some silence right now would be marvellous

DEFENDERS!  A humble pitch!

Readers and retailers!  We will be doing some serious press in a couple of weeks but as you will start placing your orders soon and I wanted to give you the hard sell on DEFENDERS. 

This is a book we are very excited about. For those you don’t know we are  launching an all new DEFENDERS in June. It is all new material written by myself and drawn by my iron Man and Civil War collaborators @davidmarquez and the amazing @jpocolors

 my history with these characters is, let’s say, pronounced. First of all, some of you know that I’m one of the creators of Jessica Jones. Doesn’t get more intimate than that.

The second season of the show is filming now. Since her TV debut she has become a worldwide media sensation. It still stuns me to this day. 

For those who have not been reading the new Jessica Jones series, things are very different for her and Luke. Their relationship will be the cornerstone of Defenders just as it was sometimes back in New Avengers.

In fact, let’s talk about NEW AVENGERS. where i staked my reputation and put Luke Cage right front and center

 if there was a major marvel event, I tried to make sure Mr. Cage, for the first time in his long history, had something to say about it

CIVIL WAR 1

SECRET INVASION

Plus, I was writing Alias, Daredevil and two Avengers books simultaneously and it created a situation where I could develop the relationship between Jessica Jones and Luke Cage into something very real…

And I love Daredevil so much. I have missed writing him. 

And returning to the character under this decidedly different scenario has been very fulfilling creatively.

When I was writing all these characters previously, I initially steered clear of Iron Fist because he was being written by two really good friends of mine Matt Fraction and Ed Brubaker in the seminal run with David Aja.

 but once he became available…

 we even found a cool way to connect the iron fist saga to the Phoenix saga

we introduced the white costume which is the best costume! 

when I was done with avengers I was already preparing this book.  I was.  I pitched it publicly in on my last page…

and then something happened…

They all became big ass tv stars!

And all those who spent the aughts MOCKING me for a Luke cage ‘crush’… were silenced!! as I was proven right!! again! :-)

And now finally the stars align for us to make this very special new book. Our goal is to create a brand-new, very dangerous, very exciting tapestry for the  street-level comics. All of which will be centered around these four amazing characters but almost every single character you can think of that would fit in the mean streets of marvel will feature in this book. 

They will be threatened by new players, new threats, old scores, and new rules.

 issue three? The punisher

 here is an exclusive look at some of issue number one, two, and the ALL NEW free comic book day story that sets everything up in the Guardians FCBD issue available at all participating comic book stores all over the country on free comic book day May 5

 these are not in any sequential order, but check this out…

That’s my pitch! People always ask me what they can do to support their favorite comics… go to your local store and preorder. 

That means the store will set one aside for you and that means we will set one aside for the store.

 See you for free comic book day they where many of you are going to be shocked by what you find in that story… and then just a couple weeks later defenders number one and the all-new chapter for these characters that you and I love so much

bonus item, the Neal Adams. Cover for number one

remember that time comics legend Neal Adams drew Jessica Jones? :)

sherlock starters ( season one episode two.)

