who was kind to everyone, never had a bad or judgemental thought about anyone. It was rare you and Steve were really in front of each other, so much of your work was over the phone or earpiece or through video calls. Even in briefings you’d be sat at a table and you’d be carrying a pile of folders in front of you. It hadn’t crossed your mind to think about what he thought of your body, until now.

“You all right, Hepburn?”

You’re pulled from your intrusive thoughts by his question and shift your gaze over to him.

“Hm? Yeah, sure, just in a bit of a food coma, that’s all.” Even you can hear how forced your laugh is. “You have it.”

He eyes you for a moment before lifting the slice and taking a large bite.

“Thanks for escaping with me, by the way. You really have been with me every single step of the way.”

Oh, God.

This is the beginning of his roundabout, old man way of getting you to open up, you know it is.

“Nearly every step,” you counter, unable to stop a smile from forming despite yourself.

“Oh yeah,” he muses through a mouthful. “Panama. Say, where were you again?”

“In Ibiza, holidaying for the first time in ten years. You ever heard of a holiday? You should try it sometime.”

“I think I have. Wasn’t that invented in the 60s?”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin as you laugh and, damn it, let your guard down.

“What’s going on, Hepburn?” he asks gently, dropping the half-eaten slice back into the box and wiping the grease from his hands. “What’s going on in that brain?”

Your smile falters as you look at him. A quiet breath you realise you’ve been holding leaves you. Looking down at your hands, you fiddle with a ring on your finger.

He waits patiently, keeping his gaze on you.

Just say it.

“Steve... What do you think when you look at me?”

It nearly kills you to say it. You don’t want to know the answer. You don’t want to listen to him. You want to be far away, back in your bedroom with three covers over you and your laptop balanced on your thighs, watching your new favourite show. You want to escape again.

Steve blinks. He hadn’t known what to expect but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I think you’re a very intelligent, debatably hilarious person who I like and I want to be around.”

Your hands pause. Your eyes flick over to him. “... That’s it?”

He blinks again, now feeling rather sheepish. “Do you want more? You are hilarious, you know, it’s not debatable and ─ “

“No,” you quickly cut him off before he gets too carried away. “Well, yes, no, I just thought...”

“You thought what?” he presses after you trail off.

Lifting your gaze to the night sky, you blow out a breath and a second after it, it all just comes out.

“My body, Steve, I thought you’d say something about my body because, you know, how could you not? I know you’re probably just being polite but, come on, it’s the first thing people see when they look at me, you know. It’s not exactly avoidable. I know how people think, Steve, even if they’re my friend they must think some bullshit sympathy thing every time they look at me, you know, people in this world can’t just look at someone for their personality and, I know, I know, I’m more than my body, it doesn’t matter what other people think, I know all that, I tell myself all of that and most days I believe it, I really do, most days I don’t care but sometimes it’s just, some days are hard, especially when I decide to wear a bright fucking gold dress that shows every part of my body and I don’t like it, I don’t like the way I look sometimes and I hate that, I hate that I just can’t... Get over it.”

Another breath rushes out of you, slightly shuddered, and you beg yourself not to cry.

Oh, God, please don’t cry, please don’t fucking cry now.

He doesn’t say anything and you can’t look at him.

Then you feel his hand gently settle over yours, seizing your hands from their playing with the ring again.

“Take it from someone who’s had two very different ones; there is no wrong way to have a body.”

You finally look at him, and it’s not pity you find in his eyes, but understanding. Real, genuine understanding.

“People are going to think bullshit things,” he continues as you stare at him, his hand remaining over yours, a gentle smile on his lips, “They’re gonna take one look at you and think they’ve got you all figured out. But none of that matters. I know it’s hard to not think about it, but they don’t know a damn thing about you, what you’re really like. Those kinds of people aren’t worth knowing, anyway. It’s never how you look but what you do and how you behave that stays with people. I know it takes some time to unlearn society’s ‘rules’ and start really learning to love yourself but it can be done.” He squeezes your hand lightly. “And I wasn’t kidding, you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re kind, you’re funny, and that’s what I see when I look at you. I see the person that you are.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. His smile widens a little more as you squeeze his hand in return, your lips lifting into a smile that almost matches his.

