#not even technically a comic this bad boy is two slides

[black-and-yellow]

#Saw a man bite straight through a chicken bone on YouTube. #I was gripped. In awe. #A jaw strength rivaled only by - I thought to myself - Present Mic #can't even remember how I got onto the video but it's stuck with me ever since #he had a captivating positive vibe. I would enjoy a meal with him. The chicken looked a little underdone though #bnha #mha #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #present mic #bnha comic #not even technically a comic this bad boy is two slides #always thinking about the rooftop gang naming Sushi like 'whats everyones favourite food?' #and Yamada says 'fried chicken' like that would be the best name for a cat- actually. you know what. that is a pretty good name for a cat #Might call my next tarantula Fried Chicken. Who knows? #Edited the last panel to take out the speech bubble cause it looked like I was implying it was weird to eat bone marrow #But I meant the entire bone itself like the crunchy bit #But apparently they do that in some places so I thought that it might come across as a bit insensitive and I didnt wanna get cancelled. #eat bones if you want I would love to eat bones but I'm a coward #It's not really a thing in the UK I don't think. I've never seen anyone do it. I guess we just produce a lot of food waste. #so nobody was going to tell me you could eat bones? I just had to find out myself on Youtube?

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 20

of the wwx emperor au that still doesn’t have a damn title

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

Wei Ying is sure that Lan Zhan recognizes him right away.

He would like to think that his evasion skills and footwork are memorable enough, for Lan Zhan to instantly make the connection. But to be fair, it is more likely that Lan Zhan has noticed him repeatedly stealing glances at the Nie Sect table, even when it almost cost him an arm.  

He tries to focus on the fight. Not a scratch, he had promised, and he means to keep that promise. But it feels as if days have passed since he has seen Lan Zhan last, although it has hardly been longer than twelve hours. 

Lan Zhan is wearing white again. His hair is half tied. The belt around his waist is wide, embroidered with a delicate cloud pattern. He looks very stern and dignified, and it is obvious that he disapproves of Wei Ying being so utterly distracted.

Wei Ying wins, but it is a close call, and he scolds himself for his lack of focus.  

It is worse when Lan Zhan fights.

Wei Ying had watched Lan XiChen fight, and he had been impressed with what he saw. But now, Lan XiChen seems only a pale copy.

Lan Zhan is graceful. Lan Zhan is lovely. Lan Zhan is ruthless.

Lan Zhan does not even cross his blade with the TingShan He disciple, simply kicking him off the platform. The man flies into the Jin Sect table, nearly knocking it over.

A moment later, the tiny Nie Sect disciple pinches him so viciously that Wei Ying yelps.

“Will you stop sighing?” the boy hisses, “What is wrong with you?”

“That hurt,” Wei Ying whines, rubbing his waist.

This kid is a tiny feral beast. Wei Ying would very much like to kick him into the Jin Sect table as well.

“Good,” the boy says, “You are going to bring us all bad luck.”

When they are matched up against each other, Wei Ying pays the little beast back in triplicate. The kid tries to bite him, so he does not feel too badly about it either.

Jiang Cheng wins against Jin ZiXuan. Lan Zhan wins against Jin ZiXuan and Jiang Cheng. Wei Ying wins against Chen XiuYa and Fan XiaoHu, although Fan XiaoHu tries to disembowel him three times, and almost succeeds once.

Wei Ying truly admires that girl. He can stick his entire arm in the slice her sword had made through his leather robes. But she did not draw blood, and technically, Wei Ying is still unharmed.

By the time he is finally facing Lan Zhan across the platform, the sun is beginning to sink.

Lan Zhan raises his eyebrows at the slice in Wei Ying’s robes, and Wei Ying tugs at the cloth, showing the skin underneath, free of scars.

“Not a scratch,” he grins.

The harried expression on Lan Zhan’s face is the most delightful thing Wei Ying has seen all day. He very much wants to see it again.

The delicate silver ornament in Lan Zhan’s hair is glinting in the sun. His robes are being tugged slightly by the breeze, the fluttering folds of white resembling butterfly wings. The intricately embroidered belt around his waist is much more exquisite upon closer inspection, and Wei Ying thinks if he were to put his hands around it, his fingers might meet.

For the second time in one day, he is nearly disemboweled, and he feels really happy about that, for a number of reasons no one else would understand.

“Pay attention,” Lan Zhan says, looking exasperated.

Wei Ying is fascinated with the way Lan Zhan moves. His forms are so light and fluid, it is difficult to believe the sheer amount of strength they hide. Wei Ying gets another slice in his robe, but has yet to manage to bring his own blade anywhere near Lan Zhan. Their swords slide against one another, bringing them face to face.

“Focus,” Lan Zhan snaps.

Wei Ying is trying. He does not think that he has ever noticed the faint scent of sandalwood before, but now it is all he can smell. This close, he can see each tiny detail of Lan Zhan’s eyes. The lighter ring in the middle is a deep, burnished gold, a tiny speck of black marring the left iris.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Wei Ying says.

Only after the words have left him, does he realize that he had spoken out loud.

For a few moments, they’re both locked in place, breathless with shock. Then Lan Zhan’s face hardens.

“Shameless,” he hisses.

Wei Ying gets to experience the same kick that had eliminated the TingShan He disciple.

He manages to stay inside the boundary, but it is a close call, and he wavers comically on the edge of the platform for a few moments before managing to get his balance back. It hurts to breathe. The bottom two his his ribs feel broken. Lan Zhan is standing in the same place, unmoving, his face cold. The tips of his ears are bright red.

Wei Ying grins.

This time, he attacks first, but Lan Zhan is ready for him, sliding easily out of the way. It is a bit more difficult to avoid being stabbed now, what with the whole pain in his ribs thing, but he tries not to let Lan Zhan notice, afraid the man would see it as breaking the promise. Technically, Wei Ying still does not have a single scratch on the outside, but he thinks Lan Zhan will not appreciate an argument about semantics.

Suddenly, Lan Zhan freezes.

Wei Ying barely has time to redirect his strike. He follows Lan Zhan’s gaze, which had shifted towards the East watchtower, and sees a tiny speck in the sky, moving with incredible speed.

He turns cold.

There is no time to consider where it is heading. There is no time to react. He can only watch helplessly as the arrow flies above them.

It disappears among the blue silk curtains of the Emperor’s canopy. 

A moment later, screaming starts.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #wangxian #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #short chapter AND a cliffhanger #and it's not REALLY a sword fight because people participating in the sword fight would need to actually idk pay attention #don't hate me

[dorevenge]

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 4: except the willow

SUMMARY: Maria is forcefully escorted from the betting room, when she encounters the owner of the casino himself.  [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 [4] 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

November 20, 1959 – Monaco, France, The Hellfire Club

I’ve never thought about my what last words would be. I had always assumed I would be 98, having aged better than brie, lying in bed surrounded by my family, my curls perfectly falling around my face, with a pristine pale pink lipstick and pearls on my neck and diamonds on my ears. I’d have outlived my husband, as I’ve always flocked towards older men, but I would see him reflected in my great-grandchildren, one of whom would have shared my philanthropic interests. I’d leave them all with some well-planned poetry, a single sentence that would change every one of their lives, resound in them and inspire them to change their actions for the better, but, as of now, due to my arrogant foolishness, my last words were to be “I’d rather stay here and keep losing.” And no one would remember them.

Thick arms wrap around mine, hiking me up by the armpits, and I am escorted out of the casino and through the hotel lobby, my high heels scrambling to make purchase on the ground below me. The few people scattered in the lobby pause to look at me, and then keep walking. The fun from the baccarat game has dwindled, the rosiness falling from my cheeks and panic settling in my chest. I couldn’t pull against them; there’s no way I could win in a fight even with some of Peggy’s training. I should have taken her up on her thigh holster offer.

The men stop briefly at the front desk. “What room is Ms. Carbonell staying in?”

“Obadiah won’t let you get away with this,” I grit, my arms pinned behind my back.

“Mr. Stane is currently preoccupied.” One of the men asks for a spare key, and the desk attendant fumbles in the cabinet to find the correct one.

A man in glasses walks past, tall but not intimidating, broad-shouldered but not bulky, nose buried in a pile of papers in his hands, and glances up, pausing to evaluate the scene. Our eyes make contact, and it takes him a second to evaluate my panic.

“Do you need any help, madam?”

“She’s fine,” one of the suited men replies. I’m too startled to scream, or speak, or even think at all. All I can hope is that someone in the lobby reads my face and intervenes. Grumbling, they forgo the key, and pull me out of the hotel lobby towards the parking lot.

This is how I’m going to die, I think, reminiscing what a waste finishing school was since I never learned to hold my tongue anyway, and it is my penchant for petty remarks sending me to an early grave. I can’t keep up with their pace, my high heels catching in almost every dent in the asphalt, and I almost lose my balance several times.

We approach a long, sleek black car with darkened windows, and I finally start calling out, “Obie! Obadiah!” to the empty parking lot, writhing against the arms around me.

“Ms. Carbonell! I think you dropped an earring.” The voice comes from behind. It’s the man in glasses, walking swiftly, with authority, except for the little cowlick of dark black hair on the right side of his head, twirling in the breeze as he stalks forward.

The men holding me turn to confront him as he takes off his glasses and slides them into his breast pocket. The men’s postures drop and their faces fall. Their grip on me lessens. He runs a hand through his hair and stares them down.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Release Ms. Carbonell at once.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Stark, she-”

“You do know what at once means, don’t you, boys?”

They release me.

“I cannot apologize enough, Ms. Carbonell, for the behavior of these men. If they offend you again, I will personally write to their employers.” He looks at each one of them sternly, in turn.

One of the men stiffens defiantly. “We didn’t recognize you, Mr. Stark. In the betting room-”

“When you are the one who owns the casino, only then should you be concerned about its finances.” Stark’s stern face softens when he turns to me, offering me his elbow. He nods at each man with authority, and they shrink away. My heart is still racing, and I still must not be thinking straight, because I loop my arm through his, my life in the hands of yet another stranger.

-

The dinner at one of the restaurants inside Hellfire is delectable, but dining with the owner probably helps. There were too many options on the menu that I eventually pointing to something at random and ordered that. I had very little to say, besides non merci to the waiters who kept offering us champagne and thanking Mr. Stark for his kindness. The anxiety has set into my bones and I can’t help but fidget.

“I already told you, Maria, just call me Howard.” Up close, I can see that he’s older, probably in his forties. Creases line his eyes and mouth, probably from charming the pants off too many investors, and the investors’ wives.

“Okay, Howard, does wearing glasses actually work? To go unnoticed.” I peer at him over the top of my waterglass.

“It does. Works wonders. I had read about it in a comic and wanted to give it a try. People act different when their boss is lurking around the corner, and sometimes I just want to be a guest in my own hotel.”

A waitress clears Howard’s empty plate, leaving my full one, and she brings the dessert menu to him. Without looking at it, he hands it back to her, ordering two beignets. She asks if we need anything else, chest puffed high and smiling bright, and Howard responds in near-perfect French without looking away from me. The waiter walks away, dejected, her hopes of charming the billionaire dashed.

I pick at the dish, too rich for my current anxious appetite. My anxiety hadn’t run out of fuel yet. “What’s eating you, doll?”

“Why were those men watching me? And where were they going to take me? I wasn’t cheating.”

“I know you weren’t cheating.”

“You know? How?”

“There are cameras everywhere in the game rooms, tiny ones in lamps and plants and around every corner. They can tell when someone is cheating, and your moves seemed very intentional. And putting money in my pocket isn’t exactly cheating.” I don’t ask how the cameras would be able to tell, as I’ve been to two of his expos now and haven’t understood any of the gadgets presented. Any explanation would just go over my head. I wonder how many cameras litter the restaurant.

He doesn’t answer my question and instead asks one of his own. “Why were you spending your partner’s money like that?”

My partner. That’s right, I am technically in business with Obadiah; we’ve kept our short engagement to ourselves, and he’s always introduced me as his accountant. I slide my hands into my lap to hide the ring on my finger, and slide the ring off once it’s out of view. “My answer to your question might be the same as your answer to mine.”

Howard’s face lights up, and he leans forward on the table to get a better look at me. “So you’re clever, too, and not just pretty.” He doesn’t ask it like a question, but a statement, and I try with all my might not to blush like a child. The waitress returns and clears our plates, bringing the dessert he ordered. Howard leans back with a sigh. “I’ve kept my eye on Stane for the last few years. Not a bad man, but not a great one. Desperate. I was desperate, too, for a while, ‘til I realized the only thing that gets you anywhere is hard work. That’s how America does it.”

“He says while dining in France.”

“Hey, I paid for the meal in America dollars, doll.” His smile is wide, and honest, and youthful and endearing and… and it belongs to Howard Stark, notorious womanizer. Still, I find myself smiling in return, chin propped up in my hand, gazing at him. I can’t get caught up in his displays of wealth, but his confidence is something else. Obadiah isn’t confident like Howard. Howard has confidence to spare. He could bottle it and sell it, and convince everyone he met to buy it, that’s how confident he is. “How long are you in Monaco?”

“I leave November 22nd. Obadiah has had long meetings every day.”

“And because he leaves you alone in your room, you squander his earnings at the betting table in retaliation?” I look up at him, in surprise and defense, and he chuckles to himself.  “If I were him, I’d bring you to every meeting with me. You belong in the business room. What do you do at Stane International?”

“I keep the books. Accounting. I went to Columbia.” I want to impress him.

“And what do you do when you’re not working?”

“I work a lot with charities.”

“When you’re not working.”

“I suppose I dine with handsome strangers in foreign hotels.”

Howard takes one bite of the dessert delivered, then wipes his hands and rises to his feet. “Let’s go have some fun, Maria.”

-

“You’re only here for one more full day, is that right?” Howard asks me from the rooftop of the Hellfire Club. “Spend it with me. Obadiah won’t mind.”

He’s right; Obie wouldn’t even notice, and I don’t feel guilty for accepting. “What do you have in mind?”

We sit up there for hours, talking until sunset, the wind licking at his hair, teasing it from the gel. The soft colors of dusk make Howard look younger. I want to kiss him, I realize, and I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone before. At least, not like this. I push the feeling down deep. Every woman wants to kiss Howard Stark, with his deep brown eyes and his even deeper pockets. And if he wants to kiss me, he’ll have to work for it.

As if reading my mind, he whispers, “God, Maria, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’d give it all up just to kiss you.”

“Does that line usually work?” I turn away. I feel like a child in his gaze, naïve and eager.

“I don’t know. I’ve never used it before.” I don’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me. I fix my gaze hard on the horizon in front of me. After a moment, “Actually, I take it back. I don’t want to kiss you until I’ve earned it. I want to do right by you, Maria. I’ll become an honest man for you.”

I want to believe him, but I also believe the stories. I don’t know what makes me so special in Howard’s eyes, but I feel more seen with him than I ever did with Obadiah, and it’s the last sign I need to leave him.

#where ignorance is bliss #wiib reading #marvel #iron man #howard stark #canary writes a fanfiction

[damianwaynerocks]

Ghosts in Gotham

Danny Phantom / DC Comics

Dedicated To: @lexosaurus​

Summary: The Batfamily has been through their fair share of the supernatural. That’s why they originally weren’t worried whenever ghosts started showing up in Gotham City. Until one day, something happens; Batman is captured and taken into the Ghost Zone. With no way to go in there themselves, with no way to fight the ghosts inside, the bats decide to call the person who can; Danny Phantom. Together, Danny takes Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne into the Ghost Zone before the Batman is lost forever.

Word Count: 2744

A/N: Yes, I did put a Ben 10 villain in here. Sue me.

Masterlist

Chapter 4

__

"Fenton, do you have any twos?"

"Go fish."

Damian grumbled something in Arabic as he picked up a card from the pile.

"I feel like that was a bad word."

"You would be correct."

Danny turned to Stephanie. "Steph, you got any fours?" he asked. Stephanie huffed as she handed him a four of hearts, and Danny grinned victoriously as he took two fours and laid them on the ground.

Seeing as they had a two-hour trip to get to the prison, the four had set the Speeder on autopilot and decided to play a card game. Usually, the Infi-map would have their trip being two seconds, but something was wrong with it, so it was much slower than usual.

"Yo Timbers, you have any kings?" Danny asked the oldest boy. Tim smirked and shook his head.

"Go fish, Ghost Child," he replied. Tim had found it hilarious that Skulker referred to Danny as 'Ghost Child,' and had taken up calling him that as well. He turned to Damian. "You got any twos, Demon Spawn?"

If looks could kill, Tim would be six feet under. Damian threw the card at his older brother, whose eyes gleamed as he laid the twos down by his side. "Danny, you have any... sixes?"

"Yes, sir, I do," Danny chirped as he handed over the card. Tim turned back to Damian.

"You have any threes?"

"No, Drake, I do not," Damian said with a proud smile, "Suck on that." Danny and Stephanie clapped.

"You're learning slang!" they said simultaneously. Damian rolled his eyes, before looking at Stephanie.

"Brown, hand me your sevens," he ordered and smiled proudly as she gave him the cards. "Uno!" he shouted.

"Wrong game, dude," Danny said, "But good effort!"

"So, Danny," Stephanie said, "Why do you call Future-You 'Dark Danny' when you could call him something that isn't cringey like 'Dan?'

"'Dan?'" Danny echoed, "That sounds so... normal. Like can you imagine newscast being like, 'the world is ending, and soon we will all be slaves to Dan.'"

"It sounds much better than Dark Danny," Damian piped up as he took a card from Tim. "That sounds like a roller coaster ride at Six Flags."

"The gremlin's right," Tim agreed. Danny glared at them.

"I'm feeling so attacked right now, guys, and I'll have you know that my girlfriend came up with that name."

"You," Damian said derisively, "Have a girlfriend?" Tim rolled his eyes.

"Damian, yes, you knew that. Samantha Manson, you've literally met her parents at a gala one time," he paused, "Did you not pay attention at all when we were reading Danny's file?"

"I only cared about his abilities as Phantom," Damian replied as Danny exclaimed, "I have a file!?" simultaneously.

"Uh, duh," Stephanie answered, "You think we'd tell you the greatest secret ever if we didn't run a background check first?"

"So you guys know I died, then?" Danny asked nervously, scared of what they'd think. Yeah, sure they knew he was half ghost, but would they think it was weird that he was technically dead? That he wasn't technically fully human?

"Yeah," Stephanie answered as though it was obvious. Danny blinked.

"And... you don't care?"

"You believe you are the only one who has died before?" Damian rolled his eyes, "You are not as special as you think, Fenton. Get over yourself.”

Danny's jaw dropped. "Wait, you've died before?"

"Damian and I both have!" Stephanie said before Damian could reply. "We call ourselves the Dead Robins Club. Jason's in it too. Dick wants to be in it, but we won't let him because he only faked his death, he didn't actually die."

Danny's eyes lit up. "Can I join!?"

"You are not a Robin," Damian pointed out, "So no, you cannot." At Danny's frown, he sighed, and added, "But if you are going to be a child about it, perhaps we could speak to Todd and see if you could be an honorary member."

"Hey, we have like, thirty minutes left till we get there," Tim spoke up, "So let's go over the plan again."

Danny cleared his throat. "Right. So I'll be the distraction. I'll fly in there and cause a ruckus, and distract Walker so you three can get in and find Wulf."

"And because we're humans, we can just walk through things," Tim added, "And I get the collar off of Wulf, and we rescue you."

"There are so many holes in this place," Damian pointed out, "What if Wulf does not trust us? What if Drake cannot get the collar off?"

"Well, that'd suck," Danny replied, "But I trust him, don't worry. The only part that should be difficult is getting me out. Totally do-able, just difficult. But I've done it twice, so we should be fine."

"Yeah, we got this!" Stephanie cracked her knuckles with a grin. "We've succeeded on missions that had way lower odds than this," she paused, "Hey Danny, this Walker guy wants to keep order in the Ghost Zone, right? What are the chances he'd help us?"

"Like two percent," Danny answered, running a hand through his hair, "And even if he does believe us, he'd lock us up here and go after Dark Dan- I'm sorry, Dan," he rolled his eyes at his friends' pointed looks, "by himself, and he doesn't know how he works. This is our best bet."

"Don't worry, we've got this!" Tim promised, "I've broken Jason out of jail before, I'm basically an expert at this."

Thirty minutes later, they had arrived. The four jumped out of the Speeder, Danny pushing a button inside that turned it intangible before he got out. He turned to his friends. "So," he said, "You guys ready?" At their nod, they began.

Danny flew into the air, over the barbed fence. "Hey Walker!" he yelled, "Look at me! I'm a distraction!" He shot a barrage of ecto-blasts into the sky, lighting up the prison in lazarus-green flashes in a similar fashion to fireworks on the Fourth of July.

He grinned as he saw ghosts in police-like uniforms swarming out of the entrance and heading towards him. He rushed towards them, his eyes lighting up as he shot a beam of ecto-energy at the guards, blasting them aside.

A few guards lifted their blasters to their shoulders and fired. Danny did a backflip in the air, contorting his body around the shots before sending back some of his own. This continued for a while, Danny darted in and out of their ranks. He was smiling widely as he lifted both of his hands above his head, a large ball of ecto-energy crackling in them. "You ready for this!?" he shouted as he prepared to throw the massive fireball. "Yippee ki yay, moth-" he was cut off as a net was shot at him, enveloping Danny and sending him crashing to the ground. He groaned as he looked up, and wasn't the least bit surprised to see who had caught him.