  • “ the more a tea-pot is used, the more beautiful it becomes.”
  • “ four hundred years old. they’re letting you use it to make yourself a brew.”
  • “ some things aren’t supposed to sit behind a glass. they’re made to be touched.”
  • “ sometimes you have to look hard at something to see it’s value.”
  • “ i don’t suppose, um… i mean… i don’t suppose that you… you want to have a drink?”
  • “ you wouldn’t like me all that much.”
  • “ can i maybe decide that for myself?”
  • “ i can’t. i’m sorry. please stop asking.”
  • “ could you maybe keep your voice down?”
  • “ yes, all right! i’ve got it!”
  • “ you took your time.”
  • “ yeah, i didn’t get the shopping.”
  • “ what? why not?”
  • “ because i had a row in a shop with a chip and pin machine.”
  • “ you… you had a row with a machine?”
  • “ sort of. it sat there and i shouted abuse.”
  • “ have you got cash?”
  • “ you could always go yourself, you know? you’ve been sitting there all morning, you haven’t even moved since i left.”
  • “ not interested.”
  • “ i sent them a message.”
  • “ don’t worry about me, i can manage.”
  • “ is that my computer?”
  • “ what, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up?”
  • “ it’s password protected.”
  • “ took me less than a minute to guess yours. not exactly fort knox.”
  • “ you need to get a job.”
  • “ listen, um… if you’d be able to lend me some… are you listening?”
  • “ hiya buddy. how long has it been, __ years since i last clapped eyes on you?”
  • “ you need anything? coffee? water?”
  • “ right… you’re doing that thing.”
  • “ it’s not a trick.”
  • “ how could you tell? you’re gonna tell me there’s a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in manhattan. or it was the mud on my shoes.”
  • “ now, i’m glad you could make it over without a break-in.”
  • “ someone broke in late last night.”
  • “ well, that’s where this gets really interesting.”
  • “ find it, and we’ll pay you. five figures.”
  • “ i don’t need an incentive.”
  • “ you said that just to irritate him/her.”
  • “ so you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?”
  • “ got all i need to know already, thanks.”
  • “ they’ll lead us to the person who sent it?”
  • “ so what do we do now? sit here and wait for him/her to come back?”
  • “ nobody ever does that.”
  • “ hi, um… i live in the flat just below you. i don’t think we’ve met.”
  • “ no, well i just moved in.”
  • “ actually, i… just locked my keys in my flat.”
  • “ yeah, and can i use your balcony?”
  • “ you okay?”
  • “ yeah, any time you feel like letting me in.”
  • “ thanks, i’ll take your word for it.”
  • “ problem?”
  • “ i’m not desperate to root around some bloke’s dirty underwear.”
  • “ oh, good, you follow.”
  • “ yeah, i know who you are. and i’d prefer it if you didn’t tamper with ___”
  • “ yes, it does seem the only explanation of all the facts.”
  • “ wrong, it’s one possible explanation of some other facts.”
  • “ you’ve got a solution that you like, but you’re choosing to ignore anything that you see that doesn’t comply with it.”
  • “ amazing you didn’t notice, all you had to do is look around this flat.”
  • “ good, you’re finally asking the right questions.”
  • “ he’s left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course could never be done.”
  • “ it was a threat, that’s what the graffiti meant.”
  • “ i don’t think this can wait. sorry.”
  • “ lost five million a single morning, made it all back a week later.”
  • “ i hired you to do a job. don’t get sidetracked.”
  • “ you’re a bit overqualified.”
  • “ i said could you pass me a pen? about an hour ago.”
  • “ didn’t notice i’ve gone out, then.”
  • “ this ___ might move a bit quicker if you were to take my words as gospel.”
  • “ you are not serious… like spider-man?”
  • “ why did they die?”
  • “ where are we headed?”
  • “ i need to ask some advice.”
  • “ what? sorry?”
  • “ you heard me perfectly, i’m not saying it again.”
  • “ i’ve got two minutes before a community support officer comes around that corner.”
  • “ can we do this while i’m working?”
  • “ what about the symbols, do you recognize them?”
  • “ not sure it’s a proper language.”
  • “ what, this is what you’ve got to go on?”
  • “ are you going to help me or not?”
  • “ no. no, wait, wait - it was not me who painted that, i was just holding this for…”
  • “ bit of an enthusiast, are we?”
  • “ you’ve been a while.”
  • “ yeah, well, you know how it is. custody sergeants don’t really like to be hurried, do they? just formalities. fingerprints. charge sheets, and i’ve got to be in magistrate’s court on tuesday.”
  • “ me, in court, on tuesday! they’re giving me an ASBO!.”
  • “ can you print me out a copy?”
  • “ what about the day s/he died, can you tell me where s/he was?”
  • “ your friend… he’s an arrogant sod.”
  • “ whatever you say, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”
  • “ how can you tell?”
  • “ you want a lucky cat?”
  • “ but why did they die? i mean, it doesn’t make any sense.”
  • “ remind me, when was the last time that it rained?”
  • “ do you leave your windows open when you go on holiday.”
  • “ do you think maybe you could let me in this time?”
  • “ can you not keep doing this, please?”
  • “ somebody’s been in here before me!”
  • “ what are you saying?”
  • “ i’m wasting my breath.”
  • “ any time you want to include me.”