“Thank you, Steve,” you murmur, afraid if you speak any louder that your voice might crack with emotion.

“Don’t mention it,” he answers, the pad of his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve been there.”

Clearing your throat, you feel real relief as you quietly confide, “I just wish I hadn’t worn something so tight and bright, you know.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m glad you did, Hepburn. Otherwise I would never have found you behind those damn flowers and I wouldn’t be here now with my favourite person.”

You feel your cheeks flush as you arch an eyebrow. “I’m your favourite person, huh?”

“Yeah, you are.” You think you see the faintest hint of colour rise on his own cheeks as he releases your hand and sits back. “I look forward to talking to you every day. Even when you ramble on about the Netflix.”

You laugh as he smiles, knowing that gets you every damn time.

“Y’know, now that you mention it, last night I started a show─”

“Okay, all right.” Steve closes the pizza box and wipes his hands on his thighs, feigning a sigh of resignation. “Before you start and I can’t get a word in, I think this calls for sundaes.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Always gotta have dessert.” Getting to his feet, he turns to you, then pauses, and a corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other.

“Oh, God, what? Is there sauce on my face?”

“No, you’re fine, Hepburn,” he laughs as your hands fly up to your face. “Just look like the damn queen of the night is all.”

Your eyebrows shoot up as your cheeks flush again. “Oh...” Clearing your throat, you smile as you tilt your head. “That how you talk to all the girls back in the day, huh?”

He laughs as you get to your feet, holding out his hand to you. “No, that one’s just for you.”

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future work!

Tagged: @fearandloathing-in-missouri, @persephone-divine, @jobean12-blog, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

#star's full figured fantasy #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers #my writing #flamehairedwritings #captain america #captain america x female reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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buckyscrystalqueen · 6 years

Text

The Cards: Part 1

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1,829

A/N: Just because.... you know why..... and if you don’t, you will......

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

For weeks, your life had been nothing but cups. Past, present and future; it was always the same.

The four of cups always came first, showing discontentment in your past life. You could never deny that card in your past with all the horrors you had seen.

The Queen of cups was next, and you always found it a fitting description of your life. Happiness and success with your little metaphysical shop in Chelsea, New York; the card called out your caring, sensitive side. You were absolutely guided by your emotions and trusted your gut feeling with everything in your life.

The knight of cups was always last, which you found rather interesting. An arrival of good news was on the horizon, or quite possibly something more.

The first time you laid the spread, almost a month ago, you smiled to yourself, wondering what the news could be. The second day, you became a little curious. Day three, you used a different deck and were stunned to reveal the same outcome. Day after day, deck after deck, you got the same three cards. You even went as far as having two different friends read for you, all to receive the same exact layout. So the day that the layout finally changed came as a complete surprise.

——

You shuffled the worn out cards in your hands as you stood behind the glass counter in your currently empty shop. Sunlight filled the room, sending rainbows of color dancing along the light blue walls from the crystals you had placed around your store. The gentle babble of various fountains broke up the deafening silence the snow outside had cast upon the city. You inhaled the scent of sage and lavender as you mentally sent your intentions out to the universe, waiting for it to tell you when it was ready. Your hands paused mid-shuffle; you smiled and nodded as you felt the slight shift around you.

Four of cups.

You nodded again, accepting the fate that the universe had deemed represented your past best. You picked up the next card from the deck in your hand and laid it down. Your brow furrowed and you did a double take.

Knight of cups.

“So we have movement in the universe.” You giggled as you ran your fingers over the knight on the card. Curious to see what the next card would bring, you brushed your thumb over the worn deck and laid the third card down. Your head automatically tilted to the side as you looked at the colorful picture.

The Lovers.

You only had a moment to look at the card before your door opened and a gust of wind sent the three cards flying. You reached out in an attempt to grab them; only managing to get the four of cups. You watched, however as The Lovers card landed between you and the door, face up on the floor and the knight of cups landed right at your visitors feet. ‘Well if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.’ You thought as you put your deck down and went to pick up the cards.

