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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 279: Here Comes the Airplane

Previously on BnHA: Gigantomachia gathered up the rest of the League and headed off to go help Tomura. Also he is now 80 feet tall. The heroes were all, “whoa this guy is really big, we should probably stop him and maybe even devote an entire chapter or two just to that,” and so they sent three whole people after him, which sadly is pretty much the exact sort of strategy I’ve come to expect from them by this point. Anyway so Mt. Lady tried to hold Machia off but kept getting flung aside, and Kamui Woods tried to catch him but was set on fire by Dabi who is just having way too good of a time setting all of the flammable heroes on fire today, and Midnight tried to put him to sleep but Compress threw a bunch of debris at her and so she fell like 80 feet. The chapter ended with Midnight being all “fuck this” and calling Momo, who ordered the rest of the child soldier squad into action as Machia approached. I’m not really sure what they’re gonna do, but I honestly don’t really care, because it’s Momo, and so, YES.

Today on BnHA: U.A.’s first-year hero students, who apparently had nine hours to prepare their battleground instead of the fifteen seconds we had all assumed, launch a complex multi-staged assault which is actually really fucking impressive because these kids are actually awesome. First they pin Machia down in one of Honenuki’s mud pits, and then they take turns making impassioned attempts to take out the other League members chilling out on Machia’s back. Unfortunately none of these attempts work because of Dabi, who’s working overtime while the rest of the League sits around shooting down each other’s escape plans. Basically a lot of stuff gets set on fire, and then the chapter ends with Mt. Lady pinning Machia to the ground while MINA, YES, MINA, charges at him covered in acid like some sort of video game boss that you need some kind of specific item to defeat. DID YOU KNOW YESTERDAY WAS MINA’S BIRTHDAY YOU GUYS. Anyway so this chapter is basically pandemonium from start to finish, and it’s great. It is a RUMPUS, y'all. A STRAIGHT UP HULLABALOO.

IS IT MOMO LOVIN’ HOURS I THINK IT IS, YOU GUYS. ARE YOU EXCITED. I AM EXCITED

but first, the color page we were promised, in celebration of Six Whole Years Of This Bullshit!!

oh god oh god so much to love so little time

some of the rowdier characters are making MULTIPLE APPEARANCES IN THIS SHITSHOW, including Kaminari who appears to be in a record-setting THREE of these! who exactly was taking all of these pictures, and why are they so obsessed with him. also how many of these are going to be used as evidence in the latest Kami Traitor Theory posts and is it too early for me to get mad about it

“WE INVITED ENDEAVOR AND HAWKS TO OUR ‘BEING FANCY ON THE COLOR PAGE’ PARTY, EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE NOT U.A. STUDENTS OR FACULTY. WE JUST FELT LIKE IT.” listen that is fine, y’all don’t have to explain yourselves to me

Mirko however is not here, I assume because if she was, Horikoshi would have forgotten to draw all the rest of the characters again. she’s too powerful

Midnight is so sexy I don’t even ksdfnkl

ALL MIGHT LOOKING HAPPY GIVES ME THE STRENGTH I NEED TO MAKE IT THROUGH THE REST OF THIS WEEK. YOUR SMILE IS THE MVP

Cementoss’s face is the runner-up MVP and one of the greatest things I’ve seen in my life

half the people here seem to be attempting to flirt with whoever is taking the pictures. I am starting to suspect that the culprit is Momo. change my mind

for some reason I am really shocked to see Endeavor getting his drink on. and he’s literally the only one, too

Bakugou’s half-assed I SAID NO PAPARAZZI skills are no match for Tamaki’s legendary “I WILL LITERALLY DIE IF YOU CAPTURE ME ON FILM” abilities

I literally didn’t notice Deku until like three quarters of the page in. he sure does blend right in there

Tokoyami is approximately 97.3% done and ticking EVER CLOSER to full 100% doneness, and when that happens even I can’t tell you what is going to go down

do I even need to mention how sexy Aizawa’s hair is. apparently I do

SERIOUSLY THOUGH CEMENTOSS’S FACE

anyway, so that was nice! NOW ON TO THE MOMOLOVIN’

and we begin with FIRST YEAR CLASS B HONENUKI “MUDMAN” JUZOU just LAYIN’ SOME TRAPS IN THE WOODS, as one does

oh my freaking god Tokage

somehow her quirk didn’t freak me out quite this much the last time we saw her. she is really something. has she always had shark teeth

also WHERE IS MONOMA’S GROUP. I immediately want to know!! is he with the Shouto group? or is there yet ANOTHER student group we don’t know about? what would they even be doing

or did Horikoshi actually get three quarters of the way through writing this arc and then suddenly slap his forehead as he realized that if Monoma just casually copied Machia’s powers he would either DIE IMMEDIATELY or else become SUPER STRONG and also grow 80 feet tall and this would suddenly be a very different battle with the scales tipping decidedly in the heroes’ favor. and so he had to quickly write him out of the battle in this very half-assed way

anyway, so while I ponder that, Tokage is peeking the top of her head out over the trees and staring at Machia who is, you guessed it, still heading right their way! just like he’s been doing pretty much this entire time

and now there’s a whole page of reaction panels you guys. this is why Horikoshi tries to avoid these massive Endgame-style battles with every single hero known to man participating. hopefully we won’t have too many of these. like I mean thank you for the roll call and all but I’d like to get to the action now

Mineta of all people is stealing this entire page with that expression though. he is not fucking around. this is twice in as many chapters that he’s been a page-stealing face-making champ. dare I hope this could be the start of a new niche for him? lord knows it would be so much better than the old niche

also this page is just sweatdrops galore. these kids are so nervous. MANGA GODS PLEASE KEEP THEM SAFE, although I’m honestly not too worried about them compared to the adults. I’m sure I should be, but I just am not

all right so now Momo is explaining what those little canisters are!