  • [mockingly] “ no, i’m ___ and i always work alone because no-one else can compete with my MASSIVE INTELLECT!”
  • “ the, uh, milk’s gone off and the washing’s starting to smell. somebody left here in a hurry three days ago.”
  • “ you’ve gone all croaky. are you getting a cold?”
  • “ found something you’ll like.”
  • “ tuesday morning, all you’ve gotta do is turn up and say the bag was yours..”
  • “ forget about your court date.”
  • “ if you want to hide a tree, then a forest is the best place to do it, wouldn’t you say? people would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message..”
  • “ if we’re going to decipher this code, we’re gonna need to look for more evidence.”
  • “ answer your phone! i’ve been calling you! i’ve found it..”
  • “ i don’t understand. it-it was here … ten minutes ago. i saw it..”
  • “ somebody doesn’t want me to see it.”
  • “ hey, ___, what are you doing?”
  • “ shh, ___, concentrate. i need you to concentrate. close your eyes.”
  • “ no, what? why? why? what are you doing?!”
  • “ i need you to maximize your visual memory. try to picture what you saw. can you picture it?”
  • “ how much can you remember?”
  • “ well, don’t worry!”
  • “ because the average human memory on visual matters is only 62% accurate.”
  • “ yeah, well, don’t worry, i remember all of it.”
  • “ yeah, or at least i WOULD if i could get to my pockets! i took a photograph…”
  • “ god, i need to sleep.”
  • “ fancy a biscuit with that?”
  • “ centuries old. don’t wanna break that.”
  • “ you’ve been clever to avoid him/her so far.”
  • “ who is s/he? have you met him/her before?”
  • “ careful! some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old, have a bit of respect!”
  • “ how many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac’s out there?”
  • “ what are you thinking? pork or the pasta?”
  • “ oh, it’s you!”
  • “ i’d stick with the pasta. don’t wanna be doing roast pork. not if you’re slicing up cadavers.”
  • “ don’t eat while i’m working. digesting slows me down.”
  • “ you’ve… changed your hair.”
  • “ no, it’s good. it, um, suits you better this way.”
  • “ do you mind if we have a look at them?”
  • “ what do you want?”
  • “ we’re still no closer to finding them.”
  • “ wrong. we’ve got almost all we need to know.”
  • “ are we collecting for charity?”
  • “ anything else i can do? to assist you, i mean.”
  • “ some silence right now would be marvelous.”
  • “ i’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
  • “ this is taking ages.”
  • “ what’s the point of making an appointment if they can’t even stick to it?”
  • “ um. what’s going on?”
  • “ i’m sorry, that’s not very professional.”
  • “ so, um. what were you doing to keep you up so late?”
  • “ i need to get some air. we’re going out tonight.”
  • “ actually, i’ve, er, got a date. it’s where two people who like each other go out and have fun.”
  • “ that’s what i was suggesting.”
  • “ oh, dull. boring. predictable. why don’t you try this?”
  • “ thanks, but i don’t come to you for dating advice.”
  • “ it’s years since anyone took me to the circus.”
  • “ a friend recommended it to me.”
  • “ you couldn’t let me have just one night off?”
  • “ come on, ___, behave!”
  • “ i need your help.”
  • “ i do have a couple of other things in mind this evening!”
  • “ you are kidding.”
  • “ what’s so important?”
  • “ you said circus. this is not a circus. look at the size of this crowd. this is… art.”
  • “ did you see that?”
  • “ come on! let’s go!”
  • “ you don’t know?”
  • “ i’ve done everything you asked. ___, s/he seems to think your advice is worth something.”
  • “ please tell me i’ll have something to show for it. other than a massive bill for overtime.”
  • “ well, i think perhaps i should leave you to it.”
  • “ no, no, you don’t have to go. you can stay.”
  • “ yes, it would be better to study if you left now.”
  • “ is it just me or is anyone else starving?”
  • “ so this is what you do. you ___  for a living.”
  • “ what are these squiggles?”
  • “ oh, right! yeah, well, of course i should’ve known that!”
  • “ i’ve done punch and a bowel of nibbles.”
  • “ ___, you’re a saint!”
  • “ oh, we must’ve been staring right at it!”
  • “ um, shall we get a takeaway?”
  • “ do you have it?”
  • “ forgive me if i do not take your word for it.”
  • “ yes, that’s not actually mine. s/he lent that to me.”
  • “ i realize what this looks like, but i’m not him/her.”
  • “ what? did i really say that?”
  • “ i s’ppose there’s no use in me trying to persuade you i was doing an impression.”
  • “ if i wanted to kill you, i would’ve done it by now.”
  • “ i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
  • “ please. please, listen to me.”
  • “ i’m not… i’m not ___. you have to believe me.”
  • “ i haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for.”
  • “ i don’t believe you.”
  • “ you should, you know.”
  • “ how would you describe me, ___? resourceful? dynamic? enigmatic?”
  • “ that’s a semi-automatic. if you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second.”
  • “ if you miss, the bullet will ricochet. could hit anyone. might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you.”
  • “ it’s all right. you’re gonna be all right. it’s over, now. it’s over.”
  • “ i go where you point me.”
  • “ hang on; a hairpin worth nine million pounds?”
  • “ i will not reveal your identity.”
Sucker Punched