“Hello, how are you today?” You picked up the lovers card and looked up at the man as he picked up the knight card. He glanced at it for a moment before finally looking up. You smiled at him as his piercing blue eyes looked hesitantly around the store. The aura he gave off told you he didn’t really believe in what you did but you knew there was a reason he was here. With a nervous smile, he handed you the card. When he looked back at you, you could almost feel the agony and torment his eyes showed that he kept off his handsome features.

“Friend of mine told me about this place.” His voice was quiet as he almost nervously looked down at his boots. He ran his hand through his shoulder length brown hair and huffed as a small smile crossed his face. “She, uhh… she said to say hello to the owner.”

“Well that would be me.” You laughed as you walked back over to the counter to put your cards back on your deck and to give the man some space. “Who’s your friend?”

“Umm… her name is Wanda.” Your smile grew. You turned back toward him and leaned back against the counter.

“Wanda, my little Avenger baby. She’s a good girl. Fascinating stories and an even more fascinating aura. Would that make you an Avenger as well?” He glanced up at you and shrugged as he started slowly ambling around the shop.

“Not really… kinda… I guess.” You nodded as you forced yourself not to laugh.

“How about we start with a name so I’m not calling you ‘Mr. sorta, not really an Avenger’.” His smile grew as he looked back up at you again.

“Bucky.” You pushed off the counter and walked across the little shop. Wanda had told you very little about the mystery man in your store.

“(Y/N).” You held out your hand to him with a smile and he nodded as he shook it firmly. “So, Wanda sent you to me for a reason. Mind if I pry a bit to try to help you a bit better?” You let go of his hand and gestured to a small room right next to the end of your counter. You used it for readings usually so it was the perfect place to get to know him.

“I don’t know if I believe in this… stuff.” He gestured around the store as he followed you through the Tree of Life tapestry you used as a door. You nodded as you let the fabric door close.

“You may not think you do but there is a reason you are here. Whether that be desperation or the universe speaking to you, no one knows.” You gestured to the grey chair on the right side of the room as you sat down directly across from him in an identical chair. You tucked your bare feet up onto the seat and dropped your long, black skirt over your legs to cover the scars that decorated your legs and lower torso. You found they sometimes creeped people out.

“Alternative medicine is essentially the treatment of issues using natural means on top of or in place of prescription medication. May I see your hands, please?” You held out your hands, palms up and waited for him before you continued. You could see his hesitation as he slowly pulled his left hand from his pocket. Your brow furrowed ever so slightly as the sound of metal plates shifting caught your attention. He watched your face, expecting fear or disgust, as he pulled off his glove to reveal a metal hand. You didn’t show any other sort of reaction as he laid it palm down on your palm. You simply flipped it over with your fingers and continued as you looked at the story the lines of his right hand told.

“Now, some people call what I do witch craft. I say those people need to get their heads out of their asses but that’s just me.” He chuckled as you ran your thumb across his calloused palm to straighten out his long fingers a bit more. “I, personally, specialize in crystal healing. Sara, who is like my second in command, is a herbalist. We believe that sometimes, traditional medicine isn’t enough for some people. We have found that using what nature has given us tends to be more helpful to those people. Some people prefer to use only natural methods. But it must be said, that we are not doctors and you should always consult with a professional first.” You looked up at him with a smile as you gently closed his hands with yours. “You’ve lived an extremely long life and have seen a lot of things, Bucky. But you are carrying a weight you don’t have to carry anymore.” He pulled his hands back to him and you placed your hands, palms up, on your knees.

“How do you know that?” You huffed as you raised your finger in the air and spun it in a circle.

“The universe doesn’t lie. What bothers you, honey? I don’t need any details you don’t wish to give. I can work with basics. Physical, mental, spiritual- I got an aid for it all.”

“I… umm…” He cleared his throat as he tried to figure out what to say and where to start. Your heart broke at the pain he held in his eyes and you quickly rushed to help him.