A large ghost in a snow-white trench coat with a face of the same color was sneering at him. "Well well well, if it isn't Danny Phantom," Walker smirked, "Causing a ruckus outside my prison? That's against the rules."

_

"This way," Tim said quietly as he led Damian and Stephanie into the compound. Well, Tim wasn't truly the one leading. Cujo was in front of them, nose to the ground, intent on sniffing out Wulf.

Damian and Stephanie had their backs to one another, the former using the latter to guide him as he was facing the rear, watching for anything trying to sneak up on them. "The Ghost Zone reminds me of the Lazarus Pit," he muttered to himself, "And Phantom's hair is white from it, just like Todd's streak. I wonder..." he stopped talking as Stephanie came to a sudden halt.

They pressed themselves against the wall as six guards marched past, hauling a chained Danny behind them. He was glaring defiantly at Walker, seemingly mocking his stern words, showing no fear.

"I think we're good," Tim whispered as they passed, "Now let's-" he was cut off as he leaned harder against the wall and fell right through it, dragging Stephanie and Damian with him.

"Crap," Stephanie huffed, rubbing her head. "Did you forget that we're like the ghosts here? We can phase through everything here." She frowned as Cujo jumped into her lap, licking her face. He seemed to have phased through with them. "And I guess Cujo can too."

"Red Robin, if only your memory was as strong as your grip," Damian snapped, using Tim's hero name, "Then perhaps we would have found Wulf by now."

"Hey, I'm following the same dog as you," Tim retorted, "Now come on, let's go. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Cujo yapped as he turned to the right. He dashed in that direction, seemingly having picked up Wulf's scent again. The Gothamites followed him through the prison. They reached a pair of sliding doors below a sign that read 'Dangerous Prisoners' above it.

"Sounds like our guy," Stephanie said. Tim nodded in agreement as they stepped through the doors, phasing through them.

All three of them shivered, a chill running up their spine as terror possessed them. None of them voiced it to the others, but they all got the sense that they were near something that was positively evil.

Cujo, however, didn't seem to mind. Or, if he did, he didn't show it either. He pranced down the hallway, looking over his shoulder and barking at the heroes to follow him. They did so, walking slowly and looking both ways.

They were all more terrified than they had ever been in their lives.

Cujo stopped, wagging his tail with his tongue lolling, in front of a cell. He barked again as he waited for Damian, Tim, and Stephanie to catch up to him.

Wulf was massive. He appeared to be a humanoid-wolf hybrid with a green undertone and a silver collar. He snarled, his hackles rising as the three stood in front of him.

"My name is Red Robin," Tim began, "And this is Robin and Batgirl. We're friends of Danny Phantom."

"Friends of... Dan-knee?" Wulf asked gruffly, his teeth bared. Tim nodded.

"Yeah. He sent us here to break you out," Tim took a hesitant step forward, "But first I have to get that collar off of you. Can I do that?"

Wulf slowly nodded and watched Tim phase through the bars of his cell with narrowed eyes. He flinched as Tim pulled out a small device from his utility belt and set it on the collar. A holographic screen and keyboard appeared above his gauntlet. Tim typing something on the keyboard, and with a blink of the device, the collar fell off.

Wulf rose to his full height, towering over Tim. The latter stood up straight. "Danny has been captured," he said, "Will you help us free him?"

Wulf looked at him and grunted. He turned intangible and phased out of his cell with Tim close behind.

"Fantastic," Damian said with a nod, "Now, let us go find Phantom." The five began to leave but stopped dead in their tracks as a terrifying voice spoke.

"Humans!" the voice hissed.

The Bats turned around to see a terrifying ghost. It had a purple cloak with a spindly tan and black striped body and one glowing purple eye and the same collar that was on Wulf around his neck. The ghost narrowed his single eye as he spoke.

"You are freeing this oaf but not me?" the ghost snarled, "You are leaving me to rot? Me? Zs'Skayr? The High Ecto-Lord of Anur Transyl?"

Wulf snarled as the others were frozen in fear. Something was wrong about this Zs'Skayr. Batgirl, Robin, and Red Robin were heroes. They'd fought with the Justice Leauge. They'd gone toe to toe with Joker.

But Zs'Skayr?

They couldn't explain it, but this being was absolutely horrifying.

"Who are you?" Damian was the first to speak up, shaking like a scared dog being brought outside for the first time. Zs'Skayr's eye flashed.

"I am Zs'Skayr!" he roared, "The most terrifying being in the universe! Arch enemy to the Omnitrix!" he met Damian's eyes. "I am the one who can break you free. I can save your friend and destroy this cursed prison."

"We can't let you that," Tim croaked, "Absolutely not."

Zs'Skayr's eye did not leave Damian's. He cocked his head. "There is a darkness in you, child," he hissed, "One you are trying to overcome. Do not fight it! I can give you all the power you could ever desire!"

Damian gulped, clenching his fists and staring Zs'Skayr right back. "I do not need your power," he said stiffly, "And I do not need your help."

"Let us go," Wulf interrupted, putting a paw on Damian's shoulder. "Need help Danny."

Damian nodded, and with another glance at the Hellish being, they left.

_

Danny closed his eyes in pain at Walker's punch, but refused to fall. He looked up with a gleam in his eyes.

"That's really the best you got?" Danny scoffed, "You're losing your touch! You've known me for two years and that's all you can do?"

"Just tell me why you're here, kid," Walker replied. Danny groaned.

"I already did!"

"You think I'm stupid enough to believe some lie about time travel?"

"I mean, yeah, I think you're pretty stupid," Danny replied, "But I'm not lying!"

"Sure you aren't, kid."

Danny gave the ghost a blank stare. "You know, Walker, you seem to have trust issues. That sometimes stems from trauma. Do you want to talk about it?"

Walker narrowed his eyes before punching Danny in the face. The boy turned back to him and laughed.

"I've fought Pariah Dark, Fright Knight, and you multiple times and you think a measly punch is gonna shut me up?"

He was stalling. Danny just had to keep it up until his friends could get the cuffs off of him, and he could freeze Walker.

Speaking of freezing, Danny froze as he slowly shut his eyes and sighed, "I've gotta say, though, you might not be the only one who can be stupid," In a ring of light, Danny transformed back into a human, and phased out of the cuffs with ease.

"Ha!" he yelled, "In your face!" He shifted back into his ghost form and grinned as his hands lit up in blue light. "You know, I hate to just run out on you like this, but I gotta go." With a flash of light, Danny thrust his hands in front of him, and a bolt of ice shot from his palms. Walker screamed as his body was encased in ice.

Danny shook his head as he floated to the ground. "Now, where oh where are my friends?"

"Right here, my guy!" At the sound of Stephanie's voice, Danny turned around to see his friends, with Wulf close behind. Danny's face lit up.

"Wulf!" he shouted with glee, "I've missed you, buddy!"

"Miss you too," Wulf replied.

"Let's get out of here," Tim said, "Before they realize you and Wulf have escaped."

A red flashing light lit up above them. Damian sucked in his teeth. "Too late."

Danny waved his hand. "Come on, let's go!" With that, the group dashed forward, phasing through the wall.

They skidded to a halt as they were faced with ten guards. They swung their batons. "Freeze!" one of them yelled.

Danny shrugged. "If you say so," he blasted them with a wave of ice, freezing the guards. Tim grinned.

"Nice one, Phantom," he praised as they continued forward, tucking a rolling above the frozen ghosts with ease.

They phased through another wall, Wulf leading them forward. Two guards appeared in front of them, but Wulf swatted them aside with ease. Phasing through another wall, they were outside.

They were almost to the Speeder. Danny looked behind him and saw an army of guards swarming out of the doors of the prison. Danny skidded to a halt in the air and turned around. He blasted the group with ice, freezing half of them. The other half, though, they kept coming.

Danny turned back around, phasing into the Speeder where the others were already seated. "Come on, Tim, let's go!" he urged, looking outside the window as he spoke. Tim pushed a button on the control panel, and the vessel rose into the air and, with sonic boom behind them, shot into the air and away from the prison.

#Ghosts in Gotham #Batfamily #Damian Wayne #robin #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #batgirl #spoiler #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfamily headcanons #batfamily fanfic #danny phantom #danny fenton #phandom #phanfic #phanfiction #danny phantom crossover #batfamily crossover #danny phantom justice league #danny phantom dc comics #danny phantom headcanons #danny phantom batfamily #phics #batman #bruce wayne

[mobius-prime]

257. Sonic the Hedgehog #188

Beating the House

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Matt Herms Colors: Josh Ray

Sonic finds himself coming to in the back of the Destructix's van, trying to remember how he got here. When he remembers his final moments before he was knocked out he realizes that Sally must be stranded alone with Nack right now and tries to break free of his shackles, but they refuse to give, and Sgt. Simian encourages him to simply sit back and enjoy the ride as he's not about to get free. Meanwhile, Sally runs for her life as Nack counts down from ten, determined to get to Freedom HQ before he can fire at her.

Man, it's so weird how much the entrance to the Great Oak Slide has changed over the years of the comic, isn't it? Its appearance, its location, even the part of Knothole it leads into have all been different depending on the comic's era and whatever the current plot needs. Anyway, Sally slides into the base to find Amy awaiting her, and Amy, after learning of the situation, explains that everyone else is back at New Mobotropolis. Without anyone else to back them up, they team up to fight Nack together.

Poor, poor Nack. He just can't win, can he? After Amy knocks him through the remains of the front door and into next Tuesday, she and Sally race to the comms room and contact Nicole, explaining what's going on. They ask her to call the rest of the available Freedom Fighters over to re-arrest Nack, while the two of them go after the Destructix's van to rescue Sonic. The hedgehog in question has by now been transported to the Casino Night club, where he's being guarded in a back room and more irritated than anything at the badniks constantly poking fun at him for getting captured.

Well, that's certainly an interesting comment. Remember, the very first time we saw these guys was all the way back in StH#2, and yet here, he implies that he was only eight years old when that encounter happened. We do know that the stories in the second era and onward took place when Sonic was fourteen and older, and I've gone over my theory before that the stories in the first era were mostly that - stories - and didn't happen exactly as we were told, being much less goofy and much more serious and life-threatening than portrayed. But this adds a new detail on top of all of that - some of those earliest stories definitely happened when Sonic was barely more than a kid. In fact, I'm sure the events that most of those early stories were based on began shortly after he and the others initially formed the Freedom Fighters to begin with, as that indeed happened when they were young children, right after the Original Freedom Fighters were killed. Just another interesting little tidbit that adds more depth to those old slapstick issues that we've almost forgotten about by now.

Anyway, Drago insists he wants his money for bringing back Sonic, and Coconuts tells him he'll have to wait as Mogul is still busy with casino business currently. Sleuth irritably warns Coconuts not to be so blasé about having Sonic as their prisoner, due to Sonic's reputation for breaking out of confinement and his friends' reputations for arriving on the scene far too quickly for comfort. Meanwhile, Sally and Amy enter the establishment, quickly running into Geoffrey, whom they learn is working as an informant here.

Due to their snooping, Geoffrey and Rouge have a good idea of where he's being held, so the four of them break into the back room, though Rouge declines to participate in the fight due to not wanting to ruin her dress. Geoffrey sets Sonic free of his shackles with a few well-placed crossbow shots, and he happily joins them in trashing the place and knocking around his former captors. While the fight is going on, Rouge pulls Drago aside and reveals the real reason why she ducked out of the fight, telling him that she's actually not technically on either side - Mogul has paid her to pass on some information to him, and after that, she's out. As she passes on this mysterious message, Sonic and his friends clean up the rest of the trash, and then head out to the main room, shouting for Mogul to come and face them. Mogul appears, but he seems angry to see Sonic at all, "reminding" him that he'd told him before their business was concluded. He pretends not to know what they're talking about when they claim he arranged for Sonic's kidnapping, and calls on Sleuth to explain why he had Sonic held up in the back room.

Mogul orders the heroes to leave his casino, and they angrily do, knowing they've been had. Drago doesn't know what the hell Sleuth was even "confessing" to in the first place seeing as they were hired by Mogul in the first place, but Sleuth explains that it was part of Mogul's plan all along, that the entire thing was a setup merely to humiliate Sonic. I suppose this is what he was referring to with the whole "I can't beat you but you'll never rest easily again" thing, huh? Not a bad plan, all things considered, especially if the Freedom Fighters winning was factored into the equation from the start. However, as Sonic and the others travel back to New Mobotropolis, Sonic seems mostly unperturbed, merely congratulating the others on being the ones to rescue him for once. Bunnie contacts Sally, and informs her that while Freedom HQ has been secured, Nack was gone by the time they got there, meaning he's once again escaped their custody. Everyone tries to look on the bright side, that at the very least things can't get any worse today…

Now what the heck is going on here? The Freedom Fighters of the reverse zone are hard at work on some kind of project, and Fiona seems to have gotten herself a nice high ranking within them very quickly, which irritates Anti-Sally to no end. Fiona reports back on the progress to Scourge… calling him "Your Majesty" as he sits atop a throne, wearing some kind of crown. Oh, boy, what the hell have we gotten ourselves into now…

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 188 #writer: ian flynn #pencils: matt herms #colors: joshua d ray

[avengerscompound]

Legacy - Chapter 7

Legacy: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1929

Rating:  E

Square filled:   @clintbartonbingo - Nightmares

Warnings:  Pregnancy, domestic abuse, post-endgame, angst, developing-relationship, hurt/comfort, smut, Laura and Clint have broken up.  Comic Clint/MCU Clint mix.

Synopsis: Nothing is the same after the events of Endgame.  When Clint has trouble returning to a life where his family hasn’t changed but he has lost everything, he moves back to the city and tries to move on as a single parent. When Nate finds you bruised and pregnant in the stairwell of his building, he decides that there might be another way that he can make Nat’s sacrifice worth something.

Chapter 7

As your pregnancy progressed so did your relationship with Clint.  There was this lingering feeling that maybe you were moving too fast.  Maybe the two of you carried too much pain and the fact that when you were together things felt easier was making those feelings of love you had for him too intense and you were worried that they might not actually be real.  You worried that you hadn’t given yourself enough time on your own to let yourself make your own way and figure yourself out.  You’d just jumped out of an abusive relationship into the arms of the first person who treated you kindly.

The thing was, you did actually love him.  Part of that love was how he made you feel.  How he protected you and made you feel safe.  How he made you laugh.  How much he’d done for you.  It wasn’t just that though.  You loved all those other things about him.  How vulnerable he let himself be with you.  How good of a dad he was to his kids.  How he still had a good relationship with his ex.  How much of a dork he was.

The simple fact was, that being around him was better than not being around him.  So things did move quickly.  You went from neighbors to basically living together within six months.  So as the due date for your baby rapidly approached you began to wonder if the nursery you were preparing in your own apartment was even worth it if you spent all your time at Clint’s.

You were a little reluctant to bring it up though.  Things were going fast and if he wasn’t ready to ask, then you didn’t want to push it.

The problem was that with all the pregnancy hormones and stress and anxiety you’d have over the past relationship ending, making it on your own, new job, new relationship, baby things, the vivid stress dreams were now starting to get to you.

“No!”  You shouted, snapping awake.  Sweat clung to your skin and your heart was hammering as you found it hard to pull in air.  Clint reacted quickly, grabbing his hearing aids and rubbing your back.  “Shh… it’s okay.  You’re safe.”  He soothed as he put his aids in.

You rubbed your chest and as Clint wrapped his arms around you, you leaned into him.  You still felt tense and anxious even as he held you.

“What was it this time?”  He asked.

“I had the baby and I was in my own place.  I was asleep…”

“You were asleep in your dream?”  Clint asked.

“Yeah.  I must have been because she woke me crying.  I was alone and I went to the room and Richard was there.  He took her.  He said I wasn’t a fit mother and that she was his now.  And I tried to get her off of him but he hit me.  He knocked me down and walked off and then when I chased after him there was nothing outside the door.  It was just a void.  I was alone in my apartment and nothing else existed.”

“Oh, babe,”  Clint soothed.  “He’s never getting his hands on you or your baby.  I promise.”

“What if he gets out?  It’s his baby.”  You said.

Clint held you rubbing your back.  “Doesn’t matter.  It’s not his kid.  It’s mine.  Remember?”

You were about to argue with him when the bedroom door opened.  “Daddy?”

Nate’s tiny little voice sounded so frightened and concerned, you began to feel guilt on top of the anxiety and fear you’d already been carrying.

“Everything’s fine, bud,”   Clint reassured him.

Nate looked at you and tiptoed toward the bed.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie.  I had a bad dream.  Thank you for coming and checking on me.”  You said.

Nate climbed up into the bed with you both and cuddled up to you wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his cheek on your shoulder.  He patted your shoulder, his little hands tapping out a pattern on your skin.  “It’s okay.  You don’t need to be scared.”  He said softly.

You hugged the little boy back and felt yourself relax a little more.  “Thank you, Nate.  You’re very sweet.”

“We’ll look after you.”  He said softly.

You smiled and kissed the top of his head, looking at Clint in the low light.

“Hey, buddy.  You think you want to go back to sleep?”  Clint asked.

Nate seemed to think seriously on the issue.  “Umm… no.  I’m okay.”

Clint started laughing and picked up his phone.  “It’s 6.  What do you think?”

You shrugged.  “I mean, I’d like more sleep but I can do 6.  I nap in the afternoon these days anyway.”

Clint chuckled.  “Alright.  You hear that, bud.  We can go make pancakes and watch some cartoons.”

Nate jumped out of bed and ran out into the living room.  Clint gave you a kiss on the top of the head.  “I am gonna need a whole pot of coffee.”

You laughed and poked him.  “How is that different from any other day of the week?”

The two of you slowly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way out to the kitchen.  Nate was pulling bowls and pans out of the cupboards he could reach and carefully putting them up on the bench.  “Your son is very sweet you know?”  You said as you watched him.

Clint smiled and went to the pantry and pulled out the flour, sugar and baking soda.  “I know, he’s related to me.”

You laughed and went to the fridge.  “That must be it.”

Clint lifted Nate off the ground and put him on the kitchen counter.  “Alright, kiddo.  Let’s make some pancakes.”

You went and put on the coffee and then watched as Clint helped Nate carefully measure out the ingredients into a bowl.  “You know what’s a little weird.  Tony and Pepper had a kid like four years after this guy was born, but because of the blip she’s actually the same age as him.”

“That is strange.”  You said going to heat up a pan.  “We should ask Pepper out for a playdate.”

Clint gave a half smile.  “Yeah… that’s a good idea.  I think … yeah, they should be friends.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek.  There were things he wasn't saying.  Feeling he wasn't quite ready to express.  Tony Stark’s daughter was going to grow up without a father because he gave his life doing the thing that brought his children back.  He was going to get to see his kids grow up.  He could have more kids if he wanted.  Tony, even after all he sacrificed, would not.

Clint offered you a small smile, and had you not had a pan heating up on the griddle and a five-year-old sitting on the kitchen bench, you would have pulled him in your arms and kissed him and told him that he didn’t have to keep carrying these burdens with him anymore.  That his friends had wanted him to live a good life, not just feel guilty that it wasn’t him.  Instead, you rubbed his back and let your hand slide down, pinching his ass before taking it away.

The small smile turned into a soft laugh and a shake of the head and he grabbed a ladle and scooped a blob of pancake mixture into the pan.

“So I was thinking,”  Clint said.

“Don’t strain yourself.”  You teased.

“Ha-ha.  Very funny.  I’m the dad here, you leave the dad jokes to me.”  Clint teased.  Nate started giggling and Clint ruffled his hair.  “Anyway… what was I saying?  Oh yeah, I was thinking if we took this wall down, we could extend the kitchen out.  Have a floating bench in the middle.  Be better than this dinky little kitchen I’m always banging my head in.  And then the living room in that apartment could be a dining area and we’d have five bedrooms. Which means the kids could all have their own room and poor Coop wouldn’t have to share with this little terror.”

You stared at Clint, open-mouthed, holding the flip in your hand.

“Daddy.  The pancake.”  Nate said.  Clint reached forward and guided your hand, using it to turn the pancake over using the flip.

When you finally seemed to come unstuck and started processing what he’d just suggested you turned to him.  “What … what… what…?  Why would you do that?”

Clint let out a huff and shook his head a little like he was a little annoyed.  You wondered if maybe he’d been trying to avoid a conversation that you’d just forced him into.  He took the flip from you and took the pancake off the pan and put it on a purple plastic plate.  He put Nate on the ground and put syrup on the pancake before handing the plate to the little boy.  “Okay, bud.  Go watch cartoons.”  He said grabbing a fork for him.

You watched Nate carry his plate to the couch and turn on the tv.  Clint moved you to the side and took over cooking.  “I want you to move in with me.”  He said.

“Is this about the nightmare?”  You asked.

“Yes.  No.  I mean…”  He shook his head.  “You’re obviously worried about being alone, but I’ve been thinking of asking you for a little while.  I know it’s fast.  I do.  But I want it.  You basically already live with me.  I hate the idea of you going back over there alone when the baby’s born.”

“Clint, you don’t owe me…”

“I know.  I know I don’t.  I love you.  I want us to live together.  Will you move in with me?”  He asked, turning to you.

“It’s really soon, Clint.”  You said.

“I know.”