A/N:I slapped this together over the past couple weeks, and I really hope you guys like it!

pairing: Reader X Bucky

oneshot/chapter: oneshot

word count: 4233

warnings: abuse, guilt tripping, language.

———————————————————————————————————

I cough out a breath as I stand after having been thrown down onto the mat. I look up to see a concerned Bucky, stooped down to make eye contact.

“I’m fine, Buck.” I say, waving him off.

“Are you sure? You seemed to land pretty hard.”

“I’ve taken harder hits and falls before. Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” I retreat to my duffel in search of my water bottle.

“Okay.” He concedes.

It’s true. I have taken harder hits. Some of of them are the perks of the job, and most others are from home. I’ve got a few bruises around my rib cage to prove it. No one knows. I cover up what I can with clothing and the rest I mask with make-up. It’s not that I don’t trust the team enough to tell them, it’s that I don’t trust how they’ll react when they find out. It is my fight afterall.

“Hey, do you think you’ll stick around for movie night?” Bucky asks. “The entire thing usually sucks, but I think it would be better with you there. I mean, most things are.”

“I’m sorry, Buck, but I can’t. Josh has some sort of night in planned and he wants me home at…” I check the time quickly and my stomach drops. “Oh shit. I have to be there in fifteen minutes. Oh man. He’s gonna be so pissed.”

I shove my belongings into my duffel and practically run for the door.

“Wait!” Bucky calls after me. “Are you going to be at Stark’s party tomorrow?”

“Of course.” I say with a sarcastic eye roll. “Tony said he would cut me from the team if I don’t. Empty threats, but I’ll be there none the less.”

“Okay. See you then?”

“Yeah.” I nod in affirmation. “See you tomorrow.”

With that I sprint out of the room, out of the building and into the busy streets of New York City.

Keep reading

“At Least It Happened While He Was Asleep” Thominewt oneshot

an AU I’ve created - the Death Day AU

Warnings: I wouldn’t exactly call this angst. It’s just sad fluff okay I’m sorry

A/N: There’s this saying “every year we go through our day of birth celebrating it. The weird thing is that we also go through our day of death having no idea that it’s it.” This prompted me to an AU idea where people do know their death day and month, but not year, so they spend one same day of every year freaking out.

“Hogan, the peace is nearly won across the Nine Realms. You should stay here. Be with your people, where your heart is. Asgard can wait,” a smooth bass speaks as a flash of blond hair fills the entire width of computer screen.

“You have my thanks, Thor,” the shot cuts to an Asian-looking man in slinky black armor.

“As you have mine,” comes the reply, a sentry noble smile adorning the demigod’s face as he nods slowly in acknowledgement of respect for his interlocutor.

It’s Newt who breaks first. He suddenly sighs, chest a little shaky with the weight of his dooming thoughts, and leans forward to press the space bar on their laptop keyboard. The movie pauses on Chris Hemsworth’s close up that would have been extremely attractive under any other conditions. But not now.  

“Are we gonna talk about it?” the boy prompts, nervously readjusting his legs on the couch.

Thomas places a hand on his thigh, as if trying to ask wordlessly to postpone this talk for a little longer. Newt meets his pleading gaze determinedly, shoulders tense with anticipation.