“How about we start with physical? Work our way up from there?” He nodded as he pulled his glove back on.

“My shoulder bothers me from time to time. They…” His voice fell off as he reached up and rubbed his left shoulder. You waited for a moment to see if he would go on before you nodded.

“Clear Quartz is an amazing master healer.” You got up from your chair, gestured for him to follow you and pulled the curtain back. “Selenite is good for shoulders specifically, amongst other things.” You walked over to a shelf along the far wall and looked back at him. “Pick one from this box and one from this one. Don’t think; just grab the first one that speaks to you.” He nodded as he took a hesitant step forward.

“So these rocks just make the pain go away?” You laughed and nodded.

“In my experience, yes. You just have to tell yourself that they work whether you believe in it or not. Fake it until you make it.” He nodded as he grabbed two crystals and looked at them almost curiously. You gently took his hand in yours. “This is the quartz, keep it in your pocket all the time. At night when you’re laying down in bed, lay this one, the selenite, on your shoulder for a half an hour or so. It’s ok if you fall asleep with it on your shoulder you won’t hurt it and it won’t hurt you. But don’t get it wet. Selenite will dissolve if you get it wet.” He nodded as he used his thumb to roll the crystals around on his palm.

“So what do I owe you?” You brushed him off as he looked up at you.

“On the house. The universe is telling me you’ll be back.” He smirked as he closed the stones in his palm and put them in his pocket.

“Maybe just to see you again.” You smiled and shrugged.

“Only the universe knows. Tell Wanda I say hello.” He nodded as he turned and headed toward the door. He paused as his hand wrapped around the door knob.

“Thank you for your help.” You grabbed the side of your skirt and curtseyed with a laugh.

“I’ll see you again, Bucky.”

Part 2

#Bucky x Reader #The Cards

54 notes · View notes

theonyxpath · 6 years

Link

It’s that time for a brief (riiight) look at just why we even have Monday Meeting Notes in order to have this blog. As we tighten up and re-purpose this and our other blogs, as you may have noticed these past few months, let me fill you in on just what this one, in particular, is all about.

Really, it’s an extension of the basic idea of starting the week off with a situation report that looks back at the last week to see what was accomplished, and looks forward to the coming week and what needs doin’. Full disclosure, I stole the idea from my head of Creative Services back in my TV days, and grafted it to the company-wide lunch meetings we had in the first months of White Wolf way back in the day.

Back then, I used the meeting to see if the production team had hit their goals from the meeting before, re-evaluate those goals based on why they were missed, and if they were met we set new ones at the meeting. They were individual goals, mostly, and such things as “Finish Mage splat character pencils”, or “Get half of Wraith laid out”, or “Get quotes from three different printers for the Aeon plastic book”.

By doing this during the meeting, the whole department was aware of both the challenges and the status of the various parts of the creation of the books. Sam needed Josh to finish those Mage splat drawings so he could get the initial layout done, for example. I’d also share the info I had learned during the previous Friday’s X-Meeting, which was the name for the WW weekly managers’ meeting. So long as the info was not top secret, I’d share it so that our team had the best information to base their decisions on.

It was a good system, and we had fewer left hands not knowing what the right hands were doing. I even heard rumors that the developer boyfriend of one of our designers would ask her for notes on the info to share with the devs at their meeting.

So naturally, I incorporated a Monday Lunch Meeting when I started Onyx Path. Putting the notes up in this blog was also based on a previous incarnation, this time with notes that started informal but turned into a formal weekly thing years later at WW after we had internet venues to post them to. With our belief in community and transparency, it just made sense to use this blog format to provide a regular reporting on how things stand at Onyx.

They Came From Beneath the Sea! art by Aaron Riley

Plus, for me, this was the modern equivalent of Stan Lee’s Soapbox, a “column” that appeared in the news page of Marvel comics way back in the day that enabled the lead guy at Marvel to continue to talk right to the reader, even if he wasn’t working on every book like he had been.