“We could get really hurt.”

He put his hands on your arms.  “I know that too.  I think it’s worth the risk.  If you don’t, I get it.”

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Okay.  Let’s do it.”

He smiled and leaned in and kissed you.  You melted into it, letting him take the lead.  He pulled back slowly and leaned his forehead against yours.  For a moment the two of you just looked at each other and he pulled back and went back to cooking.  “So what do you think?”

“Five bedrooms is so much for New York.”  You said.

He shrugged.  “I technically own the whole building.”   He said.

“That’s true.  I guess it would be good for Cooper to have his own space.  And I like the idea of a dining area.”  You said.

“Plus two bathrooms.”  He said.

“Oh god, yes.  We definitely need two bathrooms.”  You agreed.

“Alright.  We should get a start on it.  Won’t be long before this little girl joins us and we run out of time.”  He said putting his hand on your stomach.

You looked down at his hand and put yours on top of it.  “Did you mean it about her being yours?”

He nodded.  “Yeah.  She’s mine.  He’s not going to have any claim to her at all.  Okay?”

Tears pricked your eyes and you tucked yourself into his side and nuzzled his neck.  “I love you so much, Clint.”

He kissed the top of your head.  “I love you too.  And I’d love you even more if you’d go pour me out some of that coffee.”

You chuckled and went and grabbed him a mug, letting yourself relax and just be excited for things to come.

// NEXT

#clintbartonbingo2019 #clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #legacy

[detectivejigsawpines]

A Pinesmas Carol-part 7 (Decking in the halls)

*If you want, you can imagine the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's version of "Carol of the Bells" playing during parts of this. It feels kind of appropriate.

Clink.

It was a tiny sound, barely audible in the stillness of the night; just a small, muffled noise that was barely recognizable as glass breaking.

But it had Stan opening his eyes almost immediately... and sliding the brass knuckles he’d kept under his pillow onto one hand, while opening his knife with the other.

Slowly he slid out from under the covers, straining his ears as he got to his feet.  Was there a creak of hinges that came after, or was he just imagining it because of how wound up he was?

Sounds like that came from the back door.  Do I go there to investigate, or stay here and make sure nobody ambushes my family while they’re sleeping?

If it had been just him, then it would have been easier, he wouldn’t have needed to worry about having to protect-

Wait a minute.  Where’s Ford?!

The makeshift bed contained a distinct absence of long-limbed nerd (unless you counted Shermie, but he didn’t fit the description well enough as far as Stan was concerned).

Horrifying possibilities flitted into his head: Archer or one of his goons could’ve already broken in and seen Ford first, and thought he was Stan so they grabbed him and somehow took him without waking anyone else up; he could have gotten up to investigate on his own and got captured, and maybe even now they were-

Chill out!  You literally cannot afford to panic right now if you want your family to get out of this alive.

Then, to his relief, Shermie was awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“What is it?” he whispered, looking up at Stan.

“I think I heard something,” Stan whispered back.  Then, decision made, he handed him the switchblade.  “Just in case anyone tries comin’ through the front.”

And before Shermie could answer he crept into the hallway.

****

Stan moved into the kitchen, glad that the windows were letting in a few squares of light so he could see that...the room was empty.

On the one hand, if there were intruders, they hadn’t come in here: good.

On the other hand, there was still a significant absence of Ford: bad.

Maybe he’s upstairs.

Was it worth checking?  Shermie was awake and armed now, and if they’d decided to go upstairs and found his twin-not that Ford couldn’t handle himself if push came to shove, but old instincts died hard-

A dark form was suddenly looming in the kitchen doorway, and lunging towards him; something long and metallic-looking flashed in its hand.

Stan didn’t think twice before snatching one of the chairs away from the table and bringing it down on the figure’s head.

So much for tryna be stealthy.

...Oh crap, I really hope that wasn’t Ford.

But to his relief, when he pulled the now prone figure into one of the pools of light, he saw that it was a totally different man: bulkier than Ford or Shermie, wearing a thick black turtleneck.  With a large wrench in his hand, just the right size for smashing onto someone’s head.

Stan glared, and snatched it up.

Finders keepers, loser.

And then, just as he was straightening up again, he felt something cold and metal press into the side of his skull.

****

It was only made worse by the fact that this new guy-another of Archer’s thugs, Stan was guessing-didn’t start monologuing like any self-respecting comic book villain would have done when they had someone at gunpoint, or even say something along the lines of “Archer’s been looking for you for a long time, Pinowski.”  He just stood there quietly and waited for Stan to straighten and turn to face him.

Once that was done he moved his hand, gesturing towards the hallway.

Of course.  Archer doesn’t want me dead just yet.  He’s probably either gonna try ta take me somewhere else now and finish the job like he tried to last time...or he wants ta threaten my family first, make me beg for their lives before he kills them anyway.

...Screw that.

Stan, in a move that would have had police officers (and his mother) tearing their hair out and lecturing him for a good half-hour on his recklessness, suddenly jerked to the side and grabbed the goon’s wrist, pushing it down and twisting the gun.  Something in the other man’s trigger finger cracked, and he screamed as Stan yanked the gun out of his hand, before landing a blow to his jaw that collapsed him right next to his buddy.

Once he was sure he was out for the count, Stan stepped out into the hallway, his new gun drawn-

And there was Archer.

He had a few new scars along his nose and forehead, and his hair had grown out a little; other than that he hadn’t changed much.

There was yet another generic thug standing behind him, also with a gun in hand.

Sheesh, you’d think I was the first guy ever ta stop him from selling kids.  Unless he gives this kinda treatment ta everyone who p_sses him off.

For a moment they just stood there, staring at each other...before Stan smiled crookedly and waved with his free hand.

“How’s it hangin’?”

Archer’s own smile was pretty thin and mirthless.  “I was sure you were here.”

Stan aimed at the jerk’s chest.  “Well, you found me. And now you’re gonna leave.”

Archer raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “I don’t think so.”

The generic thug lifted his gun, pointing it...over Stan’s shoulder.

He glanced behind him (even though he knew how dangerous it was to take his eyes off his target), and let out a small curse of frustration.  Because there was Shermie, standing behind him in plain sight like an idiot when he should have been hiding in the living room where he’d be safe with his family for a little longer, why had he thought this was a good idea-

He was probably coming to see if you needed help, a voice in Stan’s head whispered, and he groaned, lowering the gun in defeat and then dropping it to the ground.

Archer nodded his approval.  “Good boy. Now come here.”

Stan only had time to take one step forward-before a voice sounded from the top of the stairs.

“Don’t touch him.”

****

As you might have guessed, it was Ford.  Standing there, with a lit candle (where did he even get that?) placed on the banister next to him, a small bell in one hand, and his journal open in the other.

“What the [ CENSORED ]-” Archer began to say.

Ford just talked over him.  Or, more specifically, he began to chant, while ringing the bell.

“Mutare, mutare,

Lusus naturae,

Facti quod tu es,

Facti quod tu es,

FACTI QUOD TU ES!”

Then he slammed the journal shut, and some incredibly crazy crap happened.

****

Specifically, Archer and the thug, and, judging by the flash in the kitchen, the two other jerks, were all suddenly surrounded by an angry-looking red light.  It enveloped them entirely, and then...they began to disappear.

Or maybe shrink, since their clothes were still in place, and they just seemed to be disappearing into them, kind of like the Wicked Witch of the West.

There was some screaming, but it didn’t last very long.  Until finally, all that was left were two lumpy piles of clothes.

Ford slowly descended the stairs, carrying the candle now, and looked over at Stan.

“You all right?”

Stan nodded slowly, eyes feeling a little wide.  “Um, Poindexter...what did you just do?”

“Let’s see.”

And on that cryptic note he went over to the pile of clothes that used to be Archer, and began digging through it-until at last he lifted out...a baby.

A somewhat chubby, disoriented-looking baby, not exactly newborn but probably not more than a few weeks old, who on being exposed to the air began to kick and scream.

“...You turned them into babies?” Stan asked over the noise, staring in disbelief at what he was realizing had to be Archer regressed into an infant or whatever the term was.

“Not precisely.  The spell was to turn them into whatever they are at their basic essence.  I suppose this can be interpreted as saying that at heart, Archer-” Ford’s lip curled at the name- “was a spoiled child used to getting whatever he wanted, perhaps.”  He finally registered that he was holding a naked infant in his arms, and set him down in the pile of clothes, blushing.

Curious, Stan went to the other pile of clothes-which had begun moving on its own, and shaking, until a dark-furred puppy stuck its head out.  It looked up at him and whined.

Stan gave Ford a disbelieving stare; he looked equally nonplussed, but finally said, “A loyal dog, I guess?”

Stan snorted...but decided not to argue the point.  He guessed it made a kind of sense, at least to magic.

“Wonder what the other two mooks were.”  Stan gestured to the kitchen.

Ford peered in-and a second later pulled his head back out in a disgusted grimace.

“...They turned into a weasel and a rat, respectively.”

“That makes sense.”  Stan was disconcerted to realize that the puppy had wandered over to him and was now attempting to climb into his lap.  He made a few futile attempts to shove it off, until he admitted defeat and started petting it, deciding not to think too much about the fact that a few minutes ago this had been a person who was attempting to shoot his brother.

“And weasels are known to be occasional predators of rats.”

“Oh, eugh.”  Stan made a face similar to his twin’s as he realized what he was saying.  “How bad’s the mess?”

“The weasel’s about halfway finished with his meal.”  There was a chewing, tearing sound from inside. Stan decided he was happier not seeing it.

Then he half-turned, still with the puppy in his lap...and saw the expressions on the faces of Shermie and Rebecca and Xander, who were all standing in the living room doorway and gaping at them.

Stan gulped.

“...Um...I guess we should probably explain.”

********

...Okay, technically most of the decking took place in the kitchen. But it was close enough, okay?

This explanation should be fun for everyone.

#flipside au #stan pines #ford pines #shermie pines #pines brothers fighting #not with each other this time #ford is awesome #stan is awesome #saving the day

[lovlieziam]

Can I ask for Ziam + #46 :D

You most certainly may :)

46. What is this? 20 questions?

Liam was curious by nature. Growing up, he was always askinganybody he came into contact with questions. He knew it could be annoying, buthis parents always humored him and his mother was especially fond of hiscurious nature. His teachers weren’t always so receptive to his multitude ofquestions, but it’s not like they could tellLiam that. They were teachers, after all, and answering his questions was theirjob. Still, Liam could always tell when his countless questions started gratingon people’s nerves. So he stopped asking so many. It was tragic, really. Hestill had so many questions. He wasbrimming with curiosity and no outlet.

Which is why he was so thankful the day he met Zayn. Asidefrom his mother, no one had ever had the patience to deal with all of Liam’squestions. But Zayn? Zayn was a saint. If he was being honest, the thing he wasmost thankful for from One Direction was Zayn. When the band first formed, hewas too excited to tamper all of his questions. He was quickly brought backdown to earth after he noticed the annoyance radiating from the other threeboys, but Zayn had only smiled encouragingly at Liam and that had been it. He’sbeen a fountain of questions thrown as Zayn ever since.

That’s why he’s so confusednow. He can see Zayn is starting to lose his patience with Liam’s questions,but he can’t understand why. He’salways been so receptive before, but now he’s tense on the couch next to Liamand his face is growing more and more closed off. Liam really should take thehint, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this.

“But who is it, Zayn?At least give me some hints. You haven’t given me anything so far. How did youmeet them? When did you know you liked them? Do you guys have anything incommon?”

“Liam,” Zayn said, his voice more gruff than Liamremembered.

“Oooh, do they like comic books? If they do, which ones aretheir favorite? Are they famous? Do I know them?”

“Liam, geeze. What is this? 20 questions?”

Liam lit up at that, an idea already forming in his head.“Zayn! That’s a great idea! Let’s do 20 questions, and if I can’t guess after20 I’ll drop it. You won’t have to tell me who you have a crush on.”

Liam watched as the gears started turning in Zayn’s head. Hewas obviously torn between not wanting to answer the questions and wanting thequestions to just be over with. Liam new he was victorious when he watched hisshoulders drop down.

“Fine,” Zayn agreed. Liam squealed, bouncing rapidly on thecouch before settling back down next to Zayn. A reluctant smile spread acrossZayn’s lips at Liam’s reaction. “But only yes or no questions. That’s how thegame works.”

“Okay, first question. Is it a girl?”

Zayn quickly adverted his eyes, looking down at his hands inhis lap. Zayn’s bisexuality was something he had just recently confessed toLiam, and he knew Zayn was still suspicious of people’s reactions.

“Um, no,” he mumbled out.

“Do I know them?”

“Geeze, Liam, you really don’t mess around, do you?” Liamonly grinned in response, waiting for Zayn’s answer.

“Yes.” Liam’s grin grew. That made it so much easier.

“Okay, okay. Do you have common interests with them? Like,obvious common interests?”

“Yes.”

“So do they likecomic books?”

Zayn rolled his eyes before, “Yes.”

“Are they famous?” Zayn nodded.

“Are they a singer?” Another nod.

“Are you friends with them?” Again, Zayn rolled his eyes.

“Obviously. Don’t reckon I’d have a crush on someone Ididn’t know all that well.”

Liam let the jibe slide, to busy thinking of other questionsto ask Zayn.

“Okay, okay. Are they friends with the band? Like all of us?Do all of us like him?”

Zayn gave Liam a little smile. “That was technically threequestions. What does that put you up to now, 10?”

Liam giggled. “Shut up, that doesn’t count! It wasclarification of the original question. You can’t cheat, Zayn!”

Zayn heaved out a sigh, shifting to face Liam more fully.

“Yes, he’s friends with you lot.”

“Is it someone we see a lot?”

“Honestly? Probably too much.” It was an offhand comment,mostly meant to be sarcastic, but it made a sudden thought pop into Liam’shead. The five of them always joked around about how they spent too much timewith each other, so did that mean Zayn had a crush on one of them? The thoughtof Zayn having a crush on one of the boys made a heavy weight settle in Liam’sstomach. He didn’t want Zayn to have a crush on them, he wanted Zayn to have acrush on him. At least if it wassomeone outside of the band at least Liam could avoid them and pretend likethey didn’t exist.

“Is it…someone in the band?” As soon as the question left Liam’smouth, Zayn’s entire body went rigid. He looked at Liam with wide eyes, andLiam was almost entirely convinced Zayn was about to run for the door. Helooked terrified, and Liam thoughtabout taking the question back for a moment. He couldn’t, though. The answerwas too important to him. If Zayn said yes, he had a one in four chance ofbeing the receiver of Zayn’s affection and that was all he wanted.

“It, um…” Zayn began. He still looked so scared and Liam hadto push down the urge to wrap him in his arms. “Yes,” he finally whispered, hisgaze focused on his lap and refusing to meet Liam’s eye.

Liam felt his heart speed up in his chest. Zayn’s reactionmeant one of two things: either he had a crush on one of the boys and he wasashamed of it or he had a crush on Liamand didn’t want Liam to find out. Liam was pretty sure it was the latter. God,Liam really hoped it was the latter.

He inched closer to Zayn, drawing the other man’s attentioneven though he still refused to meet Liam’s eyes. “Is it Niall? I wouldn’tblame you, he does have a really infectious laugh.”

Zayn let out a soft snort, a tiny bit of tension leaking outof his shoulders.

“No,” Liam said, closing the distance a little more. “I betit’s Harry! Something about that George of the Jungle vibe that really does itfor people.” Liam watched as the corner Zayn’s mouth lifted. Again, Liam didn’twait for a response before he continued. “Mmm, no. It’s definitely gotta beLouis. Sure, some people claim he’s got a bad attitude, but that ass? To diefor.”

Liam erased the last bit of distance from them, all butsitting in Zayn’s lap. When Zayn looked up, his eyes were still filled withthat unmistakable fear, but there was also a glimmer of hope hidden among itthis time. “Or is it me? The lad who’s been half in love with you since themoment you smiled at him in that shitty McDonalds?”

Zayn’s eyes widened, shock spreading rapidly across hisfeatures as a blush rose in his cheeks. “W-what?”

“Please say it’s me, Zayn.” Zayn stared at Liam for a coupleseconds longer before rushing out a quick yesand surging forward to meet Liam’s lips with his own.

#i'm so sorry this took so long? #school is killing me #but here you go hope you enjoy :) #ziam #my writing #drabble #claudiia--styles #ask prompt

[seashellrosekitty]

The Last Dance | Chapter Four

AO3

Chapter Three - The Deal

Chapter Title: The Wedding

Author’s Note: Here’s my entry to @spxderbarnes Em’s 21st Birthday Writing Challenge last year! Sorry it took me longer to update this time. :)

Plot: 1940s post-war era. Steve and Bucky are brothers and are teenagers, and they never served in the army because they were too young to join during the war. You find out you’re pregnant with Steve’s baby. Both Steve’s and your parents arrange for you and Steve to get married, but Steve declines. Ultimately, his father offers his other son, James (later known as Bucky), to marry you in Steve’s place.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (eventually)

Warnings: 18+ Content! Teenage pregnancy, arranged marriage, religious theme, sexist theme, fluff, smut (of course), angst, Steve being a cold jerk, characters coming from the comics (i.e. Bucky’s family), MCU characters appearing in this era (i.e. Bruce is your younger brother and some others who will appear in the next chapters).

The wedding was arranged. You had expressed to your mother that you wanted a civil wedding. She sternly disagreed and said, “You will only get married in front of the eyes of the Lord, Y/N. This is the last time you will ask me of this.” You simply wanted to get through it without the unnecessary number of eyes that would witness all this. A disgrace wedding.

Your dress was prepared neatly in your room as your mom helped you fix your hair. You put your simple makeup on. A foundation, eyeliner, blush on, and matte red lipstick.

While most brides look at themselves in the mirror hours and minutes before the ceremony, you were staring outside the window of your room. You asked your mother and the whole entourage to leave except for your best friend, Wanda. The redhead closed the door of your room quietly. “Are you okay?” You sighed deeply at her question, barely blinking.

“What have I gotten myself into, Wanda? I’m eighteen and getting married. And the man I love is not the one waiting for me at the altar.”

Wanda walked to your side and looked at you with searching eyes. “Just so you know, I wish I were a witch so I could put Steve under a punishing spell for hurting you this way. You know I don’t care about this church stuff.” You looked at her. “But I care that you love Steve. This baby was conceived out of love. Maybe not much from him as we know now, but from you. Don’t ever regret this, Y/N.” You sighed again. You found it ridiculous that it’s so easy to get married but so difficult to get divorced.

“Besides,” she added. “Your groom isn’t so bad.”

Two weeks ago

When you told your father that you would be married to James, he objected. He was concerned about James’ smarts and abilities. He even talked about setting you up with the son of a friend of his, Clint Barton. Your father even went to the point of guilt-tripping you into agreeing to meet him. It took every ounce of patience from you to go without making it difficult for your parents.

Clinton Barton was the youngest son of a rich couple, Harold and Edith Barton. Clint was quite known among kids his age for his outstanding skills in archery. You knew of him yourself but never once met him because he studied in a private school.

You were pacing back and forth in your room, trying to contemplate on meeting Clint Barton. And on what you must say to James. James. You realized you’ve already made a deal and you weren’t even able to argue well enough with your father to convince him that James would be a fine husband. You decided to give him a call. You’ve had a deal anyway. Technically speaking, you were already engaged to him, after all.

After two rings, James’s mother answered the phone. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes? Is James home? It’s me, Y/N.” “Oh, hi, sweetie. Hold on, he’s in his room.” It took almost a minute and on the other end of the line, you heard heavy footsteps coming downstairs in a rush.

“Hey. Y/N?” James greeted. His voice somehow sounded different on the phone than in person. It was huskier, a little deeper. “James? Hi.” “Something wrong? Did the ring fit?” “I haven’t tried it on yet. Could you come over? I need to talk to you about something.” “Sure, doll. I’ll be right down.”

In twenty minutes, James arrived in the same cream Cadillac car you rode on the day you went for some milkshake. You were already seated on the porch and stood up when he walked towards you. He smiled at you with a slightly worried expression.

“Hey. Everything all right? You sounded worried.” You asked him to sit with you on the porch and he did so and sat beside you. You were holding the ring box he gave you with both your hands, almost hiding it. Then you began.

“My father wants me to meet this guy...Clint Barton. He’s the son of-” “I know who he is.” He cut you off, making you look directly at him. His face dropped a little at the thought. “Your father wants you to marry Barton?” “Well, yeah, I guess,” you shrugged as you played with the ring box. “I’m still supposed to meet him tomorrow morning.” “You sound like you don’t wanna do it,” he remarked, making you shoot a glance at him. You realized he was right. “I don’t. I can’t believe someone else besides our families know about me. About this. And here I am looking like some lost puppy who needs an owner or something.” James huffed at your statement.

“You better stop thinking that way about yourself, doll,” he said and grabbed the ring box from you. He took out the ring from the box and offered his hand to you. “Gimme your left hand, would ya?” Without saying anything, you slowly brought your left hand to his, the smooth fingers of your skin sliding on his rough ones. It felt a bit strange being held by someone who’s not Steve. But it was okay. He gently held on to your fingers and slowly slid the ring on your finger. It fit you perfectly. The corner of his mouth raised to form a small smile.