Thomas sighs. He knew this conversation was coming but he’d hoped it could at least wait until the movie is over.

Newt props up, supported by palms, his whole body language showing that he’s waiting for the younger boy’s response. It’s Minho who breaks the silence though.

“About what exactly?” he says, wiggling his back to slide a little lower on the sofa and get comfortable with his legs on Newt’s folded knees.

“Oh, I don’t know. We could discuss the weather, or this movie we just didn’t watch, or Kim K’s nudes, and maybe just maybe the fact that my birth certificate states I might be a bloody goner by tomorrow night.“ There’s subtle hint of irritation mixed with something that sounds a lot like panic in the voice, the kind that Newt trusts not to appear noticeable for his boyfriends.

Minho shifts. "There’s a vague chance of that,” he reminds, teeth digging into his bottom lip – a habit he only seems to recall having when he’s feeling anxious. None of them would admit it, but all three know that Newt’s asthma makes those words hard to believe.

“God, I hate these days,” Thomas sighs, closing his eyes for a moment to gather all the patience he has.

Celebrating the day of one’s birth is pretty much a global thing. It’s always cheery and endearing with endless display of affection towards the hero of occasion, heaps of shabby wishes repeating themselves over years as a worn out habit, some presents if that’s how it works for particular customs, and a blissful positive vibe.

Going through the second date mentioned in birth certificate, however, is not as promising to say the least. The broadly loathed day has four very important digits missing which makes it even more unbearable to cope with. The death day with its standard “unknown year” addition to the precise month and day. Are you going to die today? Is it going to happen on this day twenty years from now? That’s above one’s cognition.

“I’m thinking you should stay home to start off with. I’ll manage a day off and hopefully so will Thomas. We’ll look after you and spend the day together,” Minho suggests, keeping himself distant from any form of sarcasm.

The Asian’s speech usually turns slightly too formal when he’s showing no signs of wittiness on rare, rare occasions. His boyfriends even had a conversation once about whether it actually takes effort from Minho to keep his sharp tongue at bay. They’d concluded it probably does.

Thomas nods approvingly. "I second that. We’ll watch some more Marvel movies and cuddle.”

An uncomfortable moment of silence hangs in the air before Newt shakes his head slowly. “You’re kidding, right?”

Their romantic relationship is about 7 months old now. They haven’t gone through this kind of situation together before; Newt’s death day is the first they’ll have to deal with. Thomas was pretty sure they’ll come up with a routine for these days over time – staying home and being lazy sounded like a great plan to him. Until Newt crashed his vision with those three simple words.

“How else would we spend the day?” he tries to be careful with the question, unsure of what Newt has in his mind.

“I’m not locking my arse inside, and you two are not taking a day off to babysit me. It’s my bloody fate, if it’s happening tomorrow than nothing can change that,” the blonde states harshly, breath hitching at the intensity of his own words, panic drifting along his mind for a brief second of fear that he may have an asthma attack right here and now.

“It’s not about that, Newt,” Minho argues softly, sitting up straight and entwining his fingers with the blonde’s on his lap.

“It’s not like we wanna try to prevent what may happen to you tomorrow,” the youngest boy supports, crossing legs under his weight. “We just want to spend the day with you. Be next to you when it happens or better say doesn’t happen.”

“I see your point,” Newt gives an unintended light squeeze to Minho’s hands in his. “How come you two are in sync about this?”

“We’ve been discussing it for weeks. Had to come up with some sort of plan before the actual day comes,” Thomas confesses, leaning his head onto Newt’s shoulder since the blonde is positioned in between him and Minho.

“I don’t have the bloody nerve to see your faces if you get to watch me die. That’s too much to ask for. I’m gonna go to work tomorrow,” Newt shakes his head, shooing away the images of his teary-eyed boyfriends from his mind.

He’s ready for the argument, ready to fight back the boys confronting him, but to his surprise there’s a warm pair of lips gently leaning on his knuckles and a silent “okay” seeping from Minho’s mouth.

“You’re good with that?” Newt asks, taken aback.

“As long as that’s what you want,” the Asian reassures rubbing a thumb across the back of the other boy’s palm, voice never having sounded so gentle.