Love him or hate him, Stan succeeded in making readers feel that there were actual people involved in the making of the comics. At least young Rich Thomas did as he pored over the new X-Men – isn’t that Wolverine from Hulk? – and all the other 20 and 25 cent comics.

As for the meeting itself, we’ve actually put together a pretty organized routine at this point. We start the meeting with any big-picture, company-wide news. Then, Eddy, Matthew, and Dixie go through the status of the upcoming projects they have oversight over, then Mirthful Mike goes over where the projects are in art direction and layout. We discuss all news about the projects, with special emphasis on any roadblocks they are having.

Then Mighty Matt McElroy goes over any Operations news – which is basically things like conventions, sales and sales venues, business opportunities, etc. If there’s anything not covered previously, like vacations or the like, we wrap up with that.

Using their reports, which are also written out and updated each week, I then update the project progress parts of this blog, and then pick through the jokes and banter to get to several topics that the gang discussed in more detail that I think you folks will be interested in.

Which is really a huge part of the point of this blog. Where once, Monday Lunch Meetings allowed our staff to be aware of what everybody was working on, now the Monday Meeting Notes blog is set up so all of you erudite blog readers can look right into what we’re up to, and how, each week.

Cover art for Wraith20’s Handbook for the Recently Deceased by Michael Gaydos

And with that, here are a few highlights from the meeting today:

We’re excited to announce that we’re partnering with Fabricate, LLC to provide Scarred Lands adventures for Expedition!

Expedition is a light RPG using cards and a smartphone or tablet. Whether you’re new to the genre or a D&D veteran, whether you’re playing alone, with a group of friends, your spouse or with your kids – anyone can learn to play in less than 5 minutes! There are new quests and adventures every week, and the Expedition community can even create their own adventures and share them with others. With this new license, Scarred Lands-specific content will be available as booster cards and through the app. The team are really excited about this, so don’t be surprised if you see them posting in our Scarred Lands forums soon as well! If you want to learn more about Expedition, you can look them up here: https://expeditiongame.com/

Gen Con 2018 is only a month away, and we’ve been busy with new brochures (one with all of our lines, and one just for Storypath System games), pins, card hand-outs, signage, all that con stuff we do. We’ll be announcing at least one new license, new projects, and two separate “What’s Up With the Onyx Path?” panels (Thursday and Saturday) which will pretty much cover the same info although the panelists may differ. It’s an experiment to see if we can open up more time for everybody, not jamming folks in to one session. There’s also a freelancing panel and a developer boot-camp session for those creators wanting to get into the biz.

The Onyx Pathcast audience continues to grow, and last week the Trio of Terror interviewed writer and developer Steffie de Vaan and talked a lot about Promethean. This Friday’s Pathcast is all about freelancing in general, since they all do that, and freelancing for Onyx Path specifically. Plus, we’re making plans for some Onyx Pathcast broadcasting at/from Gen Con. More on that when we know more.

We went over the Fetch Quest Kickstarter a bit, just reaffirming that it did well for its audience, but didn’t break out into the larger card game audience. It would have been nice, but we funded and more than tripled that amount, so it will be great to have it in stores. Card games are still something that we’ll do when a cool idea comes our way, and we’ll continue demoing Fetch Quest and Prince’s Gambit, and see where that kind of exposure leads.

Next, we have prepped most of the material for the Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition Kickstarter, and are audaciously planning on putting it live on Monday, July 2nd at 12 noon EDT. We think that the audiences for this and Fetch Quest are significantly different, so there shouldn’t be much KS fatigue, and so we can run this before Gen Con. If, for some reason, we can’t make that happen, we’ll run it over Gen Con – but I’m trying to give our guys a break by letting them enjoy the con and any August vacations they so rightfully deserve without worrying about an ongoing Kickstarter.

So, like we end with every week, you know:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER:

Thanks, everyone who backed Fetch Quest and helped us bring it to stores!

Next up, Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition Kickstarter…we’re aiming at starting this Kickstarter at 12 noon EDT on Monday July 2nd…if we can!

ELECTRONIC GAMING:

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking!