“I told you you’ll look prettier in it.” It took you a moment before uttering, “Thank you, James.” “Tell you what. Go meet that Barton guy. Consider his chances.  I don’t wanna make you feel like you don’t have a choice, Y/N. You always have a choice. You can even choose not to marry me.” “What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying what I said. Don’t ever think like you don’t have a choice in all this.” “Shouldn’t you be telling yourself the same thing?” “I should. I got my own life. But if this is my only chance to prove myself that I’m worth something, be something to someone. To you...Then I’m gonna do it.”

You sighed deeply and interlaced your hand with his. He was startled at your action. However, it was your instinct to do it. He looked at both your hands and smiled on one corner of his lips as he observed the ring on your finger. He was startled but felt comforted by the gesture.

“We already make a great couple, don’t we?” “I know. It freaks me out, James.” “I know...It scares me too.”

*** Your father accompanied you to the town’s clubhouse to meet with Clint and his parents. The muscles in your legs felt restless. You wanted to get out and go back home. You and your father came early enough for you to mentally prepare yourself. You don’t even know what to say. Though it’s clear that your father will do most of the talking.

Harold Barton and his son Clint arrived at the clubhouse thirty minutes after you and your father. Harold was a brunet man with tall stature. He wasn’t what you expected from a rich man. He was all smiles and didn’t have a businessman vibe on him. Clint, on the other hand, was a more reserved young man. He was blonde and looked like his smile costs a million dollars. Your fathers shook each other’s hands and so did you and Clint as you all greeted each other.

Harold drank and ordered margaritas as if it were nighttime. It was only 10 in the morning. Clint had to talk to the waiter to tell him not to give his father any more alcoholic beverages. He paid the waiter $20 and ordered a club soda with lime served on a cocktail glass instead. That only did the trick once before his father noticed the changeup.

Clint was also quiet just like you were, just listening to the adults talk. But he glanced at you several times to watch your reactions to your fathers’ conversation. You looked back at him but didn’t say anything. All the formality has been said and done in much less time than expected. Your father was straight to the point. He clearly didn’t want to waste any more time. So did you. You just wanted it to be over. You felt uneasy. You kept your head down and quietly searched on your purse for the ring box.

“Your daughter seems like a fine young lady. Perhaps may even be too quiet for my Clinton,” Harold remarked. He already sounded like he had cotton balls in his mouth. “They can be quiet together, Harold. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Your father replied with a stupid grin on his face. “As long as your daughter agrees, I’m fine by it.” You were about to respond but your father interrupted. “Does your son agree?” You began picking up your breath as you fidgeted with the ring that was already out of its box. “Of course, it depends on your daughter, sir,” Clint sternly replied, still observing your behavior. “My daughter needs a husband, Harold. And I think Clint here-”

“Why don’t I get a say in this, Daddy? Even Mr. Barton and his son are making me choose. Why can’t you?” You kept your hands down, still fidgeting, but you were already wearing the ring. “And what? Let you marry that scumbag? He’s not even through high school! That boy is up to no good!” “Sure, because he’s younger than me, obviously. But why do you think he’s taking responsibility in Steve’s place, huh, Daddy? Doesn’t that tell you anything at all?” You began raising your voice. Your father uttered your full name so deeply in his lungs that it made you realize you were still in public. “I’d rather marry someone I know, Daddy.” You turned to Clint. “No offense.” “You do not know that boy! You belong in places like this, darling, and he belongs in the dump!” “But I know him better already. No conversation will ever be good with you if you didn’t like what you heard.” You turned to the Bartons. “I’m sorry for the scene, Clint. Mr. Barton. Thank you for your time.” You finally stood up. Everyone in the restaurant was already looking at your table. You quickly walked away and headed out. You were able to hail a cab at the entrance as someone went out of one. At that moment, you didn’t care about leaving your father in the clubhouse. You hopped on the cab and it cruised away. You felt better being away from your father. You couldn’t wait for everything to be over. You kept holding on to the unfamiliar weight and feeling on your left hand.

With so many thoughts in your head, you almost forgot how you ended up on James’s street. But here you were, standing in front of their house. On the brink of being emotional bordering on rage. When you walked towards the door, you began hearing a woman’s familiar singing voice. Soft and cool to the ears - you knew who was singing. You smiled as you rang the doorbell. Your mood instantly lifted upon hearing the music.

You looked at the ring on your finger and held it while you waited. When the door opened, you looked up to a slightly flushed James Barnes. The edge of a toothpick coming out of his mouth. His hair was a little messy and he wore a thin, collared striped shirt over an undershirt, and a pair of khaki pants.

You smiled at him. “I didn’t know you liked Jo Stafford, too.” He removed the toothpick from his mouth before uttering, “Guess I should say the same thing.” He smiled at you as he wiped his face with a towel. “Come in. How did the meeting go?” “Are you alone?” You asked, taking the hint of his freedom to listen to records on full volume. “Yep. I’m cleaning the house, too. I wasn’t expecting company.” “I didn’t mean to disrupt your cleaning. Maybe I should go…” “No, no, it’s cool. Stay. I’m just about done anyway.” “Where’s your mom?” “Mama went to the store. And the parlor. She won’t be back for another two hours. Make yourself comfortable, doll. Just listen to my girl Jo. I’m just gonna take a quick shower. I smell like shit.”

You just smiled and then sat on the couch. You looked around the living room and began remembering Steve again. Now that you were here for James, you felt like a stranger to their house again. You started wondering how Steve might be doing now, and if he’s still thinking about you. You remembered that night you last saw him that it made you tilt your head down. The first thing your eyes set upon was the ring on your finger. Suddenly you were questioning yourself if this indeed was a good idea. If only this were an alternate universe where you could choose to raise your child alone or wait for Steve or even chase Steve in Oxford.

James’s footsteps descending the stairs interrupted your train of thought. You stood up, holding your purse against your abdomen. James’s hair was now damp and slicked back. He now wore a pressed pair of high-waisted khaki pants and a plain white tee with its sleeves slightly rolled up. He ushered you to the kitchen and served you a glass of orange juice.

“Did the meeting go well?” You realized you didn’t answer him earlier. “With my father being there? Of course not.” “What happened?” “I snapped at him for not making me choose. Even the Bartons were kind enough to consider what I thought.” You sighed sharply. “What’s on your mind then, doll?” You looked at him. You realized you didn’t exactly process your thoughts yet. All you knew was you didn’t want to get married to Clint Barton. You didn’t want your father making decisions on your life. Now, your sigh was softer but deeper. Almost whispering, James asked, “Do you wanna dance with me?”

Startled, you asked, “What, now?” “Why not? It’s a waste of good music. Plus. We got the house to ourselves. No one’s here to yell at us. Or judge us…This ain’t much of a dancefloor, but it’s not like we’ll be swingin’ to Jo Stafford.” “All right, all right. You convinced me enough, Barnes.”

He offered his hand to you and you gave him yours. As if you two were in a speakeasy, your motions were shy. As if the two of you had just met that day. “Give Me Something To Dream About” began playing. Your left hand rested on James’s shoulder, and your right was held by his left one. His right hand was on your waste, gently resting there. He swayed you gently and you began to relax.

“I told my father I didn’t wanna marry Clint Barton.” “In front of them?” “Well, I didn’t exactly say that. I told him I’d rather marry someone I know.” He remained silent, eyes glued on you. You went on. “I asked him why don’t I get a say in all this. That even the Bartons respected my decision. Why couldn’t he?” “You stood up to him?” “Yeah,” you said in a breath. It just occurred to you that you did. “For the first time in my whole life.” “Thatta-girl.” “Then I stormed off. And somehow I ended up here. To tell you.” You startled him, making him stop swaying you. “Tell me what?” Your hand slowly slid from his shoulder to his chest. You could feel his chest pounding all of a sudden. Then you showed your left hand that bore the ring he gave you. “I don’t care if my father’s against it. I’d rather marry someone I can trust. You showed me that in just two days. I barely know you but I can feel that I can trust you. I can trust you, can’t I, James Barnes?”

The look on James’s face was something you’ve never seen before. His lips were parted. He closed it when he swallowed on his throat. He must have been dumbfounded by your honesty, however touching. He gently grabbed your hand and raised it near his face before kissing your knuckles lightly. A smile formed on his face. “You can count on me, doll.”

Two Weeks Later

Moments before the ceremony, you were finally dressed and made up. A white Cadillac bridal car was parked outside your house. Wanda helped you with your dress and bouquet filled with tulips. You nervously walked across the hallway, slowly, and you descended the staircase gracefully. Your mother was waiting outside the car. Your small entourage, composed of your little brother Bruce as the ring bearer, Becca Barnes, as the flower girl, already left for church.

The wedding ceremony was held on a Tuesday so it won’t interrupt any regular service. It was intimate enough for a church wedding since only your and James’s family and a small group of relatives were invited. Once the bridal car arrived at the church, your nervousness increased. The future was drawing in so near and so quickly that you wished you could just pause the time. Your mother went out of the car and so did Wanda, but you called her at an impulse. She bent towards the window. “Would you please call James for me?”

“Sweetie, you know you’re not supposed to see the groom. Bad luck.” “Don’t you think I’m in deep enough shit already? I don’t care. Please, Wanda. I need to talk to him.” Wanda was startled at your scoffing. “I’m sorry. I love you. Please call him.” “Ok. You’re lucky it’s your wedding day.” Wanda rushed inside the church and looked for James. You shifted in your seat and fixed your dress. You played with the ring on your finger. It didn’t take long and James emerged on the side of the car. He bent down to peek at you from outside the car window.

At the sight of you in your wedding dress and makeup, James swallowed on his throat before asking, “Hey, doll. You called? You know we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony.” You gave him a quick glance and said, “Could you come inside?” James didn’t respond but did as you asked. Suddenly, you noticed he smelled good. Like wood spice and orange. You looked at him now, sitting close to you in his black tux. His jaw was cleanly shaven. His brunet hair was neatly parted to one side. “Are you all right?”

“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this with me?” Bucky shifted in his seat and moved for his body to face you. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m ready. I’m nervous, but I’m ready.” “I’m sweating like hell. And I think I’m about to cry.” But you stopped yourself. James grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to you. “Go ahead. Least you’re not alone this time.” You glanced at him and then at the white handkerchief that bore the initials, “J.B.B.” You accepted it and brushed your fingers over the embroidered initials. “Will I ever know why you’re so kind to me?” Your eyes were now moist. You were missing Steve so much and wished he was the one waiting for you in the aisle. “Should there be a reason?” You smiled and shook your head. “I’m with you.” He gently held your cold, sweaty hands. His hands weren’t sweaty, but they felt colder than yours. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?” You nodded. “Do I have yours?”

You drew a sharp breath and looked at him in the eyes. There was sincerity in them. You squeezed his hands and muttered, “You do.”

He gave you a small smile and squeezed your hand back. Then he got out of the car but you grabbed his wrist and told him that he forgot his handkerchief. “Hang on to it. See you at the aisle?” You squeezed the square, white cloth in your palms, and then nodded at him. “You better be standing there when I reach the end of it.” He winked at you. By this time, you were already used to his casual winking.

“You better be marching down that aisle,” he shot back with a smirk.

Moments later, you went out of the car. Both your families waited in anticipation for the ceremony to start. You stood before the door. Holding your tulip bouquet, you drew in a deep breath unknowingly. This was the moment you’ve been dreading. The one moment that would change your life.

The church doors opened and before you stood the small number of family members on each side of the church, looking at you. A harpist began playing a song. They were smiling. But you couldn’t keep looking at them. Your parents stood beside you and so you began walking. Wanda and the small entourage were already standing in position as they await you.

James stood nervously at the end of the aisle. Beside him was Wanda’s twin brother, Pietro, his best man, neighbor, and best friend since childhood. You walked the aisle nervously, your knees wobbling. When every other woman in the world who must be walking down the aisle in their beautiful wedding gown and weeping tears of joy, here you were, weeping sadness deep inside you. Your life unfolding with every step you took.

As the heels of your shoes finally took you to the end of the aisle, you gave each of your parents a peck on the cheek, almost mindlessly as you should have. James stood before you, one hand on his back and the other waiting for yours to hold. When you turned away from your parents and faced him, your hand grabbed his with quite a startling manner — your grip was tighter than you thought it’d be. Your knees still felt wobbly as the moment to say “I do” drew near.

He held your hand tightly enough that you knew you wouldn’t throw yourself out of balance in front of the whole church. “You ready, doll?”

“I’m ready if you are.”

Pastor Phil began to officiate the ceremony. You stared at him mindlessly as he announced to every attendee the true meaning of marriage. With words of unconditional love and respect for one another, Pastor Phil guided you and James to say your vows and finally, your “I do’s.”

With your mind drifting in and out of your wedding ceremony, you were startled when everyone behind you began clapping. “You may kiss the bride,” Pastor Phil said so kindly, his eyes twinkling as he smiled. You and James stared at each other nervously, for you didn’t think of this moment before.

“I know a trick,” James whispered. “Tilt your head to your right.” He held your neck gently with his cold hands and drew you near his face. By the time your lips were barely an inch closer to each other, he tilted your head a little more and kissed the very spot where the corner of your lips began. He covered the sides of your mouths when you catch a hint of the smell of his breath. This chaste kiss from his pink lips took long enough for your audience to think you had actually kissed, gaining another round of applause from them.

For a quick moment, he took notice of your startled face. “I told you I ain’t doin’ anythin’ you don’t want me to.”

To be continued in 

Chapter Five - The City

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[nominalbutler]

modern bar au pt. 2

Here it is, the second installment of the modern bar AU, which I am tentatively titling The Windup. The first part began as a drabble for a prompt request thing that I did, and it can be read here. Thanks to everyone who read the first part and voiced their interest in a continuation; I hope you enjoy. 

...

It was another week and a half before Sebastian was actually able to talk to Ciel. The night the young man came in from the cold, face ruddy and fingers frozen, the three-man staff had suddenly found themselves swamped with work; a crowd of students celebrating someone’s 21st birthday with a pub crawl had stumbled their way over the threshold as soon as Ciel hung up Sebastian’s coat and finished washing his hands.

Bard was busy working the fryers in the back, cooking buffalo wings and loaded waffle fries and potato skins, and Sebastian was slammed with clambering kids at the bar, all pushing one another to order the most expensive or risque drinks. When he wasn’t helping Bard with the dishes, Ciel was scurrying back and forth from the kitchen to the tables, delivering plates of steaming, greasy food and refilling water glasses and iced teas for the ones that needed to take a small reprieve from drinking. One of the boys in the group ended up calling Ciel a faggot when he accidentally gave him a plate of nachos that the person across from him had ordered, and Ciel was sorely tempted to hit him upside the head with his serving tray. It took everything in him not to; he would never hear the end of it from his father. He brushed it off, shooting the frat boy a cold glance and a snarky comment in response, but it was plain to see the derogatory comment landed Ciel in a sour mood the rest of the night. He couldn’t even enjoy the large tip the rude boy’s girlfriend had insisted he leave as a means of recompense for his shitty attitude. It was uncomfortably quiet as the small staff cleaned up the bar after last call, and Sebastian did not think it was the best time to strike up a conversation.

The rest was just bad timing. When Sebastian was scheduled to work, Ciel had the night off. When it was Sebastian’s day off, Ciel had to work. If he had bothered to check, the debonair bartender would not have been so disheartened when he clocked in and found only Mey-Rin or Bard or someone else behind the counter the next few days. So he waited patiently and expectantly for Thursday to come around again, the day that his and Ciel’s name both appeared on the schedule.

He found himself checking his hair and his teeth in the rear-view mirror of his car before he clocked in on the prescribed date, and had to mentally chide himself for being so vain. To try and impress Ciel now was pointless. He had seen Sebastian in all manner of states before; clean-scrubbed and freshly dressed, creases sharp and hair styled, as well as disheveled, hungover, and craving the sweet release of death at three in the afternoon. It really wasn’t important how he dressed. When he turned the charm on, there wasn’t anybody Sebastian couldn’t snag. There was only an hour overlap between their shifts, with Ciel opening and Sebastian closing, but it was all the time he needed. He guided his hand through his hair once for good measure and headed towards the bar.

“Hey, Sebastian.” Bard grumbled a perfunctory greeting as Sebastian strolled through the back door, dumping an order of wings into the fryer and carefully dropping it into the crackling oil. Sebastian greeted him with a nod and went to hang his coat up on the hook, taking one deep inhale before sliding it off his shoulders; the lingering smell of Ciel’s cigarette smoke had faded quicker than he had liked.

“How’d your daughter’s birthday party go?”

“Great,” Bard said, suddenly breaking into a wide smile. His daughter, recently turned six, was the light of his life, and his favorite subject of conversation. It was so endearing to listen to him, and Sebastian was perfectly happy wasting the last few minutes before the start of his shift hearing about Bard’s techniques for wrangling small children hopped up on birthday party jitters and cookie cake. There was no reason to rush up front; Sebastian knew Ciel would still be there when he clocked in.

Except that he wasn’t. Instead of a pair of brooding azure eyes and pale lithe limbs, Sebastian was met with an uneven smile and a head of long, unnaturally red hair.

“Sebastian!” Grell sang a melodic, yet terribly off-key greeting. “Great, now that you’re here, I can leave.”

“Hold up,” Sebastian held up a hand, blocking Grell from escaping from behind the bar. “What are you doing here? Isn’t Ciel supposed to be working right now?”

“Yeah, supposed to be. But he’s not, so I have to cover for him. But since you’re here,” she chirped affectionately, “I can leave now.”

“Technically, that opening shift lasts another hour. And since when do you cover for people?” Sebastian asked indignantly. “If I had known that, I would’ve called you in last month when Bard was out of town and it felt like I had the fucking plague.” Grell’s nominal position as a manager had her in only a couple of times a week to collect the deposits, evaluate the stock, place orders for more alcohol and bar food, and make sure they were keeping up with their bills.

“I got a call from Vincent this morning,” the redhead explained, “asking me to cover his son’s shift! Can you believe that shit?”

“What?” Sebastian blanched. “Why?”

Grell waved a hand and shrugged, “I don’t know.” Gathering her purse from under the bar, the manager tried once again to sidle past Sebastian and head towards the exit. And once again, she found herself trapped by the bartender’s tall, agile frame.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said. “You’re the nosiest woman I know. Come on,” Sebastian coaxed, “sit for an hour, have a drink with me and let’s gossip. It’s been too long since you and I talked, hasn’t it?” He slyly reached out and grabbed the strap of Grell’s purse, sliding it seductively off her shoulder and setting it on the bar.

The excitable manager squealed, “Oh, alright. You know I can’t say no to you.”

It was a slow Thursday evening, and Sebastian gave Mey-Rin the nod that told her to hold down the bar while he talked with Grell. Mey-Rin, friendly as could be, nodded happily and pranced behind the counter, wiping down the polished surface with a fresh rag. Sebastian poured himself a drink, a diluted whiskey and Coke since he would have to return to work after this, and whipped up some strong fruity mixer for Grell to sip on. They settled in at the corner end of the bar, underneath a TV that was rolling a muted reel of highlights from earlier in the week, athletes running and jumping to the silent cheers from the crowds. Technically the bar didn’t allow smoking inside, but Grell lit up anyway, offering her pack to Sebastian in a polite but superficial gesture. He surprised her by taking one of the proffered American Spirits and lighting it with a Bic from his pocket.

“Since when did you start smoking again? Don’t tell me it’s ‘cause of that Ciel kid. Boy smokes like a fucking chimney I hear…”

Sebastian scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous,” and exhaled a weak trail of smoke. “Some habits are just harder to kick than others.”

Grell smirked and took a drag. “Whatever you say, Sebby.”

Rinsing his mouth of the first few drags with his drink, Sebastian cleared his throat and began pushing the conversation towards what he wanted to hear. He was eager to learn what had happened to Ciel. Even if it was nothing serious, he couldn’t just let it go. Not after he had spent the past week nearly obsessing over him, patiently waiting for a chance to see him again. “So, tell me about earlier. Vincent called you?”

“He did!” Grell said as she practically swallowed her drink in one gulp. “At the house, too, the nerve of him… Woke William up from his nap – he’s been working so hard lately, the graveyard shift really takes it out of him. Two whole years he’s been working for that museum and they still treat him like some replaceable rent-a-cop or some shit. He should be head of security by now, I tell you what…” It took some work, lots of redirecting and steering Grell back towards the relevant topic, but eventually Sebastian was able to piece together almost the whole story. As he did, the weight in his stomach grew, like someone had dumped a metric ton of gravel in his gut; cold, heavy, grating.

Ciel had been in a car crash. Whether he spun out on a patch of black ice, or somebody else had was unclear; all Sebastian knew was that the cute little server ended up getting T-boned by a Chevy Tahoe and rushed to the emergency room late last night. He knew that Ciel was alive and breathing on his own, though he wasn’t sure if he was fully conscious or in need of any surgery. Sebastian also knew that he couldn’t just hop in his car and drive to the hospital to see him like he suddenly found himself wanting to do. How weird would that be? He’d probably freak Ciel out if he showed up right now.

So he finished his drink, smoked another cigarette with Grell, pretended to engage in friendly banter and gossip until he could no longer play along. He didn’t quite care what the manager did now that he had gotten what he wanted from her, and he had become so clearly preoccupied with what he heard that the redhead took the opportunity to slither out of the bar with a waggle of her fingers and a comical, exaggerated “Toodleoo!”