Newt looks over at Thomas, and seeing him nod, noticeably relaxes, letting a long-tamed sigh vibrate his chest.

“That’s sorted, then,” he breathes again, unable to hide the tremble of his respiration.

It’s scary. Newt is an adult and Newt is a strong man. But it’s still scary.

Facing death is not what he thought he’d be afraid of, since he once tried to draw it himself. He later realized it was stupid of him to attempt suicide on the day that’s not supposed to be the one for his death. He’s got a crack on the bone of his ankle as a painfully tangible consequence of this accident.

The truth is that knowing the exact day of your end and at the same time not knowing it at all is very, very stressful. Newt’s past the death wish, he has two boys sitting on his both sides that are worth living for. Yet there he is, a step before losing them forever if tomorrow’s the day.

It’s not the oblivion that Newt fears.

“Hey,” a familiar voice pulls him out of the thoughts and the blonde pays his attention to the source of his salvation. “It’s okay, Newt. It’s gonna be okay.” Thomas is smiling at him fondly with a hand sunk in the sandy desert of his blond hair, ruffling the strands in slow patterns.

Newt notices the younger boy’s other hand merged with Minho’s over his knees with the fingers of the bigger boy rubbing soothing circles over Thomas’s moles. His peripheral vision shows him the image of Minho’s eyes fixed on Thomas, encouraging the boy to stay strong.

It hits him like a truck on a free laboring highway. It’s not all about him. He may be the one doomed to die tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only one fearing that day. Hell knows, he’s not as bothered as his boyfriends probably are. Suddenly, there’s an image in his mind, a blurred scene playing before his eyes. Thomas’s and Minho’s silhouettes sit on opposite sides of the lunch table, patiently waiting for Newt to come from work, silence only interrupted with Minho’s occasional grumbles about the food cooling.

“It’s soon,” Thomas probably said out of the blue, startling Minho.

“I know,” the Asian probably replied, watching Thomas’s eyes moisten.

He probably crossed the table and squeezed Thomas in a hug, pressing kisses to his forehead and reassuring that Newt is too young to die this year. Thomas probably leaned into the touch, letting himself weep because yes he is fucking allowed to cry over this.

“I’ve never felt this before on the eve of my death day,” Newt admits, shoving the vivid fantasy as far away as he can manage. His eyes don’t fix on any of the two boys around him. The ground is okay to stare at for now.

“Felt what?”

“Apprehension,” Newt looks up into Minho’s eyes, not quite daring to glance at Thomas just yet. Over these months he learnt that Thomas is not the type to hold his emotions back and right now he can’t bear with the worry that he caused in the young boy’s eyes. Minho, in contrast, stays rock calm, but from the way his grip unwillingly tightens on Newt’s hand and his lips get yet another nip from his teeth, Newt knows Minho’s far from being calm.

“That’s just the fear speaking in you. We’re gonna be okay,” the Asian assures, tilting his head to the right to cast a quick glance on Thomas behind Newt’s back and make sure the boy isn’t freaking out.

For a moment Newt considers replying with a no, explaining that over all the past years of his life he’s never once sensed this squirming in his chest that makes him feel sick in the stomach and shudder with his whole external body.

But he lets go of the thought as quickly as he grasps it, with just one look over his shoulder at Thomas, who looks like he is about to burst out in tears.

“You’re right, Min,” Newt says quietly, doing his best to prevent his voice from cracking. “It’s probably not a big deal. And besides, I’m not planning on leaving you two alone just yet, so there’s no way in bloody hell I’m gonna die.” He smiles sympathetically at Thomas and nods to confirm the genuineness of his own words.

He watches as Thomas takes a deep breath and his reddened eyes swallow the gathered tears back. The young boy wraps his arms around Newt’s waist from behind and presses his face against Newt’s back, pressing a lingering touch of lips on the soft fabric of Newt’s hoodie.

“I’ve had a crush on you two for two fucking years. Now when I finally got you, I’m not letting go. Death can fuck off,” he mumbles, making Newt chuckle and loosening up the tension in the air.