Here are the links for the Apple and Android versions:

http://theappstore.site/app/1296692067/onyx-dice

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.onyxpathpublishing.onyxdice&hl=en

Three different screenshots, above.

ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue you bought it from. Reviews really, really help us with getting folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

Vampire: The Masquerade: The Endless Ages Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Rites of Renown: When Will You Rage II (Kindle, Nook)

Mage: The Ascension: Truth Beyond Paradox (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: The God-Machine Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Mummy: The Curse: Curse of the Blue Nile (Kindle, Nook)

Beast: The Primordial: The Primordial Feast Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Masquerade: Of Predators and Prey: The Hunters Hunted II Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: The Poison Tree (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Songs of the Sun and Moon: Tales of the Changing Breeds (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Requiem: The Strix Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Forsaken: The Idigam Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Mage: The Awakening: The Fallen World Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Masquerade: The Beast Within Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: W20 Cookbook (Kindle, Nook)

Exalted: Tales from the Age of Sorrows (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: Tales of the Dark Eras (Kindle, Nook)

Promethean: The Created: The Firestorm Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Demon: The Descent: Demon: Interface (Kindle, Nook)

Scarred Lands: Death in the Walled Warren (Kindle, Nook)

V20 Dark Ages: Cainite Conspiracies (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: Strangeness in the Proportion (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Requiem: Silent Knife (Kindle, Nook)

Mummy: The Curse: Dawn of Heresies (Kindle, Nook)

OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there!

https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://theonyxpath.com/press-release-onyx-path-limited-editions-now-available-through-indie-press-revolution/

And you can now order Pugmire: the book, the screen, and the dice! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=296

DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

This Wednesday is a veritable Sword and Sorcery Day, with the DriveThruRPG releases of the PoD version of the Scarred Land‘s adventure the Dagger Of Spiragos, and the PDF and PoD versions of the third of the Scarred Lands adventures: the Ring of Spiragos!

Along with the Gauntlet of Spiragos, these three adventures provide an outstanding way to first get into the epic fantasy Scarred Lands setting – available in both 5e and Pathfinder versions.

As if that wasn’t enough, it is the last Wednesday of the month – so here are our Monthly Exalted 3rd PDF downloads:

For Hundred Devils Night Parade, we have Susurrus and Lodestar, and for Adversaries of the Righteous, we have Fivefold Mask & Lies.

CONVENTIONS!

Prep is seriously underway for Gen Con 2018 in the first week of August, which takes place in Indianapolis. In addition to our booth presence, be sure to check out the games and panels in the Gen Con Event Schedule.

From Fast Eddy Webb, we have these:

Eddy will be speaking at Broadleaf Writers Conference (September 22-23) in Decatur, GA. He’ll be there to talk about writing for interactive fiction, and hanging out with other writers who have far more illustrious careers. http://broadleafwriters.com/3rd-annual-broadleaf-writers-conference/3rd-annual-broadleaf-writers-conference-speakers/

Eddy will also be a featured guest at Save Against Fear (October 12-14) in Harrisburg, PA. He’ll be running some Pugmire games, be available for autographs, and will sometimes accept free drinks. http://www.thebodhanagroup.org/about-the-convention

If you are going and want to meet up, let us know!

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM FAST EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

CofD Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Tales of Excellent Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

Adventures for Curious Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

Changeling: The Lost 2nd Jumpstart (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Witch-Queen of the Shadowed Citadel (Cavaliers of Mars)

Redlines

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

In Media Res (Trinity Continuum: Core)

Wr20 Book of Oblivion (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

Second Draft

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Night Horrors: Shunned by the Moon (Werewolf: The Forsaken 2nd Edition)

Dog and Cat Ready Made Characters (Monarchies of Mau)

Aeon Aexpansion (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

C20 Players’ Guide (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Development

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

Fetch Quest (Pugmire)

They Came From Beneath the Sea! Rulebook (TCFBtS!)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Dystopia Rising: Evolution (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

Manuscript Approval:

Editing:

Guide to the Night (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

Post-Editing Development:

Scion: Hero (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Core Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Trinity Continuum: Aeon Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exalted 3rd Novel by Matt Forbeck (Exalted 3rd Edition)

GtS Geist 2e core (Geist: the Sin-Eaters Second Edition)

M20 Gods and Monsters (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Night Horrors: The Tormented (Promethean: The Created 2nd Edition)

Indexing:

Wraith 20

Cavaliers of Mars

Monarchies of Mau (Monarchies of Mau)

ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Scion Hero – Stuff is progressing…slowly, but progressing.