The rest of the night was a literal blur, a dissociated haze. Sebastian found himself daydreaming, passing the hours behind the bar fantasizing about what it would be like to curl up beside the young man’s banged up body in the hospital bed, hard plastic railings along the sides of the mattress confining them together in a warm embrace. He glossed over the tangle of IV tubes and wires he would inevitably get caught up in; ignored the bag of piss that was likely attached to the edge of the bedframe and connected to Ciel by the long thin tube shoved up his urethra. He didn’t think about Ciel’s dad, his boss, sitting in a corner, one leg crossed over the other, reading a magazine as his son’s monitors beeped steadily.

He thought about holding Ciel’s small hand, thumb stroking back and forth along the boy’s parched skin, sucked dry by the warm recycled hospital air being blasted through the vents. He thought about running his fingers through that cute little bobbed mop of hair, dyed blue like the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean. He thought about draping an arm over Ciel’s waist, curling up beside him, face tucked in the crook of his neck, listening to the breath draw in and out of his lungs. He didn’t think about fucking him; he just wanted to hold him.

The cold, bitter breeze outside rattled Sebastian’s bones when he stepped outside at the end of the night and realized he had forgotten his coat. The last few hours of his shift had been completely lost to him in his distracted state. Sebastian supposed he did what he always did: made drinks, chatted with the regulars, counted the drawer, cleaned up and closed with Mey-Rin and Finny, who had replaced Bard not long after Grell’s departure. He just couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop worrying about Ciel.

Again, he had to scold himself for being so silly. There was nothing he could do for the young man. He was already taken care of, safely nestled in the care of those who actually knew how to help him. Sebastian clicked his tongue against his teeth, shook his head at his own foolishness as he headed back inside and discovered that he had completely forgotten to lock the front door of the bar. Retrieving his coat from the back, Sebastian realized the acrid tobacco smoke smell was coming from him, his own fingertips and his hair; it was not the meager essence of Ciel clinging to the fabric of his jacket, lingering around to keep him company as he pulled the collar up to his chin to deter the cold from sneaking down the front of his shirt.

Driving home on autopilot, Sebastian tried to piece together what he knew about Ciel. It wasn’t much. Aside from physical characteristics and some idiosyncratic mannerisms, he knew next to nothing about his boss’s son. Quiet, thin, and short, Sebastian could barely hazard a guess at how old Ciel really was – he barely looked legal, but he had to be if he worked at the bar. Sebastian knew he was a part-time student at the local university, but he couldn’t say what he was studying. He knew the Phantomhives were a wealthy family, but Sebastian could not parse out the nature of Ciel’s relationship with them, whether it was good or bad, whether or not there was a mother or other siblings in the picture.

Small talk and conversation were not the young man’s strong suits, but it did not dissuade Sebastian in the slightest. He found himself infinitely infatuated with the kid. It twisted his stomach up into knots to think about him lying in a hospital bed somewhere, not knowing whether or not he was okay, not knowing if or when he would get to see him again. For all he knew, the opportunity to talk to Ciel, to get to know him, to be more than a coworker to him, could have slipped right through his fingers, and Sebastian would never be able to forgive himself.

#i never know whether or not to stick this under a read more or not #like its not terribly long but i know some people may not be interested #i'll hopefully upload this all to ao3 once i get the third installment done #fic #j writes

[soapxmactavish]

Project ‘Extractor’

was looking through my old school files and found this goodie from year 9. i’d written this just over a year ago. for english, we had to write a scifi short story and boi i was so bloody excited. how lucky was i to get this genre? too bad i was restricted with a small as fuck word limit otherwise i would’ve expanded on this so much more 

yes i was heavily inspired by deus ex: mankind divided for this - i was completely obsessed with that game and its DLC’s back then :D (yes, the main character in here is meant to be adam jensen - not like my teacher would’ve known gaming to save her life) 

note: there are mistakes in here, i decided to not edit the doc - something like a progress check to see how far i’ve come in over a year? i dunno, it seems neat. but i have changed the location of the suburb since it was meant to be a local setting - just privacy and all that jazz. 

fun fact: this was the only english assignment where i got an A - the rest were B’s. is this a sign? 

----

“We just need you to explain the events of the Extractor for the very last time. Then, we can put this all to bed and kiss it goodnight.”

    I sighed.” You wanna hear a story. Alright,” I sat down on the leather chair. Scratching my scarred beard, I looked at the new psychologist.” I’ll tell you a story.

    “It was the twentieth of March, twenty-twenty-nine. There was a storm - lightning, thunder, wind, heavy rain, you know the drill. Residents in Whittleton were forced to stay in for the night. The previous few nights, the Extractor was at large, hunting down Mech’s. Everybody was scared, and they had every right to be. For protection, the local police department enforced martial law.

    “I had some notion of what to expect when I was investigating the case. I should have been better prepared…”

6 months ago

“Another night, another death,” the overweight cop said to me. We were standing in an alleyway, nearby the main street. The environment was shrouded in rain, lightning and thunder erupting above us. The wind was howling and I tightened my coat around what skin was left on my mostly mechanically-enhanced body. 

    “What you cold for?” Detective Rodriguez asked, his shivering evident in his voice.” Most of ya’s metal. Not like us organics.”

    I ignored the comment, not wanting to make things even more complicated than what they already were.” So, have your boys collected up all the evidence they can? Got a name on the victim?” 

    Rodriguez shook his head.” To be honest with you, the police station isn’t fully motivated to investigate your kind’s incidents. I’m completely against it, even trying to get some help from some of my buddies. Nothing.”

    I looked to the side, shaking my head, before looking back at the Latino cop.” Why wouldn’t your buddies help, if you knew it was the right thing to do?”

    Rodriguez shrugged.” We have one thing in common, you and I – we’re always put in nasty situations. That whole incident with you and the police force way back when. Repugnante. Nasty.”

    I glared at the cop through my gold-tinted eye shields.” Bring up that again, and we’re gonna have a real problem. What’s done is done. I made my choice to leave the force.”

    “Senor Evans, I mean in no way to offend, but we have a case to solve now. Mind getting started?”

    I gave the cop one last look, before looking at the bloody mess in front of me. Already, I could see some leading objects. Walking up to the corpse, I saw that every cyberlimb was removed, placed in a pile nearby the organic torso and head. Every part, cyber and organic, was wet from the rain.

    “We know that this isn’t local gang business,” Rodriguez stated.” They take them and we never see them again. Sell them or wire them in themselves. No, this is someone new.”

    “Yeah, and the new guy doesn’t hoard them, I noticed.” 

    I noticed long gashes on the woman’s face, as I went to pick up her ID card.” Callie Woods. Botanist of a facility called Greenhouse Plant. ID number, picture, date of birth – it’s all here.”

    I handed the card to the cop. After a second, he spoke up.” No pattern in victims, except they’re all mechanical. You cyborgs have a real thing for…never mind.     “Anyways, I’ve heard about these people. No one big. Their closest place is just down the road.”

    I shrugged.” It’s a lead. Let’s comb this place before we go.”

    Rodriguez shook his head, looking down at the corpse.” Actually, since it’s technically my case, I’ll set up a perimeter and bag anything that seems to pop out. Here,” the detective handed me something,” my card. Keep me in the loop, amigo.”

    Pocketing the slip, I nodded.” Sure.”

. . .

Rodriguez’s voice appeared in my head, via neural comms.“ Senor Evans, are you there?”

    “Yeah. What’s up?”

    “I’ve just laid out all the case files in front of me and I think I’ve found a pattern.”

    “What is it?”

    “The Extractor, he – hey!”

    I heard gunshots and bangs through the line, and I stop the bike. The turn off to Greenhouse Plant was coming up, but the detective was in trouble. I had a choice to make.

    I either continue onto the Greenhouse Plant and investigate the lead there, or I go back and help Detective Rodriguez. 

    I tapped the bars, deep in thoughts. Who am I kidding?

    Burning rubber, I spun the bike around and floored it down the highway. No one else was dying when I had a hand in play.

. . .

I barged inside Detective Rodriguez’s house – the last place he was tracked at. Signs of struggle were seen throughout his living room – chairs were strewn around, glass smashed, doors off their hinges, blood stains everywhere and on a bat.

    I saw where it seem to begun – the living room. A laptop was open on his desk, still unlocked.

    For a cop, his security is terrible. 

    Leaving me no choice, I sat down at the desk and went through Rodriguez’s open windows. I saw some random tabs open, and I decided to minimise them, so I could probably prolong the battery life. I didn’t have time to look around for a charger.

    I found nothing in his emails or messages. No leads to pinpoint a way to who took him and where they took him.

    Slamming the desk in frustration, I backed away from the computer. There were no cliché blood trails leading me to a fantasy world. 

    Suddenly, a holographic view of a masked man holding a gun appeared in the living room window. I cautiously approached it, not wanting to get into a trap.

    “Help a friend out – one-one-two Marybelle Road. Don’t take too long.”

    Right after the holographic figure disappeared, I heard loud slamming. 

Spinning around, I saw that the windows were covered in bulletproof window covers. Racing to the door, I turned it as hard as I could. Nothing. A female-voice AI started speaking from all around the house.

    “Security has been initiated. 10 seconds before self-destruct.”

    My cyberhand converted into a matte black grenade launcher within a second. All it took was a single blast for the door to turn into flying splinters.

    Rushing out of the door, I heard the AI’s last seconds, before a rush of wind sent me flying forward. With a loud ringing in my ears, I turned around, seeing Rodriguez’s house in flames. 

   Before the fire brigade could turn up, I hopped onto my slightly-damaged bike, rushing out of the street.

. . .

    Stealthily, I crept down the backroom stairs. I heard a faint sound, but I didn’t let that concern me at the moment.

    I saw Detective Rodriguez tied in a chair, his head fallen forward. A small pool of blood was beneath his head. Knocked out. Rushing for his aid, I saw that he was only unconscious.

    “Rodriguez!” I whisper-yelled, trying to wake him up. Without success, I decided to carry him out on my own and get him to my apartment. 

    What I expected for the detective to do was slowly wake up. What I didn’t expect was him to lash out at me like a wild man. He fisted his hands, giant metal claw-like strips coming out of his knuckles, something like out of Wolverine comics. I jumped back, grabbing my revolver from its holster.

    I was too slow, as I was pinned down by Rodriguez, my gun sliding just out of reach. His eyes were crazy, but his voice was calm, laced with his Argentinian heritage.” Were you really that foolish?! How did you not guess? I’m the Extractor!”

    “Yeah, kinda figured that out,” I grunted, trying to break free. Instinctively, I activated the magnetic features of my cyberhands, my revolver leaping to me. As soon as it was caught, I swung the butt of the gun onto Rodriguez’s head, knocking him out instantly. He fell to the side, limp.

    Taking a few heavy breaths, I stood up, limping out of the crime scene. I needed to get out of this place as fast as possible.

Present Day

I rubbed into a knot that was forming in my neck. Being here forever and retelling the same thing over and over again wasn’t my ideal meeting.

    “So, you just left Detective Rodriguez dead?”

    I shook my head.” I made sure he was only unconscious. I’m not one to sentence someone to their fate – I leave that for others to decide.”

    “’Once a cop, always a cop’, eh?”  

    I shrugged.” Something like that.”

    “Well, thank you for coming in today, Agent Evans.”

    I stood up from the chair, towards the door.” Sure.”

#personal #bro looking back at this i wasn't as bad as i thought i was #thank fuck i learned how to properly put quotation marks #aj writes

[dreamhimcloser]

BEWILDER - Poly!JiHope

Word count: 12.1k Summery: The sudden losing of your apartment - right before exam season no less - led you to move in with your boyfriend and his best friend. Movie nights, some drinks and the absent of said boyfriend from the apartment for a while can lead to more good then you could ever hope for. Genre:  Dancing students!JiHope. Warnings: No actual smut, but there’s boner talk.

You groaned and angrily exited the texting app on your phone. Your boyfriend’s smiling face replaced it and you could feel yourself relaxing slightly, even if all you saw was a picture of him. The owner of your apartment announced the return of her son to Seoul, and the need for your immediate departure when your contract ends. This left you with two weeks to find another apartment, a race against time that you can’t win against even if you deluded yourself out of your mind.

You had no place to go.

You looked at your boyfriend’s face again. You could always ask Jimin to temporarily move in with him until you find another apartment. It’ll be a weird request, mainly because you’ve been together for long enough to actually move in with each other. You haven’t even talked about taking that step in your relationship, and having no apartment of your own was nerve-wracking enough without the addition of such a conversation with all of its consequences.

As if on cue, Jimin’s picture switched to one of the two of you together as the caller id took over your screen. His voice filled the space of your living room with a cover he made for you on your two year anniversary. You didn’t even know he could sing before he surprised you with that recording, but apparently there’s nothing your dancer boyfriend can’t do with absolute perfection.

You cut his singing voice short with a quick slide of your thumb on your screen, “Hey, babe.”

“My baby!” Jimin exclaimed from the other end. You could spot the usual sounds of video games from the background, and a groaning voice that didn’t belong to Jimin.

That voice belonged to his roommate and classmate, Hoseok, would also be affected by it. You’ll most likely be more of a burden on him then on your own boyfriend. He was also the second reason why you and Jimin haven’t moved in together yet. Jimin and Hoseok have been living together since high school, since Jimin’s home was on the other side of the country, a distance he can’t possibly cover every day. The board of the school spoke to Hoseok’s parents who agreed to take the teenager in with absolute joy, and the rest was history. They must be used to having their space, to being around each other in the comfort of their home and the boundaries they set. All of these things didn’t matter when you slept over their place once in a while, but if it’ll be an everyday thing for god knows how long, it could be a problem.

“You stopped replying,” Jimin said, the last word of his sentence sounding tight as he probably came through a tough part of the game.

“Yeah, my landlord messaged me so I’m staying away from the app until I’ll know what to answer.”

“Did something bad happen?”

“Sort of.”

The second you formed those words you heard Jimin’s voice – more muffled then before – as he asked Hoseok to pause the game for a second. You couldn’t help but smile at how fast Jimin reacted when he thought you needed his full concentration, even though playing those games can suck him in pretty bad.

“I’m all yours,” Jimin’s voice became clear again. “What did she tell you?”

“Her son is coming back to Seoul and she needs the apartment,” You said simply, not feeling like dragging it out. You were nervous over having to have this talk with Jimin as it was, you just wanted it to be over with.

“No,” Jimin cutely dragged the word, letting his voice reach lower with each second in a comical affect. You giggled as you heard Jimin relaying your words to Hoseok, but you couldn’t understand what Hoseok replied to him with.

“How long you got?”

“Two weeks, maybe even minus a day or two since he wants to move in here asap,” You sighed and settled back in your bed against your mountain of pillows. A part of you wished that mountain of pillows would be Jimin.

“There’s no way you’ll find an apartment so fast,” Jimin made a small, angry noise before relaying it to Hoseok.

And this time, Hoseok’s reply made him turn pretty quiet.

“Wow thank you for believing in me,” You chuckled, looking up at the plastic stars filled ceiling. Sometimes Jimin (and Hoseok) would go on dance competitions in different countries and Jimin made sure to plant stars on your ceiling so that no matter where he is and how many tall buildings conceal the stars from your eyes, you could always look up and think of each other. It was really sweet and you kind of felt sad about having to tear it down now. “I’ll try my best anyways, maybe move in with Wendy, the girl from my Western Culture class I’ve been telling you about – “

“Hey babe,” Jimin cut you off, and you could hear the shuffling of him moving around. His slippers made their familiar noise against the floor as he walked away from his living room. “Hoseok suggested something just now.”

“What?”

“What if you’ll move in with us?” You could hear a door shut behind him as his voice got smaller. You paused, surprised that your important conversation actually started from Hoseok’s suggestion. “I mean, if you don’t want to live with two guys it can only be temporary, while you’re looking for a new apartment, but you know, to make it easier for you – “

“Jimin, you’re rumbling,” You laughed lightly, a few stones lifted from your heart when you heard him being as nervous as you about it. “It’ll be amazing actually, I can’t really imagine finding an apartment in two weeks or less. Now when it’s almost exam time and no one will have the time to handle the technicalities of having someone move in.”

“Wow you should believe in yourself!” Jimin giggled from the other side of the line as he threw himself down on his bed. “Seriously though, having you live with me could be sweet. Maybe you could even look for apartments more slowly than you should.”

“Hmm, we should see how the three of us live together first,” You concluded and Jimin hummed in agreement. “Living with you is going to be amazing though, no matter how long it’ll last.”

Living with Jimin – and Hoseok – turned out to be really amazing. They helped you move the things you brought with you, after Jimin helped you drop all your furniture in a warehouse designed for the work. Both boys sat by your boxes and arranged your things with you, finding places around the house where your belongings could fit. You told them countless times they don’t have to help you, they’ve done more than enough by letting you stay with them until you find a place of your own.

Hoseok flashed you a bright smile, almost brighter than the sun, as he told you not to worry too much. They helped you without you having to even ask, strictly because they wanted to. You accepted his words with a nod of the head, feeling your heart becoming lighter with ease.

After your moving was done, it felt pretty fast like you’ve always lived with them. You could find your time to spend with Jimin, Hoseok and both boys at once. Of course living with your boyfriend came with the amazing perk of having his arms around you every single night when you fall asleep – that alone was enough to convince you to stay right there and never look back.

Only at times when Jimin pulled you closer on the couch and Hoseok looked the slightest bit uncomfortable did the need to find a new apartment rose. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel like an outcast in his own home.

You found a few apartments to check out, in a bit of a hurry to maybe find something before the exam season hit like a tornado. Jimin insisted to tag along, and you wondered what drove him to spend less time on practice just to see where you’ll live in the future. His intentions became clear when he found every bad thing about each apartment you visited just to make sure you won’t take it.

You should have been mad, but Jimin looked so cute when he tries to fake innocence.

As you exited the sixth apartment you found, you gave him a meaningful look as you pulled on his hand to stop his step, “You’re being really obvious, you know.”

“Obvious with how in love I am with you?” Jimin narrowed his eyes whimsically as he brought both hands to hold yours. You could feel his fingers brushing along yours in an attempt to course you out of setting him straight.

“Obvious with your sabotaging my hunt,” You giggled and pulled on his fingers, leading him to start walking towards his apartment again.

“Well, can you blame me?” Jimin lifted your hand with his, until he could slip him arm behind your head to rest on your shoulder.

“You’re not even trying to deny it!”

“I wouldn’t dare, I know you’re on to me already,” Jimin pecked the side of your head, “Having you around all the time just feels good. Really good, more than I thought it would. I actually thought about starting to look for an apartment with you, so the two of us could move in together.”

“But Hoseok,” You wrinkled your nose as you thought about Jimin moving away from his best friend.

Jimin and Hoseok have always been close, it’s a given from being best friends for so long, but you knew there was more to it than just that. It didn’t take a fool to see the special little looks Hoseok gave Jimin when he wasn’t looking. You always wondered how long Hoseok’s been crushing – or having even deeper feelings – on Jimin, ever since you met the both of them it was there. You thought Hoseok wouldn’t like you as a result, but when you and Jimin told him you’re dating, he accepted you with his signature smile and a warm hug. He was never mean to you, never made you feel like you’re taking Jimin away from him. He seemed genuinely happy for the two of you.

But it’ll probably hurt him if Jimin will move away. They’re too used to each other by now.

“But Hoseok,” Jimin agreed and met your eyes. You could see the conflict in his eyes, and you got it. “I think maybe we can ask him if it’s okay with him to let the hunt go until exams are over, at least? I bet he wouldn’t mind if you’d stay longer.”

“We can ask him,” You squeezed Jimin’s hand and gave him a reassuring smile. “How about we seduce him into agreeing with a good meal? What does he like to eat?”

“Everything Korean, pretty much. And Sprite.”

“Oh, we will definitely not forget the Sprite,” You giggled, already aware of the dancer’s undeniable love for that specific beverage.

Before going to the apartment you stopped to gather ingredients you needed to cook Hoseok’s surprise meal. The entire concept was oddly domestic, shopping with Jimin to cook for Hoseok. It was probably a result from living with the both of them, you don’t really need a relationship to feel domestic with someone.

Hoseok wasn’t home when you finally came back, which gave you and Jimin the time to prepare everything before he arrived. Jimin made sure to text Hoseok and ask him when he’ll be back before helping you with whatever you told him to do. You didn’t get to cook with Jimin that often, giving how you were pretty lazy after days filled with studying and practice, but when you got to it was always fun. Your boyfriend was pretty clueless about all things kitchen related, and it was fun to watch him figure out how to do things and succeed at making them taste well.

Hoseok came through the door before Jimin even had the chance to check what his answer was, and his tired body led him straight to the kitchen and the amazing smell that filled it. “What are you making?”

“The best dinner you’ve had in a while,” You replied with a smile on your face, waving the specula you were holding at him.

“My almost dead body thanks you,” Hoseok laughed wholeheartedly before he collapsed on one of the chains by the dining table.

“Ew hyung, go take a shower,” You could hear Jimin tease his friend behind you, “and make sure to drink all the fluids you lost. You always get dehydrated when you work on a new routine.”

“By the time you’ll be out dinner will be really. And a tall glass of iced Sprite.”

Hosoek made a happy squeak before his heavy footsteps sounded growing distant as he went to do as you’ve told.