The familiar weight of Minho’s head descends onto his lap and Newt can’t help but sigh, running hands through the smooth coaly hair of the boy and ruining its perfectly styled look. Minho closes his eyes, hums at the feeling of his hair being played with, and lifts his eyelids to look up at Newt and Thomas from beneath.

“I love you,” he whispers in an exhale, pupils darting from one boy to the other. The words slip into air and seem to hover like a dome above the three of them.

The meaningful words have never been pronounced by any of the boys during all seven months of their relationship. Minho thought he’d have chosen the moment to say them carefully, one day when he’d treat his boys out to someplace pretty. During a picnic under the night sky of New York, next to the lake where they first met. Or perhaps in the coffee shop where they had their first date. But he’d postponed the do for too long and now he felt like he needs to say it in case Newt doesn’t get to hear that ever again.

His body is tense; he wonders whether he fucked up when nothing comes as a reply. The oxygen in air seems to have turned into a heavy metal, pressing on his shoulders, hard.

It’s then, when his eye catches a movement of something dark over him leaning down, and suddenly there’s a pair of warm lips tenderly leaving their taste on his mouth, not quite in a right angle, but it still sends a wave of shudder through Minho. Thomas pulls away after a while, straightening his back since he had to bend his body down and reach for Minho on Newt’s lap.

Newt never stops his hands from caressing the Asian’s hair. There’s a smile on his face that Minho can’t interpret as anything else but sadness and it breaks his heart to see the blond boy’s beautiful eyes twinking in this sorrowful smile.

He watches as Thomas leans his head on Newt’s shoulder once more, turning the elder boy into the one thing that holds both him and Minho. The blonde throws one hand over Thomas’s back, squeezing the boy onto him and placing a kiss on top of his head, other hand still in Minho’s hair on his lap.

They sit there in silence for a while, an unspoken feeling soaring in the atmosphere around them.

“I love you. Too.” Newt finally speaks, not a hint of hesitation in his voice, first locking his eyes with Thomas and then looking down on Minho. “I don’t care I sound like a sissy. You two are the best thing that happened to me since my bloody birth.”

“You don’t-“ Thomas trails off, giving Newt a chance to finish in case he meant to say something else, but when the blonde doesn’t continue, he speaks up again. “You don’t sound like a sissy. And I love you. And you,” he looks over to Minho.

There it goes, he muses after, they all said it and they all meant it, as imperfect and flawed as it could have sounded.

“That’s it. Let’s go,” Minho pushes himself up from Newt’s lap and sits straight for a moment to clear his vision after the abrupt movement. He then stands up, dragging the boys after him to the bedroom door.

They snuggle into their favourite posture with Minho in the middle of the king-sized bed and the two boys on his chest and stomach, under the cover of his strong arms.

It’s dark and silent for a long moment, Newt’s uneven heavy breaths the only noise emitted into air. There’s brief dry kisses pressed onto skin every now and then and tiny shudders of bare chests from the familiar warm sensations of lips, but no one dares to break the unbearably severe silence.

“Minho?” the blonde calls at some point, looking up at the Asian’s closed eyes.

“Hmm?” Minho humms, sending a wave of pleasant little vibration over the other boy’s cheek pressed to his shoulder. His grip tightens slightly around both of his boyfriends, squeezing their heat into him.

“Kiss me,” Newt murmurs against the hug and Minho obeys, planting a sweet kiss on the boy’s lips, lingering it for as long as he can afford.

“Tommy?” The boy’s name is enough to have him doing the same then; his kiss is surprisingly more forceful and brief. Newt feels how the young one is trying to show with all his passion that this is not the last time he’s kissing his boyfriend. There’s going to be plenty more of kisses after tomorrow is over.

That helps Newt to relax and let out a muffled exhale. He’s lucky to have these two. That’s the last thought he has before falling into the darkness of sleep.

That’s the last thought he has before he doesn’t hear the sirens of ambulance outside their apartment. The last thought he has before he doesn’t see Thomas burying his soaked face into Minho’s shoulder. Doesn’t hear Minho yelling at no one and at everyone at the same time. Doesn’t catch the fatal words pronounced next to his slumbering body.

“At least it happened while he was asleep.”

  • This is so cheesy. It’s a little too cheesy I believe. I’m sorry if I overdid this. I hope it was enjoyable to read
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