Trinity Continuum

Geist 2e – KS artwork continues.

The Realm

M20 Gods and Monsters

Ex3 Dragon Blooded – More sketches coming in.

Promethean Night Horrors: The Tormented – Sketches and finals coming in.

VtR – Guide to the Night – Sam is doing the fulls and cover.

Marketing Stuff

Posters and Displays

Gen Con Cards

In Layout

Fetch Quest – Playtest decks uploaded.

Proofing

Scion Origin – Onyx review.

Changeling: the Lost 2 – Josh is working on the interior fixing.

Storyteller System Brochure

At Press

V20 Beckett’s Jyhad Diary & Beckett Screen & V20 Dice – KS backer rewards shipping.

Scion Dice – At fulfillment shipper.

Monarchies of Mau – In Indexing.

Monarchies of Mau Screen – Files sent to printer.

Cavaliers of Mars Screen – Files sent to printer.

Wr20 Guide for Newly Departed – PoD uploaded.

Gen Con Buttons – At press.

WoD and CofD reroll cards – At press.

FQ and PG Gen Con cards – At press.

Wraith 20 Screen – Files sent to printer.

GenCon Brochure – Files sent to printer.

TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: Although the one-year anniversary of his passing was last week, here’s to the creative work and legacy of my friend, and co-founder of White Wolf, Stewart Wieck. A year? Really? Doesn’t seem real.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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loadneeds708 · 3 years

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Select photos and press Command (macOS) / Ctrl (Windows) + Shift + H for HDR merging and Command (macOS) / Ctrl (Windows) + Shift + M to create a panorama. For more information, see Merge photos to create HDRs and panoramas. Drag photos from your computer directly to a desired album in the Albums panel. When contributing photos to shared albums, you can now choose to include keywords, star ratings, flags, and GPS coordinates in the Add Photo dialog box. You can export photos contributed by others to shared albums. This is only possible if the album owner has granted contributors access to the download. how to get a lightroom premium for free now automatically completes keywords when you enter them. This helps avoid typos and duplicate keywords.

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In the “Learn” section of the home screen, you can start a tutorial and hold the screen at all times to see changes before and after the photo. You can now specify keywords, star and flag ratings, and GPS coordinates when adding photos to shared albums. Export photos to shared albums if the album owner has granted access to the download. You can now download and install Lightroom from the Samsung Galaxy Store. However, you cannot install the app if you have already installed Lightroom from the Google Play Store. App updates in the Samsung Galaxy Store and the Google Play Store are exclusive. For more information, see Manage Lightroom subscriptions in the Samsung Galaxy Store.

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Processor Intel® 6thGen or newer CPU – or AMD equivalent Intel® 7thGen or newer CPU – or AMD equivalent

Operating system Microsoft Windows 10 (64-bit) version 1803 or later Microsoft Windows 10 (64-bit) version 1809 or later

RAM 8 GB of RAM 16 GB of RAM for HD media 32 GB for 4K media or higher

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Monitor resolution 1280 x 800 1920 x 1080 or greater

Sound card ASIO compatible or Microsoft Windows Driver Model ASIO compatible or Microsoft Windows Driver Model

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Internet An Internet connection and registration are necessary for required software activation, validation of subscriptions, and access to online services.*

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GPU 2 GB of GPU VRAM 4 GB of GPU VRAM

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Monitor resolution 1280 x 800 1920 x 1080 or greater

Network storage connection 1 Gigabit Ethernet (HD only) 10 Gigabit ethernet for 4K shared network workflow

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