You felt Jimin press a kiss to the skin of your shoulder, and you turned to look at his happy face. He smiled at you before he cleaning up your working space, and you chose not to ask him what the sudden affection was for.

You plated the food while Jimin moved everything he could onto the dining table, set for three. Keeping your promise in mind, you took the biggest glass there was in their cabinet and filled it with freshly frozen cubes of ice, and Hoseok’s favorite drink. You sent as far as adding a few small, green leaves of mint into the mix, just to make the taste a bit fresher.

“Someone’s putting real effort in,” Jimin commented from his seat at the table. You turned around to watch him remove the lid off of the pot to fill the bowls he set on the table with the thick substance within.

“I just think it’ll be fun to drink something like that after dancing his ass off,” You chuckled and placed the glass by Hoseok’s filled plate. Maybe you should do this more, having this home-y feeling was really nice, and with as hard as Jimin and Hoseok are working on their routines, it’ll probably only do good.

You accepted your plate back from Jimin with a smile just as Hoseok came back into the room. His hair was wet, drops of water still dripping along his cheeks like a liquid frame to his pretty face. Even though Jimin was the prettiest man you’re ever seen in your life – he literally took your breath away that first time you saw him, and he never failed to mention how embarrassing you acted with every chance he had – Hoseok came as a close second. His face is so handsome, you could look at him for hours and never get tired. Sometimes, when Jimin was napping during a movie and only the pair of you remained focused, you took the time to look at him. Sometimes he looked back. You didn’t know why it took Jimin being distracted, but sharing these warm moments with Hoseok just felt… Good.

“This looks amazing,” Hoseok’s smile broke your train of thought. He took the seat – to your right and Jimin’s left, right between you in their small, square table. Jimin agreed, thanking you for the food before he dug in with no farther due. Hoseok followed his lead, but only after taking a long sip from the drink you made for him. His fingers brushed over your hand as he thanked you with words before he put his hands to better use.

You should definitely do this again.

You ate your food and listened to their light conversation over dancing room gossip, amused by the things that kept them busy when dancing didn’t. Someone got together with someone else, but they had different dance partners and the female of the pair will be doing a sexy dance with her partner, who’s not her boyfriend. Apparently, the other dancers began placing bets for who will get angry and couldn’t control themselves first, and Jimin showed clear disdain at not being a part of the action.

Soon your stomachs were full and the conversation reached a pleasant ending and Jimin’s eyes landed on you in question. You nodded, ready to ask Hoseok what you made this entire meal to ask. Jimin cleared his throat, both of your eyes moving to look at Hoseok who was more than happy to slurp in his seat, hands cradling his almost empty glass of Sprite. “Hyung.”

Hoseok hummed in acknowledgement and Jimin continued, his hand reaching out across the table to grasp your own, “We have something to ask you, actually. We went to see a few apartments already, but because it’s almost exam season I guess the selection is not so good.” Hoseok’s head lolled to lean against his shoulder as he looked at Jimin, nodding at his words. “So we’ve been thinking, maybe Y/N should stop house hunting for now? I mean, the exams are going to hit her soon, and who wants to move while having killer exams, right?”

“I could start hunting after the exams end,” You added in, ignoring the disapproving look Jimin gave you. He wanted that option to remain off the table unless Hoseok asks for it, in the hopes that you’ll never have to move away from him again.

You had to ask for your conscience though; Hoseok is stuck with a pair living next door as it was. You could keep your hands to yourself for so long, and that time passed a long time ago. Even after breaking you tried being quiet when having sex with Jimin, which was borderline torture and made Jimin work harder just to force you into making the noises that spared him on. Lying in your bed and listening to your best friend having sex with his girlfriend almost every night couldn’t be nice.

During exam seasons you’ll have a lot less sex, of course, which is why you felt a bit less guilty about dragging it out that far, but more than that will ensure the return of the current situation. Hoseok gets to choose if that’s what he wants, even if Jimin’s decision is set.

Hoseok lifted his head, looking from you to Jimin. You couldn’t decipher what he thought about your proposition, and from the look on Jimin’s face he was in the same darkness as you. Both you and your boyfriend waited for the third to say something, yet Hoseok seemed very content to drag this out. He finished the last of his drink, setting the glass down as he fingered the top of the glass.

“I thought about it actually, I was going to talk to Jiminnie about this,” Hoseok started, surprising both you and Jimin. You thought he’s probably burdened by it and just holding on because this situation will have some kind of a deadline. “It turned out I’ll talk to the both of you at once about it. I thought how happy Jiminnie is for having you here, and it changed the house a bit, sure, but it’s worth it,” Hoseok gave you a wide smile, but you didn’t miss the slight blush that tainted his cheeks. “Maybe you should just stay here, you know, for good. I like having you here too, and it’s very nice not being woken up by Jimin in the too early morning when he comes back from your place and needs to shower before class.”

You held your tongue from mentioning falling asleep later, only when Jimin and you are done in the room next door. If Hoseok thought about it before, he wasn’t pressured into it. You gave him a way out too, so you wanted to trust what he said.

Your words escaped you as you looked at Hoseok’s sparkling eyes as they looked back at you.

“Hyung, you’re the best!” Jimin dragged the hand of yours that he was holding until you moved across from him, catching what he wanted to do. Hoseok didn’t know where to look with the both of you coming closer from both sides and he chose to shut his eyes instead, clearly waiting for impact. Jimin pressed his lips in a kiss to Hoseok’s right cheek in the same time as you did to his left cheek, his face sandwiched between your shows of affection. You pulled back, giggling at the clear redness now taking over Hoseok’s face, his nervous laughter reaching your ears as he practically melted in his seat.

“Why are you attacking my heart like this!” He huffed and made the same high noises he makes whenever he’s flustered beyond knowing how to react.

Jimin and you couldn’t stop giggling at his reaction, you couldn’t even stop Hoseok from getting up and walking to his room, his entire face looking like it’s on fire with the tips of his ears clearly burning. “You guys are too much! I’m going to die in bed now!”

“Good night, hyung!” Jimin barely managed to shout between small takings of air to calm himself down.

You did the same, not bothering to say something too as the closing of Hoseok’s bedroom door sounded.

“I think we actually KO-ed him,” Jimin whipped at his eye as he pulled away from the table. “Let’s leave the dishes for hyung to do, we made dinner after all.” You were about to argue when Jimin’s hands landed on your hips and pulled you up. You lost balance form the sudden motion, falling into his chest – right where he wanted you.

“It’s the rules of the house, love,” Jimin squeezed your hips as he leaned down to catch your lips, which you didn’t fight. “Besides, we have some celebrating to do.”

You giggled as his hands dipped lower, taking your thighs to pull you up and wrap them around his hips. You wrapped your arms around him as well, rooting yourself in his arms. “Besides, someone’s been a naughty girl, saying things we chose not to say.”

“Saying things you chose not to say,” You replied teasingly, pecking his wrinkled nose. “Besides, maybe someone wants to get punished.”

Jimin groaned and you knew that sound so well, he couldn’t help but to make it whenever he got turned on by the simple words you throw his way. “Well baby, we have all night.”

When the pressure of exams season actually hit you, you felt like kissing Jimin and Hoseok’s feet for taking the apartment hunting off of your hands. You were drowning in one exam after the other – you even took two different exams on the same day and it took every bit of will power not to pull your hair out from the roots.

Even when you tried taking time to calm down and maybe feel like a human again, the frenzy around you came from every direction in the form of students stressed out of their mind. Said frenzy was so contagious you felt like your lungs took in smoke instead of clear air.

The worst part was Jimin received a dancing bit that he could only hope to get. It was kind of important – he told you about it when your brain was too busy flipping out about stopping your studies marathon to eat. You were right about you and Jimin not having sex during exam season, but you didn’t know how bad it’ll be. You weren’t sure your boyfriend existed anymore – the only indication would be the traces of his perfume on his pillow, and maybe a heap of clothes once every few days. You tidied his clothes back to how they were before he threw them on the floor every time, hoping that it’ll make him feel a little better.

Luckily, Hoseok was there for you. Since Jimin got the important dance bit, and Hoseok worked very hard before the season hit, he was around more then you were. He cooked for you sometimes – it was only ramen but the thought is what counted – and he even offered to rub your shoulders for you when you came home looking like death itself.

He was perfect boyfriend material when your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

You held on and exam season was getting close to ending, two more tests and you’re done. You haven’t seen the outside of your room for the last twelve hours and felt like that dog they pulled out of tar and –

“Y/N,” Hoseok leaned against the frame of your bedroom door, wearing casual clothes that were clean, unlike yours. “Jimin asked me to check on you, force you out of your room and continue the tradition of movie night to keep you sane.”

“I can’t believe he’s alive,” You barely looked at him as a sigh came from the deepest, most desperate spot inside of you. Now that you took a second’s break from obsessively reading, you felt just how bad your eyes were burning.

You rubbed them, relying on your ears to warn you of Hoseok’s nearing steps. His hands closed around your wrists to pull them away from your eyes. You looked up at his gentle smile, and against all odds you could feel a bit of hope thanks to it.

“Take a shower, I’ll choose a light movie for us to watch.” His hands rubbed your shoulders lightly as he spoke, and you relaxed to the touch without even thinking about it.

You made a mental note to thank Jimin for thinking about your traditional movie night even when he was too busy to function. Honestly, you couldn’t think of a better way to end this day then to cuddle up to a warm body, watch a funny movie until you felt sleepy enough to fall asleep like a normal person.

Your warm shower woke you up enough before you stepped out, pulling on one of Jimin’s sweatshirts. If he couldn’t physically be here, the least you can do is keep something that smelled like him with you.

When you entered the kitchen you found Hoseok on his phone, two bottles of beer and a popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of him. The television was paused on the beginning of the movie he chose – you already watched it with Jimin but knowing you won’t be missing out on it made you feel better somehow.

Hoseok’s eyes lifted to you when you entered, and he immediately put it away, lifting the blanket draped on his lap to allow you to crawl in. You took the spot he offered immediately, sitting with enough space between you to let him choose if he wants you closer or not. After unpausing the movie Hoseok’s arm settled on the couch above you, so you stayed where you are, eyes trained on the movie.

“You can come closer if you want,” he informed you as he leaned forward to grab the beers, handing you one with a smile. “Jimin told me you like watching movies while cuddled, and I happen to like it too. It’s cool.”

You chuckled and nodded, already moving to fit against Hoseok’s side. His arm remained on the back of the couch, but he sat a little straighter, the perfect height for you to lean your head against his shoulder.

You barely spoke during the movie, and Hoseok seemed deeply invested in it. You watched him right before the first plot twist came, taking absolute joy from the dramatic shift of his features. Jimin told you once that Hoseok is a great person to watch movies with, he always gets super invested and his reactions are gold. Now when you had an opportunity to see it for yourself, you were definitely not disappointed.

Even though you were enjoying the movie and Hoseok’s presence greatly, you could feel the stress from the past week catching up to you not too long into the movie. You struggled to keep your eyes open and to your surprise, Hoseok payed enough attention to you to see how sleepy you were getting.

His hand reached for the back of your head, settling it against his shoulder and away from the television so the light won’t bother you. A yarn big enough to swallow the boy you were leaning against took every option you had to argue with him. You had no other choice but to give in, and it wasn’t a bad option to begin with.

“Is it okay if I napped on you?”

Hoseok chuckled lowly, “That’s the plan, of course it’s okay.”

You nodded as you settled into his shoulder. You tried to not tangle yourself in him like you were used to doing with Jimin out of respect, but you weren’t rooted in a way that will actually let your body relax enough to fall asleep. Hoseok’s arm slid off of the back of the couch to wrap around your body – he must have felt you weren’t comfortable yet.

With your eyes closed and choice made, you lifted your legs enough to settle them between Hoseok’s shins with your knees between his thighs. You extended your arm to wrap around his waist, and when your fingers fell on a patch of exposed skin, you didn’t pull away. Now Hoseok was warm and comfortable enough to even though his body stiffened since you moved, it was just what you needed.

The next thing you felt is a shake to your shoulder, and when you opened your eyes you noticed the room was dark. The movie must have ended while you were napping. Hoseok’s body was very stiff now, and you pulled back from him immediately, thinking he must not be used to someone leaning their entire weight on him for a prolonged amount of time.

“G-Go to bed,” Hoseok said with a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

You were too sleepy to question anything about his behavior, including his hasty getaway from the living room. You rose to your feet and stretched, choosing to leave the mess and deal with it tomorrow after one look at your coffee table.

You made your way with heavy steps to your room, hands rubbing your eyes. They still burned, and you guessed nothing but a good night’s sleep could take that burn away. You threw yourself down on your bed and it felt like absolute paradise, even with Jimin missing from it. You really need to thank Hoseok in the morning for giving you just the break you needed.

You almost fell asleep when a muffled moan grabbed your attention. It took you a few moments to realize the reason it snapped you into a more awaken state was because it sounded vaguely like your name. You left your bedroom door opened and given the fact the only ones in the apartment right now are you and Hoseok – the source wasn’t hard to guess. You stared at your ceiling as you listened to the surroundings, catching a few more moans. They were growing closer to each other and higher with pitch as you listened, your body reacting to the noises naturally.

The moans stopped abruptly and you thought he came already, until a whimper sliced through the silence, much louder than the other noises he made so far.

Fuck.

You shut your eyes tightly and crossed your legs, willing the horniness to go away. You have no time or energy to deal with yourself or the amount of attraction swimming through you after listening to Hoseok touching himself. It also made his reaction to you waking up make a lot of sense – he probably got hard from how you were holding him.

Jimin once told you his favorite part about sleeping next to you is what he called “curious hands”. He said your fingers move freely across warm skin and when the situation you were in with Hoseok felt so regular for you and Jimin – you had to excite him while you were sleeping.

And that’s just fucking great.

Things between you and Hoseok has been… Awkward.

Well, more precisely, things from your end were awkward. Hoseok still greeted you with the same bright smile, still hugged you when you came back from cramming in the library for hours, and still came into your room with a fresh cup of coffee. It’s you who treated all of this with suspicion.

You couldn’t even point at a reason for you to feel weird about him, you just heard him masturbating while thinking about you after you cuddled to watch a movie. When you started dating Jimin it happened a few times before you slept together, and it was never this weird. Not even when the first time it happened was before you even started dating.

But something about your boyfriend’s best friend who’s clearly holding blossoming feelings towards said boyfriend masturbating on you just seemed – weird. You would probably feel less weird about it when you could tell Jimin and feel like it’s less intimate than it is now, but your damn boyfriend failed to pick up his phone or reply to texts in reasonable hours, when the thoughts in your head still made sense.

You wondered if Hoseok could feel the weird aura around you and him.

He never once looked like he knew you heard him that night. It’s been barely a week and not even once did you suspect he’s trying to mask embarrassment from it. Hoseok usually wore his feelings on his sleeve even if he tried very hard not to.

“Y/N,” His voice and a warm hand landing on your bare shoulder made you jump slightly. He gave you a calm smile, but didn’t remove his hand from you. “I’m going out with friends. You’ll be alright alone?” You nodded, feeling yourself blinking too much at the eye contact. “Good. Remember to take breaks and not go to sleep too late, it’s the last test and you’ve been through a lot. You need rest too.”

“Thanks, Hoseok.” He turned from you and you went back to your studies just to feel an unexpected pack on your head.

“Study hard,” Hoseok threw as he turned away, closing your bedroom door behind him.

Now, that’s new. Only Jimin kissed your head before he left, it’s a boyfriend thing to do, right? You glanced at your phone, knowing Jimin already has two awaiting messages from a lot earlier that day. You could bring it up when you find time to talk, you decided and went back to your studies.

Truthfully Hoseok was right, your brain did need rest. This has been one of the hardest exam seasons you’ve had so far, and there was a clear limit to how much you can cram into your head before the test. You already gave this subject two full days of constant studying, you knew this material by heart.

You crawled into bed, taking comfort in its softness. You turned and buried your face in Jimin’s pillow, taking the scent you missed so much into your lungs. You missed kissing him and hugging him and spending time by his side. Jimin had such an impact on your life, and being without him felt like something is constantly missing. Because every day of cramming for tests left you so tired you felt like a log by the end of it, you couldn’t even feel his arms around you when you slept, so you didn’t even know if he actually slept by your side all of this time.

If you had a smidge of a reason to suspect his loyalty, you’d be deep into a problem right now. Thankfully, Jimin and you were always open and talked about everything, so you had complete faith in him.

Your eyes closed as you stayed like that, taking Jimin’s scent in and relaxing into what will be one of the last stressed night for this season. Unlike the other nights, your sleep was light enough to still feel when strong arms wrapped around you. You also felt warm, moist lips kissing a trail from the base of your neck to just behind your ear, before a nose nuzzled into your skin. You sighed and moved back to fit your entire body against the one behind you, lacing your fingers through his own.

Something was off, but admittedly – you didn’t care enough to check. The legs behind yours felt a little longer then Jimin’s, and the fingers too, the chest a bit wider in the built. The arm, as a strange contras, felt less muscly then it usually is. You haven’t seen Jimin long enough to erase those thoughts away, choosing to take plain joy in the affection you’ve been craving for so long.

“Y/N.”

Now that you couldn’t ignore. You’ve heard Jimin’s voice in every way possible, and this was definitely not it. You pushed your hips forward, enough to allow your body to rotate inside of cage of arms around you. The action made you come face to face with a very, very drunk Hoseok. You could see it in the blush on his face, the watery look in his barely open eyes, and the smell of whiskey hiding behind minty toothbrush.

You blinked at him, taking in this cute look. Hoseok never allowed himself to get this wasted around you before, mainly because he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of his best friend’s girlfriend. It had to arrive at some point now that you were living with them, thought.

Hoseok’s eyes were closing clearly against his will, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “Goodnight.”

You placed your hands on his chest, clearing your throat from the sleep still clinging to your cords. “This isn’t your bed, Hoseok.” The man mumbled something and pulled you closer to his chest. Hoseok smelled nice, and his pajamas pleasant against your skin. You were sleepy enough to consider letting this go and just falling asleep like this, just another thing to add to the things you needed to tell Jimin when he finally shows up.

You had to make minimum effort, though. “Don’t you want to go to your own bed?” You asked, your eyes already closed and your body growing heavy.

“Nope. You’re warm.”

His arm wrapped around the length of your body, fingers pressing lightly into the back of your neck and his nose resting against your forehead. This feels nice and you tried, you’re too tired to keep on trying to convince a grown, drunk man to go to his own bed. Plus, you were sure nothing will happen, you got to share a bed with Hoseok and Jimin before, you knew Hoseok would never dare to touch you in an inappropriate way even if Jimin won’t be there.

So you threw your arm around his body and settled in, it’s going to be a very pleasant night.

It was slightly less pleasant to wake up to Jimin laughing a little too loudly, a little too close to you.

Hearing his laughter after so long felt amazing, but you really wanted to just wake up to his kisses and cuddles and everything that feels nice. You didn’t really have a disturbing noise that shook you from the comfortable sleep in mind.

“Jimin,” You whined his name, blindly reaching two hands to make grabby hands motions at him.

The weight of his body joined you immediately, his laughter turning into cute chuckles that made your heart swell. You honestly don’t know just how much you miss somebody until you see and hear them for yourself. Jimin crawled under the blanket to join you, fitting his body to yours swiftly to take you into his arms. Quick pecks pressed all around your face, making you join him in his playful giggles.

Finally his lips reached yours, placing longer kisses which you returned. “I missed you like a mad man,” Jimin said against your lips, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist.

You mimicked the action with your other leg, dragging him to rest fully on top of you between your legs. “I missed you like a mad woman.”

“That’s why we fit each other so well!”

You laced your fingers through his hair, pulling him away from you to look at him. His face was puffy – he must have woken up himself less than an hour ago, which probably means he slept at home.

Which could mean he saw Hoseok sleeping right next to you, cuddling you as close as he possibly could before you got to tell him anything that happened. He didn’t seem the least bit worried, though, not when his eyes sparkled at you like that.

“What made you laugh so much?” You asked him as you ran his fingers through his bangs, drawing them away from his face.

A lazy smile spread of his lips, “Hobi’s expression when he woke up with his face in your neck and me standing over the two of you.”

You paused, torn between wanting to laugh because his face must have been priceless, and fearing what Jimin really thought about what he described. His eyes were closed and his tone normal, like nothing’s wrong.

“Relax, babe,” Jimin leaned in to give you a slow, calm kiss. “I’m good with it. You did nothing wrong.”

“It’s not the only thing.”

That caused Jimin to open his eyes and look at you. His gaze held nothing but curiosity, and you started relaxing more like he asked. You bumped your nose against his, stilling your arms when they wrapped around his shoulder. Less afraid now, you spoke in a low voice, “During the movie night you asked Hoseok to do instead of you, I think he had a boner over me. I might have heard him moaning my name when he came back to his room.”

“He probably ran back to his room, huh,” Jimin chuckled, his hands moving to frame your face. “I remember not being able to wait until I could release myself after being so close to you when we started out. Besides, it’s about time.”

“About time?” You repeated, confusion frowning your eyebrows.

“It’s not the first time he had a boner over you,” Jimin said, clearly amused by the weird scenario of his best friend having sexual feelings towards his girlfriend. “It’s the first time he did something about it, though. Hoseok cannot be quiet when he visualizes someone he knows when he’s jacking one off.”

You stared at your boyfriend at a complete loss of words. You thought of a few scenarios that could occur with this conversation, but none of them came even close to the reality.

Jimin rubbed his thumb across your cheek before stretching his body to kiss your forehead. “I’ll explain later, okay? Right now Hoseok’s making us guilty pancakes, and his guilty pancakes are the best pancakes in the world. Get up, sunshine!”

With that, he pulled away from the cage of your legs and made his way in quick steps out of the room. You could smell the pancakes in the air, and it did smell like pretty good pancake but the confusion you felt was bigger than your craving for pancakes.

Your stomach growled, reminding you that you didn’t give it anything last night too. Maybe your craving for pancakes could suspend your conversation with Jimin after all.

Breakfast was less awkward then what you’d expect. Hoseok made sure to never make eye contact with you, and he paid special attention to Jimin in the form of compliments and mountains of pancakes.

Your boyfriend sat there like a pleased king, throwing arrogant smiles at both you and Hoseok. You felt like punching him honestly, missing him being long forgotten when both you and Hoseok were in the dark and he seemed like the only one who’s in the light.

Before you could shove the last of your breakfast in, Jimin was already up and gone. Hoseok picked up everything he could wash if it means he won’t sit at the same table as you, taking it over to the sink to begin his work. You watched his turned back, your nose wrinkling with dislike at how you’re being treated by the both of them.

You’ll corner Jimin the second you’ll enter the room you shared, but catching Hoseok will be a little harder and this seemed like the best opportunity. “Hobi,” You walked behind him before speaking his name, touching a shoulder that became tense under your fingertips in the matter of seconds. “Listen, you don’t need to feel bad about this, alright? I slept amazingly peacefully for the first time in a while, and you were pretty comfortable too. I’m not angry at all, I’m thankful. Okay?”

Hoseok’s eyes finally peaked at you from above the shoulder you were touching. “Really?”

“Really,” You confirmed, wrapping an arm around his middle to hug his body from behind. You could feel him relaxing against you, the only noise in the room being the running water from the tap.

You pulled away quickly enough, earning a thank you from Hoseok for taking the time to help him feel better about last night. You gave his shoulder a squeeze before you turned to your other task – understanding what the hell is going through Park Jimin’s head.

You swiftly made your way to your bedroom, only to find him empty. The sound of near running water hinted at you where your boyfriend is, and you stood in the doorway of your connected bathroom to watch him move his hand in the water of the bath he was drawing.

“I thought we could take a shower together,” He noted when he heard you coming up behind him. “You know, to have a safe space to speak into.”

A smile crossed your face at his thoughtfulness. Maybe the way he was acting while you were eating was there just to give him enough confidence to have this talk. You slipped inside, shutting and twisting the lock on the door behind you. “Nice thinking.”

You watched him rise, stopping the flow of the water into the now full tub. You took off your clothes while watching Jimin take off his own and he did the same, the time you were apart clearly affecting both of you. You didn’t make a move with the consideration of the words hanging above you and Jimin seemed to think the same as he sank into the warm water, lifting a hand to help you in as well.

You stepped inside with his help, feeling his palms running across your skin as you lowered yourself to sit between his legs. His touch wasn’t there to light a fire in you, it came as a comfort and affection that you needed. You leaned back against his chest and his palms settled on your thighs, fingers rubbing through your skin.

“How have you been, baby?” You heard his voice near your ear, calming you with the familiarity of it.

“Busy,” You answer as you trace the hidden veins on his arms with your fingertips. “And missing you.”

“I missed you too,” The response came immediately from Jimin along with the press of his nose into your neck. You tilted your head the other way to give him the space he needed to place warm kisses along your neck.

You remained quiet, enjoying Jimin’s touch as you waited for him to get to the point. You were dating Jimin long enough to know pressuring him into speaking about something that makes him insecure is never the right way to go. He needs to face safe enough to share, and you had to have the patience. You need to wait until he’s ready as you ready yourself.

When he finally spoke, his voice was smaller than before, “I knew it’ll get like that between you and Hoseok when I’ll be gone.”

You tilted your head to touch your forehead to his cheek, silently listening to him. “I mean, I hoped I wasn’t wrong at least. The thing is, when Hoseok and I lived alone here, it was like that between us too. I never told you because I knew I’m loyal to you and it’ll never progress, and Hoseok will never do anything to jeopardize our relationship and happiness.”

You felt Jimin’s hands slowing on your thighs, making you look back at him in search of a reason. You were surprised to find a borderline fearful look on your boyfriend’s face. You turned in his arms without a second thought, hands rising to cup his face and hold it steady as you pressed a few kisses against his lips, “It’s okay. Continue.”

Jimin’s hands moved to your back, drawing you closer until your face was in his neck. He probably needed your approval of the way he lived without telling you just like you needed his approval for everything that happened while he was too busy to be around.

“You know Hoseok has feelings for me, right?” You nodded against his skin, beginning to draw blind shapes on the skin of his shoulder. “I knew for a long time too. The thing is, he was always so scared of ruining our relationship, I started thinking it was for the best to leave it unspoken. We would still do soft couple stuff sometimes, and we both enjoy it without feeling guilty. The farthest we’ve gone is one drunk make out session that ended with Hoseok being too affected to ever talk about it properly before. Then, you came along,” Jimin paused to give your neck a small, appreciative kiss. “And I fell so in love, but the stuff I did with Hoseok never felt wrong, not for a second. I didn’t know how you’d feel about it so I never told you. When you moved here, though, I was hoping.”

“That I’d feel the same about Hoseok as you do?” You spoke against your better judgement, feeling Jimin shifting uncomfortably beneath you. You might have just put him on the spot without revealing your own position. The reason was you didn’t know what your position was to give it to him. “Tell me, baby.”

The nickname was enough to have Jimin speak again, even if his body didn’t quite relax yet. “I was hoping, I wanted to not stop being able to touch Hoseok. And with everything that happened since you moved here… You frustrated him quite a lot, babe.”

You lifted your head at his words, “What do you mean?”

Jimin chuckled, “You didn’t notice how much Hoseok is attracted to you? He usually tries looking at you only when you won’t notice, but his eyes were so hungry sometimes I was sure you’d feel it.”

“Hosoek looked at me like that?”

“Just how he looks at me,” Jimin nodded and you could see his eyes were still a little tight with the will to share, so you laid your head on his chest against and patted it to make sure he knows you’re listening.

“I want you, Y/N, and I always will. The thing is, I want Hoseok too,” Jimin lowered his head to rest it against yours, arms tightening around you. “And only if you’ll want to date him too, I thought… Maybe he could become a part of us.”

Finally, Jimin let his thoughts through in the cleanest way he knows, and you were with him in the light of things. You could feel he wanted something, maybe it was those nights he insisted on Hoseok joining sometimes, the mornings Hoseok would wake up purely happy and jump on you and Jimin who were still sleeping, the opening he left Hoseok into your relationship time and time again.

You never closed that opening because you never wanted to. You were the one who never thought about Hoseok that way, but you did treat him that way, unconsciously. The time where Jimin was gone confirmed that, no domestic action between you and Hoseok made you want to stop it from happening. All you ever looked for were answers.

Now you had them.

“What do we do then?”

Jimin hummed, his tone light and you knew he was relieved without him having to say it, “I’ve been thinking about it during breakfast. Maybe you and Hoseok could go on a date or something, we don’t have to tell him yet what we’re trying to test to not put pressure on it. If you’d want to continue, we’ll let him in the loop and see what he says. If not, we’ll let this go and I’ll do what you tell me to do.”

“I don’t want you to go against your heart, Jimin,” You looked into his eyes to find nothing but love for you.

His hands framed your face as he leaned in to kiss you, pouring sincerity into the simple touch. “You are my heart. Hoseok is my best friend, and things could stay as they are until the end of time.”

You nodded with a smile, finally reassured enough to think clearly about what’s to come.

“Did you think about your date with Hoseok yet?” Jimin threw himself besides you like you’re not in the living room and the man he’s talking about is in the kitchen, way too close for comfort.

You turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, resting the book you invested yourself in for the last hour on top of your thighs, “No.”

“I think you should go to a dance bar,” Jimin moved closer, eyes teasing.

“Did somebody say a dance bar?”

You’re not proud to admit you jumped when you heard Hoseok’s voice. He just rounded the corner, phone in hand but his attention was on both you and Jimin. While you tensed at the exposure, Jimin just seemed more excited now that Hoseok was in the same conversation.

“Y/N said she wanted to go, but I’m drained,” Jimin’s pout clearly bought Hoseok without the older even blinking. “Want to take her out tonight?”

Hoseok sat on your other side, his arm finding place on the couch behind you immediately. You learned this is just how he likes sitting and even with that knowledge, you felt a flutter in your stomach. “You’re alright with it?”

“Of course, if it’s you I’ll never mind.”

You looked between both men, watching something intimate passing between them. You had no idea what those looks meant, and you knew they don’t need more than that to understand what the other was trying to say. Sometimes you had that with Jimin, and deepening that bond with Hoseok too seemed like a really nice concept.

Hoseok’s gaze moved to you as he directed a bright smile at you, “I’ll take you dancing then. You should wear comfortable shoes, I’m known for never losing stamina.”

The specific choice of words made you swallow your spit thickly with Jimin’s laughter echoing from behind you.

Hoseok lifted himself off of the couch and completed his journey to his room. You punched Jimin’s arm the moment you believed Hoseok was out of hearing range, repeating the action a few times until your boyfriend slid off of the couch and onto the floor. “What the fuck, Jimin? What happened to me taking him out?”

Jimin directed a pout at you with a hand holding the part of his arm where you punched him, but the action was a lot less affective on you, “You’re still taking him out!”

“Did you ever think that going out to dance is your ideal date because you’re a dancer?” That made Jimin bite his lip from spreading a smile with the realization of your words. “Now I’m going to make a fool out of myself!”

“I’ve seen you dance, babe, you’re pretty good,” Jimin replied defensively and you groaned, pulling your knees up to hide your face in them. “Babe,” Jimin’s hand laced through your hair – the bastard knew just how to melt you down. “You’ll do amazing. Believe me, Hoseok can make anyone’s dancing look good, he just draws all of the attention.”

“It’s his attention I want, though.”

“Aw,” Jimin kissed your head, moving his arms to wrap around you and pull you onto his chest, “You’d still look great. We’ll make sure you’re hot enough to melt Hoseok’s pants again.”

Jimin was definitely not kidding.

He insisted of choosing the dress you’ll wear to your date with Hoseok, and the one he chose absolutely scandalized you. It was that one dress you bought on a daring moment, and you were supposed to wear it on a night Jimin took you out dancing, but the moment he saw you in it the only thing he wanted to do was take it off of you.

And Jimin is a dancer at heart, so that says a lot.

Even now he looked awfully tempted to cancel on Hoseok just so he could make you scream all night, but every time his hands made contact with the skin on your waist you swatted then away. You knew him far too well to know where this is going.

A knock came from your door just when you were applying the last of your makeup and Jimin hurried to open it, getting between Hoseok and the sight of you so his friend could only see you when you’re done.

“Wow, man,” Jimin’s amused voice came from behind you, accompanied by Hoseok’s light laughter. “You’re not just dressing to impress here, you’re dressing to straight out steal my girl!”

You almost banged your head against the table. For someone who wants to comfortably bring another party into your relationship, he sure is making it awfully alarming.

“I-I just – ” Hoseok’s reaction was exactly what you thought it’d be and you got up to take the reins from Jimin before your date with Hoseok will be too awkward to recover.

Your appearance behind Jimin made a noticeable impact, with the way Hoseok’s jaw slacked immediately. You almost had the same reaction when your eyes landed on his own outfit – a well fitted shirt that clung to his hard-earned muscles and black, holed skinny jeans.

Like he knew black skinny jeans were your weak spot.

“I don’t envy anyone who will try to compete on looks with the both of you,” Jimin slipped an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead shortly before stepping back. “Have fun for me too!”

“We will,” you grabbed Hoseok’s arm and waved above your shoulder, leaving your boyfriend behind.

Hoseok was quiet on the way to the club he chose for tonight, but you did catch his eyes drifting repeatedly towards your figure. You knew just how much this dress amplified everything your body had to offer, and the fact that Hoseok seemed so interested in you made you feel a lot sexier in it.

When you finally reached the club, Hoseok held your shoulder to make sure you won’t drift away from him. The club itself was a blur, it was hot and Hoseok was so, so close, always touching you in one way or the other. You felt other hands coming in contact with your body, but Hoseok always made sure to move you just right to severe any touch that wasn’t his.

You could also see what Jimin meant when he said Hoseok grabs all the attention when he dances. The dancers surrounding you couldn’t keep their eyes off of him, with his fluid, attractive movements. His smile radiated with his pure love to moving his body so freely, and his overall vibe was contagious.

His own attention, though, was undividedly yours. His eyes, hands, hips, his focus was on you and you felt like this spotlight was tailored fit for you to fit right into. You really only had this much fun dancing when you were out with Jimin well into your relationship, with love floating between you and absolutely nothing to hide or be ashamed of.

This feeling just helped you feel stronger towards wanting to try Hoseok out. It might work amazingly between the three of you, and you knew Jimin already had his heart laid on the option. You might just make both Jimin and you happy with this one, amazing stone.

A specific slam of hips made you awfully aware of how being close to you affected Hoseok. He was straining hard in his pants, by his expression you thought he might be too lost in the overall sensation to notice himself yet.

You slipped your arms around his waist, taking the opportunity to pull him close. Hoseok gave you a smile that stilled very quickly when he could feel your stomach brushing firmly against his crotch. You felt a small movement – the fabric of your dress too thick to be sure if he actually rutted his hips against you or not.

His eyes widened and his hand came out to grab your shoulder and put some space between your hips and his own. You could see his lips moving – probably words asking for forgiveness slipping past his lips – but they were lost in the loud music and left you confused as to why he pulled away so suddenly. He must know you’ve noticed and you made sure not to have any sort of negative looking reaction, so why was he having one?

His hand closed around yours and then he was leading you away from your space on the dance floor. You saw a few wondering gazes looking longingly after him, obviously too enchanted by his dancing to ever want him to go.

You squeezed Hoseok’s hand in your own but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at you until you were almost at his car.

“Hoseok, why are we leaving?” You asked, moving through the door he held open for you. His entire face was beat red, and you could see one hand hovering around his crotch, probably in an attempt to hide the sight away from you.

Before he answered he closed your door, walking around the hood of the car to get to his own door. He slipped into his own seat, bringing the car to life, “It’s past midnight. We have classes tomorrow.”

You noticed Hoseok’s tone was cut, his words sounding just like the forced excuse that they were. “Really? You left the club so fast to keep me from being sleepy tomorrow?”

Hoseok nodded, eyes focused on the road as he made his familiar way back to your apartment. “Not because you’re hard?” You tried again, watching how fast your words affected him with the harsh pull of his lip between his teeth. “Hoseok,” You placed your hand on top of his, “It’s cool. Dancing does that.”

“You’re Jimin’s girlfriend, it’s not cool,” He threw out, stepping on the paddle just a little harder to get this conversation to end that much sooner.

“You think Jimin would’ve let me wear this dress if he’d be mad at something like that?” You chuckled with your words, but Hoseok didn’t find it funny.

“Look, I’ll just bring you back, okay? No need to discuss this, we can forget it happened.”

“Like you forgot making out with Jimin?” Hoseok’s foot slammed a little too hard on the brakes, your body moving with the force of the sudden movement.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Hoseok’s hand landed on your shoulders, helping you straighten in your seat so he could look at your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” You gave him a faint smile, feeling your heart beating too fast against your ribs. “Maybe I shouldn’t say stuff like that when you’re driving.”

“You shouldn’t,” Hoseok agreed, hands slipping softly from your shoulders to grab the wheel. The car started moving again, slower this time, but you couldn’t find the words to keep talking to him.

One look at his clearly stressed out face helped you made the decision to leave this alone for now. You still need to talk to Jimin and maybe Hoseok will be more compliant to listen when the both of you are right in front of him and he knows he’s not doing anything dirty behind anyone’s back.

You still made sure to hold Hoseok’s hand from the moment you exited the car. Hoseok didn’t try to pull away from you, and his body even gravitated towards your own as you waited for the elevator to arrive. He didn’t try speaking to you or clearing up his action, and you allowed the silence to continue as long as his hand was in your own and his body willingly close.

His shoulders became a little less tense as he held the apartment door open for you, the warm feeling of being home taking it’s tool. You thanked him and walked straight to your room, not looking back to let him have that peace for just a little longer.

Jimin was sprawled on his back, blanket messy around his body and sound asleep. You speeded through your night routine, wanting nothing more than to have your boyfriend’s familiar arms around you, holding you close and precious to his heart. Tomorrow, you could talk about it.

You were woken up just the way you like it – with Jimin’s thick lips leaving a trail of wet kisses along your neck. He finally reached the edge of your jaw, leaving small packs before he reached your cheeks.

You stretched your arms to fit around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you contently sighed at his welcomed weight on top of you.

“Morning, baby,” He greeted you, lips still against your skin. “How was your date?”

Memories from last night flooded in, and you whimpered softly before fitting a pout beneath Jimin’s lips, “It started good, but I think I scared Hoseok off.”

“From experience, that’s not a hard thing to do,” Jimin chuckled, pulling back to look at you. He looked absolutely divine, even with his face still puffed from sleep and his eyes droopy. “He got a boner, didn’t he?”

“Yup.” You nodded as you felt Jimin pecking your pout again. “And I tried talking to him about it, and may have mentioned your make out session too.”

“Woah,” Jimin pulled back, throwing himself besides you. You immediately cuddled up to him, looking up at his impressed expression. “I assume he didn’t take it well, he can’t handle being put on the spot.”

“Jimin,” His puffy eyes glanced at you to catch your smile. “I think I want this too. I want Hoseok to feel comfortable with stuff like last night, and even more than that. I want you to be in this too.”

The joy that spread on Jimin’s face reminded you of the expression he wore when you finally agreed to go on a date with him. His arms pulled you higher on his chest, until you were close enough to touch your forehead to his own.

“Are you sure, baby?”

“Positive,” You giggled, placing both of your hands on his bare chest.

“So how about we make him dinner again,” Jimin suggested, hand slipping to move his fingers against the back of your head. “And ask him to date us when he’s full and relaxed?”

You kissed Jimin’s lips, “Sounds like a plan.”

The scene of you and Jimin making dinner with Hoseok in mind was pleasantly familiar. You were once again in charge of his favorite beverage while Jimin tried pretty hard to make the dish he wanted to present to Hoseok. You helped Jimin, finding him more serious about food making than ever before – it meant a lot to him.

The first obstacle of this dinner was removed the moment Hoseok agreed to be in the same dinner table as both you and Jimin, an occurrence that failed to happen since you returned from the club. You let being ignored by him slide so far, knowing it’s only until you’ll pull him into the conversation that would set everything straight.

You heard the door close and your eyes immediately moved to Jimin’s face – it’s finally time. Hoseok made his way into the kitchen, picking a light conversation with Jimin over the outcome of their competition. You handed him the Sprite glass with a smile, barely resisting the urge to run your fingers through his freshly washed hair.

Hopefully, you wouldn’t have to hesitate soon enough.

You helped set the table as Jimin brought out the food. The pressure on both you and your boyfriend showed in how slowly you consumed your food, while Hoseok happily ate between you. You could catch wondering looks coming from him, but the conversation still flowed so he seemed to let it go.

All you waited for was a sign that Jimin is finally ready to tackle this.

“Hyung, we have something to talk to you about, actually.”

You raised your eyebrows at Jimin’s sudden outburst. Hoseok seemed just as taken aback as he sat his chopsticks down on his plate. “What is it?”

Jimin glanced at you, and you gave him the most encouraging smile you could master. The words need to come from him, after so many years of them hanging unsaid above him and Hoseok. Something in Hoseok’s eyes made you feel stronger about that.

“Remember when I asked you to take Y/N to that club?” Hoseok nodded a bit robotically. “That was actually a way for Y/N and me to test something. The thing is, even though you asked me to I couldn’t forget our kiss. I couldn’t forget our other touches either, but you seemed so uncomfortable, I thought its better left alone. Then I met Y/N and I thought it won’t matter.”

“It doesn’t,” Hoseok was quick to stop Jimin’s rambling, rising panic clear in his tone.

You contemplated rather you should hold Hoseok’s hand in yours as Jimin continued through the interruption, “But it does. I see the way you look at Y/N, the way you act towards her, it’s the same as it is with me.” Hoseok opened his mouth again, but this time Jimin was faster to raise his hand to stop him. “I like it. Y/N likes it too.”

With the mention of your feelings you chose to move, your fingers brushing along the back of Hoseok’s hands until you took hold of it. Hoseok’s eyes looked at you, guilty and unsure of where this conversation is going after he ignored it for so long. Maybe even too long to understand this is actually a possibility.

“We want you, Hoseok,” You filled in, watching as Hoseok’s eyes widened at your words.

“W-Want?” Hoseok leaned back in his chair, away from the two of you but his hand never pulled from yours. Jimin took it as a positive sign, choosing to hold his other hand in his own.

“We want you to be our boyfriend,” He cleared, lifting Hoseok’s hand to press a kiss to slightly shaking knuckles.

Hoseok’s face was painted red faster than you thought to be humanly possible, different emotions merging across his features to show just how shocking this was to him.

You wanted to say something, anything to make him fear your words less, but you weren’t sure what would be the best thing to do in that moment. You looked at Jimin and for the first time since you got to know the both of them – he seemed as speechless as you.

“Hoseok,” You took the red faced man’s attention with a squeeze to his hand. “We don’t mean to pressure you. You don’t have to answer us right now either, we’ve talked about giving you time – ”

“I don’t need it,” You could spot tears peaking from the corners of his eyes, but a smile spread on his face to counter it. “I want you too.”

Your body moved before you could realize it, arms wrapping around Hoseok who let out a shaky laugh. Jimin’s arms soon joined your own, a kiss pressing to your head before he did the same to Hoseok’s head.

“I can’t believe this is really happening, I was sure I’m going to pass away from old age before I’ll get to see you naked.”

"Jimin!” You groaned, flicking his head as Hoseok laughed between you.

“You saw me naked before, bro. It’s the touch thing that changes.”

“I can’t believe you two,” You tried pulling away from them, but two sets of arms kept you right where you are.

#poly!bts #bts scenarios #jhope scenarios #jimin scenarios #bangtan bookclub #jihope

[onehaleofanadventure]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage Category: M/M Fandoms: Red Hood and the Outlaws, Red Robin, DC Comics Relationship: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Summary:  Popsicles and beach bonfires don't really mix. Some people enjoy the resulting mess more than others.

Some days, Tim wishes he was a Wayne, he stays with them enough since his parents are always gone. The maid at Drake Manor isn’t bad or anything, but she is definitely no Alfred.

Ever since his parents found out about Bruce adopting Dick, and then Jason, they asked him to keep an eye on Tim while they were gone. It was weird at first, with Dick being five years older, but they ended up being really close. Then Jay came along. And well, they’re close. Just in a… different way.

Tim being close to the Wayne’s is how he ended up here. On the beach. At night. Crowding with a bunch of people he doesn’t know or like. Around a bonfire. In August. Come on Dick, it’s too hot for that!

However, Dick is happy with this fiasco, so everyone else is happy. Well, mostly. Jay is kind of annoyed, complaining about Dick being every end-of-summer movie cliché ever; after Tim shows Jay the cooler with the secret stash of—made from real-fruit, thanks Alf!—popsicles Tim brought, he is in a much better mood.

The popsicles, though, they are the real problem here.

---

Jason hates marshmallow. Hates them. They too sweet. And sticky and messy. And basically just fluffed up sugar. Zero nutritional value. No one should be allowed to eat them, no one!

Dick, on the other hand, loves marshmallows. Also, because he is completely cliché in everything, he demands that everyone eat smores at his graduating/last-harrah beach bonfire—it’s a campfire Jason—shindig.

So when Tim silently nudges a cooler closer to him, he’s not really interested. That is, until Tim opens said cooler and digs out one of Alfred’s famous real-fruit Strawberry and Banana popsicles. After that, he’s pretty much ready to kiss Tim.

Not that Tim would let him. Tim isn’t ready for the whole coming out thing. As in, coming out that he’s dating Jason. Everyone already knows that Tim is hella bisexual.

---

Tim has regrets. All the regrets. Every single choice he has made up until this moment in his life.

He can feel the throbbing in his temples getting worse by the second. The oncoming headache is no surprise considering he’s spent the last hour—at least!—glaring at everyone. Seriously, everyone. Except Jay.

Stupid, beautiful, perfect Jay. Who doesn’t realize that everyone in the surrounding vicinity is leering at him. Almost full on drooling over him.

It’s disgusting. And unacceptable. Jason is his, damnit. Even if these people don’t know that.

Tim is a strategist, has a plan for every outcome. So, he really should’ve seen this coming. This being, popsicles on a beach in the summer, next to a fire, are going to melt. And quickly.

Jason, for his part, is far too intent on his popsicle to really care about anything else.

About twenty minutes ago, after the first popsicle had melted too much and slipped from the stick, Jason had taken his shirt off, making a face at the wet spot on it, and showing everyone those gorgeous abs.

Tim is pretty sure the girl sitting next to him had actually swooned when Jason twisted around to drop the shirt, showing off all his rippling muscles.

Tim internally groans as Jay licks another trail of popsicle juice from his elbow up to his wrist. Some of the people around watching shift a little, obviously thinking about something other than a healthy frozen treat.

---

This is stupid, Tim isn’t a jealous person. He has no right—no reason to want—to punch stupid Gary or whatever-the-hell-his-name-is in the face when he dares to grab Jason's shoulder as he’s sitting down next to him.

Nor, should Tim want to kill him for wrapping his arm around Jason’s shoulder as they laugh about who knows what.

Point is, Tim and Jason have been dating for years! Actual years; two of them. Tim is confident in their relationship.

It was, after all, Tim's idea not to go public. He didn’t think the media was ready for one of the Wayne heirs to be openly gay and dating the obvious, but not technically openly, bisexual Drake heir. There would be a lot of rude comments and questions. So many people would try to play it off as teenage curiosity.

But that’s not true. Tim knows that he loves Jason and wants to be with him, preferably forever. He also knows that Jason loves him, forever. That no one else has a chance with either of them.

That doesn’t mean Tim isn’t about one popsicle away from marching over there are kissing Jason breathless and blushing. Staking his claim for everyone to see.

Jay finally finished his popsicle and when he doesn’t reach for another, Tim breathes a sigh of relief—everyone else pouts about their show being over.

Seeing Jay lie down in the sand is acceptably less teasing, even if it does cause his shorts the slide a little higher up, showing off his fantastic thighs. Fewer people seem interested in staring at those, though.

---

Tim is going to murder Roy. Then, he’s going to murder Dick for inviting Roy.

Roy, who is sitting very close to Jason—who is blushing so bright—and telling him just how pornographic he looked sitting over here with no shirt and juice dripping all over the place.

Tim doesn’t care anymore. Doesn’t care what he said or why it’s important. Jason is his!

He gets up, rocky slightly in the soft sand, and stalks passed the two logs—actual logs because Dick is extra—to where Jason and Roy are sitting. He doesn’t say anything, and knows Jason will tease him mercilessly about the caveman act later. He reaches a hand out to Jason, who turned away from Roy when Tim walked up. Once Tim has Jason's hand in his, he pulls the larger boy up, and right into a deep, deep kiss. Tim keeps going, and going until Jason pulls back to breathe, panting and flushed all the way to his chest.

Distantly, he hears Roy’s “Told ya I could get him to do it!” shouted.

He also hears Dick's exasperated groan, followed by, “Timmy, you’re the one with self-control.”

It doesn’t matter. Because all he cares about right now is the small, genuine smile—the one that crinkles his blue-green eyes at the corner, the one that is only for Tim—lighting up Jay's face.

#jason todd #tim drake #jealousy #obliviousness #jaytim #day 3 #popsicles and campfire #jaytimweek #jaytimweek2017 #jaytimweeksum2017

[newsiegirlscout]

Of Rooks and Pawns

Hey there! Beautiful individuals, I bring you a short fanfiction I wrote based off an adorable headcanon discussed between @thefangirlingcartoongal and I! I hope you enjoy it!

Brinnnnnnnnnggggggg!!!!!

The children of Jerome Howitz Elementary school bristled with cheer when the recess bell released them from their seats and sent them fleeing outside, gleeful expressions shining in their bright eyes. It was during this forty-five minutes of freedom that Mr. Krupp would patrol the classrooms silently, his careful scrutiny sweeping over the gaily colored molded plastic chairs, posters, and lesson agendas, sipping his coffee and enjoying the serenity of a room without the clamor of schoolchildren nor the turmoil of his office. Once or twice, a baffled teacher had lead their children inside only to find him reading an article on his phone with his feet propped up on one of the back desks, and he’d try to shrug it off jokingly, act like he was there to see the lesson plan as a surprise visit. After all, no one had expected him to be there, not even Mr. Krupp himself. The classrooms were always serene, always dark save for the few streams of light dancing through the windows, always completely alone.

So, of course, it came as a surprise when he stepped into Ms. Ribble’s classroom with his non-fat mocha cappuccino only to find somebody else had already beaten him to it. At his usual perch, a familiar freckled ginger sat cross-legged on the back desk, eating his packed lunch out of a paper bag monotonously as he used a small penlight to read a copy of the Encyclopedia Brittanica, hazel eyes flickering back and forth over the pages. 

The principal cleared his throat softly, hoping to provide at least a warning of his arrival. As predicted, he looked up and gasped, his eyes frozen behind his large glasses. 

“May I ask why you’ve chosen to stay inside rather than joining your classmates, Melvin?”

The boy closed the volume and slid it to the side as if it were something to be ashamed of, rolled up his empty paper bag and reoriented it beside his lunch, looked down at the flat wooden surface and started tracing patterns absently on the desk with his finger. 

“I don’t feel that there’s anything productive I could do with the time, sir.” He bit his lower lip and winced when Mr. Krupp stepped forward, digging a folded slip of pale key lime paper out of his pocket and sliding it forward for him to see, shifting his weight from one knee to the other as the administrator leaned forward to read it. 

                                   May 23, 2017

Excuse: Lunch break/Recess 

Student: Melvin Sneedly

Teacher Signature: Regina Ribble

This pass didn’t have a reason for excuse, but it didn’t need one. The ink smudged on his callused thumb when he peered closely at the signature, double-checking for forgery, though he knew at the first glance it was her stamp, her trademark scent, even her favorite pen color-bright crimson, the type used to slash into a bad paper- scribbled hastily across the pass. 

“Wait here. I need to head back to my office for just a minute.” Mr. Krupp said roughly, in that special sharp tone he used to make children halt in place almost involuntarily, unable to move from the spot until he returned. (It had worked on nine hundred and ninety-eight of the pupils he’d enrolled; but those two were special cases.) 

Melvin nodded just once before he drew his knees to his chest and shivered, blinking back nervous tears and the hot blush spreading across his face when his principal strode out of the room. A minute passed, and he laced his fingers together, watching the pressure turn his joints milky white, running one finger across the riveted edge of his silver wristwatch.

Three minutes ticked by, and he couldn’t stop the question from entering his mind, the possibility leading to an entire realm of worry and insecurity. 

What if he gives me detention?

Five minutes. 

Augggghh, Shut up, shut up, shutupshutupshutup, What if he calls my parents? What if he’s calling STOP IT! my parents right now, what if he’s telling them how much NO, YOU’RE BETTER THAN THAT, of an insecure loser I am, how I can’t even go outside, what if he NO HE DOESN’T knows how I asked Ms. Ribble to sign the pass right as George and Harold started drawing their comic books, how I handed her the pass and waited until she wrote my name, then told her that I was pretty sure that new issue of General Trousers or whatnot starred her, ISN’T THAT LYING? What if he calls the police? Am I going to go to JAIL?!?!?

Fifteen minutes had passed before Mr. Krupp returned to the classroom, a small briefcase in hand.

Melvin, as he had expected, was still exactly where he had been last, though with an almost imperceptible film of fog on his glasses, his knuckles turning white and his cheeks pink. What had happened? Was he broken? Fourth-graders, as he had seen numerous times, rarely teared up, even in the worst of situations. 

“Melvin. Please, calm down. You know my paycheck gets cut if a student manages to die on campus.”

“Plea-” his voice cracked with the sheer anxiety, and he cleared his throat and began again, “Please don’t send me to jail, I’ll-I’ll go to recess, sir!”

A puzzled expression crossed Mr. Krupp’s features, and he shrugged it off. 

“I can’t say I’m certain what you’re talking about, but you’re the captain of the chess club, correct?”

“Yes?” He offered uncertainly. (Technically, Melvin was the only member of the Chess Club, and since he had founded it, he declared it a unanimous vote towards his presidency.)

The principal set the briefcase onto the table, flipping it open to reveal a faded chess board and well-worn pieces. 

“In that case, what do you say to a match against yours truly?” he offered, a mischievous grin spreading as he snagged one of Melvin’s Oreos. The schoolchild beamed and pulled one of the nearby chairs to meet him, setting out his packed lunch once more and giving a cheerful thumbs-up. 

“Yeah, I guess you and I both need a break-I mean, anything’s better than doing paperwork.” Mr. Krupp chuckled softly. 

And the room was calming once more.

#captain underpants #cu #melvin sneedly #mr krupp #benjamin krupp #benny krupp #ficlet #my fanfiction #hahaha #i've developed a new weakness #mr krupp and melvin #because therapy is expensive

[murdocklovespage]

So, when you talk about your "long-winded and disjointed list of problems" with season 2...I'm curious to ask, what's on that list?

It’s been a few months since I’ve re-watched Season 2, so feel free to correct me if I’ve misremembered something. 

My biggest problems with season 2:

The Timeline: 

Everything has to take place in the span of a few weeks? If it worked out logically, Matt wouldn’t have self-destructed the way he did. He catches the Punisher in a few days, the trial happens a week later (riiight...) and then lasts a few days. Then the Punisher gets out in less time than the length of the trial. And all of this is happening during very time-sensitive Hand discoveries? Kevin McCallister voice: I don’t think so. 

Nelson and Murdock

How in the hell do two men with expensive law degrees afford to live in New York when they are (maybe) paying the rent for their space and nothing else? You can’t ignore that fact for an entire second season. Maybe Matt could survive off of whatever money his father left him, but that seems unlikely. And I haven’t gotten the vibe that Foggy is rich like in the comics. Plus, the Punisher certainly isn’t paying them, so the best case scenario would be that hopefully their careers aren’t ruined and more (criminal) clients to show up on their doorstep after everything is done?

I know DD is a dark show, but one of the best elements of the show is the relationships. Foggy and Karen balance Matt out - they are his ties to his humanity. But the second half of the show he is off screwing them over and they barely interact with him for the last four episodes - a good 1/4th of the season. I don’t think he even speaks with Foggy in those last episodes. Foggy basically disappears from the show - and the fact that Matt doesn’t see him while he’s standing on the roof of the same hospital is so incredibly aggravating. He’s been Daredevil for a year? A year and a half? So he was a decent friend before all that and then became an asshole? Does his alter-ego have that big a hold on him? He really needed to have more conversations with Father Lantom, that’s for damn sure.

They didn’t use Foggy enough after the trial. He’s so much better than the role of sanctimonious best friend. In the beginning of season 2 he is more accepting of Matt’s nightly activities and I think that’s because he knows that Matt isn’t going to stop. But no, we need to rehash the conversation they had in Murdock v. Nelson (which is my favorite episode of S.1, btw) because Matt just doesn’t learn. Foggy is justifiably upset with his partner, but it comes off as annoying. 

Whenever Matt is an asshole, Foggy ends up being an asshole to Karen too, which is garbage. He’s like, “I’m out,” but he is her employer. She’s losing everything after all her sacrifices for their firm. I know she’s always trying to keep things together when he just wants distance from Matt, but both of their lives are crumbling and his mentality is basically, “I can’t deal with you right now, Karen. Even though you helped me get through all of this.”

The fact that Matt thinks he can promise Karen that he’ll protect her when he dodges her calls, lies to her, and ignores her is flat out asinine. And for the majority of the show, she’s just nods her head when he says he’ll protect her. If she doesn’t know that he’s Daredevil, the only frame of reference she has is him letting her stay at his apartment (which wasn’t attacked, so I guess that counts), and him telling her she needs to be more careful. But seriously, how does he even think he’s protecting her? He was ok with her going with Grotto, who was being hunted (not his fault, but a good example of failing to protect her), then her apartment is shot up. He straight up failed at what he promised (with the exception of the DA’s office) and those are only season 2 examples. I know he’s human, and he can’t be everywhere, but quit acting like you BELIEVE you’ll protect her, Matt!

He was finally willing to go off with her into protective custody - to which I was like, “YES,” even though I feel like it was uncharacteristic of him. How long would he have stuck around if she’d let him? He could have been doing this the entire time. Thank God she told him that he wasn’t hers to protect in the end. He needed that rude awakening.  

The Trial

Why would N&M let Frank wear the orange jumpsuit during the majority of the trial when they knew he needed to be humanized? They never would have done that in a real courtroom. Also, there was no way Castle was going to be a good boy and give a good testimony when he thought he was justified and LIKED killing everyone. That was a bad call, Karen. He can’t use his sex glare on the whole courtroom.

Frank was annoyed about the PTSD argument, but they should have explained that his PTSD didn’t stem from the war. He saw his family butchered in front of him, was shot in the head, and was almost murdered after surviving all of that. You don’t think you have PTSD? You think going on a murderous rampage and enjoying it is normal? There’s clearly something wrong with you, bro. And if you don’t see that, there’s the proof.

I want Matt to be a decent lawyer with ever fiber of my being. But instead, he goes off on this tangent that should have been his opening remarks (if he hadn’t slept through it.) He was testifying for Frank, not “questioning the witness.” How did Samantha Reyes let that slide?

I cringe every time they say they could “win this.” Like, how? He still killed dozens of people. Do they mean that Castle would be put in a mental institution? Is that winning?

The Villains - I feel like they made the same mistake a lot of superhero movies (and Luke Cage) make, and that is including WAY too many villains. The show felt incredibly disjointed. We have The Hand, the Punisher, The Blacksmith, Elektra and Stick for a hot minute, and Fisk. It’s ridiculous.

This is my biggest issue with Season 2. It felt like they decided to tell an incomplete story in order to set up The Punisher, Iron Fist, and the Defenders.

The Hand 

had been around since season 1 and I STILL don’t feel like I have a decent grasp of what they are/why they’re doing what they’re doing. They should have just been thrown in during the last episode, because that’s how much information I felt like I got after 9 episodes.

Even with Iron Fist, I feel like the Hand was barely explained. Now it’s also some cult that good people get swept up into (but when they try to leave, the people who cared about them are instantly willing to drain their bodies of blood and fight them… sure...) I feel like Matt whenever Stick talks about the Chaste. Annoyed and in disbelief that it even exists.

Somehow the enormous hole situation is enough to pull Matt back in? He’s like, “I’m not helping you anymore, Elektra. Oh wait, there are giant holes in Manhattan. Ok, I’m in.”

Why are centuries old trained ninjas such terrible fighters? They don’t even seem like real bad guys. They’re expendable and they suck.  

I feel like the real reason the writers had the Hand kidnap all of the people that DD had saved was to give Karen a reason to be potentially thankful when Matt reveals his alter ego. Also, why in the hell was Turk kidnapped when DD beats him up regularly? He is not one of the victims of the criminal element of Hell’s Kitchen, he IS a criminal.

The Punisher

His introduction - which, honestly, I still loved because it gave me chills, but it doesn’t make much sense. If he has this code, why would he shoot up a hospital? If he is such a marksman, why didn’t he just wait until he caught up to him and shoot him? But no, he has to use a shotgun in a hospital to chase a dude who is being protected by an innocent woman so that he looks scary. That’s the only reason.

How in the hell did the Punisher have the resources to find Grotto when he was given an alias and the police didn’t even know?

I feel like the conversations between the Punisher and Matt were some of the best acting on the show, but the Punisher won most of the arguments. Also, Matt tries to get on his level by acting like he understands the struggle of a war vet, which really pissed me off. And if DD told me that the men who killed my children IN FRONT OF ME deserved justice… Let’s just say the Punisher seemed pretty damn patient in that moment.

Also, Matt. You literally throw billy clubs at brains. Those men are brain dead. You have no higher ground to stand on.

The relationship between Karen and Frank. She doesn’t trust him, then she does, then she doesn’t, then he saves her and she trusts him again. Then this conversation happens:

Karen: The Blacksmith already tried to get me once, I really don’t want to give him a second chance.Frank: He’s not going to get it.Frank (under his breath?): Except I’m going to use you as bait a few minutes later, and technically his people will be shooting at you, but you know, you’re safe, or whatever.

Also, if she were in protective custody, why wouldn’t the police go into the elevator? Does “we’ll be right outside” mean they’ll be “right outside” the hotel?

The Blacksmith

Felt like an afterthought. Frank Castle’s family dying at a drug bust for the Blacksmith was so ridiculously coincidental. And why in the hell would the Blacksmith help him at his trial if he’s coming after everyone involved in the deaths of his family? He was the only positive element of Frank’s trial, but he could have easily said no, and his problem would disappear. He acts like he owes a debt to Frank, and then tries to kill him.

The Punisher and the Blacksmith should have been combined into one season and everything else into another. But since season 3 is happening two years after season 2, I guess this is the crazy way they decided to do it.

Elektra and Stick

Maybe you don’t think that they were villains here, but they were certainly problems that took up multiple episodes. Stick turns on on Elektra… Why? Because she chose Matt instead of him? And then Matt just jumps on his side when she justifiably attacks him. Hey dude, your douchebag sensei:

Abandoned you as a child.

Sent Elektra to ruin your life in college. 

Has a completely different code than you, and never keeps his promises. You literally can’t trust him. 

Tried to kill her because she wasn’t a good soldier - just like you. And you don’t ask questions?

I need to end this by saying that I still like season 2, it was just super flawed. I like Elektra and the Punisher. I like that Karen steps away to become her own person. I like Foggy showing he doesn’t need Matt - even though it breaks my heart and if I had a choice I would pick Matt being a decent person instead. And I loved the Karen/Matt storyline until they just gave up on it.

[blaperile]

Homestuck Epilogues - Meat - Page 12 (Epilogue 2 Page 4)

#Homestuck #The Homestuck Epilogues #Meat #Epilogue Two #Jade #Dave #Karkat