okay but someone please explain to me how it is that they had time to stop and lay all of these traps?? not just Honenuki’s, but Mineta’s and what looks like some of Shiozaki’s work as well?? did Machia just STOP MOVING for like five whole minutes all of a sudden for no reason at all? while they were all sitting out here saying things like “with that speed...”? ????? ????????

also lol wtf. “we’re gonna have to make him eat it.” I still have no idea what their plan is, but it’s getting more entertaining by the minute I’ll say that much

okay so Momo says that if they can get him to swallow just one of these, then that should be enough to put him to sleep. oh my god this chapter is going to be AMAZING isn’t it

meanwhile Mineta is worrying about Midnight. I swear to god if they turn this into something where he’s only worried because she’s hot, I will take one of these canisters and shove it right up his...

okay good, Mina’s reassuring him that it’s gonna be okay, and then we’re just cutting to Machia stampeding in with Mt. Lady and Kamui still clinging to him

WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE GUYS EVEN DOING

“we’ll just stand here adjacent to him and just kind of watch as he rushes straight at the children.” someone help me, I’m having difficulty finding a synonym for “useless” that carries the full amount of emphasis I want to place on it right now. this requires a degree of language the human race is not yet capable of

OH SNAP

THEY GOT HIM YEAHHHHH

OH DANG, FOR REAL THOUGH!!

ngl, for a brief spiteful moment I was disappointed he hadn’t actually fallen on them :/

and they’re still JUST STANDING THERE, I CAN'T EVEN?? we’re getting to the point where I honestly think actual civilians might have been of more use in this situation

YESSSSS

TIME TO FIND OUT HOW MANY TENTH GRADERS GIGANTOMACHIA CAN TAKE IN A FIGHT

also, sorry to keep harping on this, but the juxtaposition of that earlier panel with all of the fully grown and experienced pros just standing in dumb awe, immediately followed by this panel of BRAVE BUT DETERMINED CHILDREN CHARGING IN AND YELLING “GO GO GO”, is just... it really is something. shit. if I was the HPSC and this was what I had to work with, I too might have seriously considered fudging a few age requirements in hopes of finding someone who could actually get the fucking job done

also what the hell is going on down there with Shishida and Satou and that third person? what are those Blackwhip-looking things?? I’m confused

ohhhhh no

Shiozaki is about to be sent flying through the air courtesy of her own hair vines omg

OH NO WAIT THE THREE TOUGH GUYS ARE STOPPING HIM. AHHH THE LAST ONE WAS KENDOU AHHHH

I still can’t figure out what the hell those are though lol. did Momo make some steel cables?? I feel like Machia would be able to break just about any kind of rope or chain they could concoct just by sheer brute strength alone

ah fuck

DON’T YOU GUYS GO RUINING THIS FOR ME!! THEY’VE GOT A GOOD THING GOING HERE, LET THEM HAVE THEIR FUN!!

although I do appreciate how they’re all “U.A.!!” in kind of this “oh shit, these guys we actually have to worry about” sort of tone lol

this look on Toga’s face is a bit concerning! well but Deku and Ochako aren’t here though, so I wonder who she’s gonna fight if it comes to that. huh

(ETA: seriously, does anyone have any idea what Toga is planning cuz I sure don’t.)

Shouji and Ojiro, who I might remind you are normal people with no enhanced physical abilities aside from extra appendages, appear to have somehow circled all the way around to Machia’s back and are now climbing up oh shit

oh and Aoyama’s there too! -- is Shouji carrying him omg

he’s using him as a human ray gun omggg. this is the most delightful thing I’ve ever witnessed

NOW SOMETHING IS BEING SHOT AT THE LEAGUE AND DABI’S STARING AT IT ALL “>:(” AND I’M PRETTY SURE THIS THING, WHATEVER IT IS, IS ABOUT TO BE SET ON FIRE, LET’S SEE

lds;afksjdl;fkj WERE THOSE JIROU’S EARJACKS??!!

okay you know what fuck you Dabi. you think it’s funny to set a little girl’s ears on fire?! don’t expect any sympathy from me when Aoyama lasers you in the face

WELL I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING BUT THEY’RE SHOOTING WHAT LOOK LIKE A BUNCH OF LITTLE TAMBOURINES AT HIM NOW

I ASSUME THEY ARE NOT ACTUALLY TAMBOURINES, BUT I REALLY DON’T KNOW, IT’S NOT LIKE THEY HANDED OUT THE RULE BOOK TO THIS THING AHEAD OF TIME

[HUGE EXAGGERATED GASPING SOUNDS]

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my

OH MY GOD AND YANAGI THREW THEM WITH HER POLTERGEIST QUIRK!??

I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS “ACK?!!” IS AND IT’S REALLY BUMMING ME OUT, BECAUSE THIS CAME WITHIN INCHES OF BEING THE COOLEST FUCKING COMBINATION I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!?!?

(ETA: it would have laid them all flat in seconds. Kaminari is to be feared you guys.)

NO!!!!!

it is sincerely frustrating to me watching the League carelessly toss aside all of their painstakingly accumulated goodwill from the MVA arc in the span of just a few short pages. hey Compress, you think it’s cool to hurl a bunch of rocks at my six-and-a-half-year-old son?? I hope someone rips that cool robot arm off and uses it to punch you in the dick

here comes Sero!! and how are you going to die, Sero

what in the

did he just... sneeze them all into space

okay but hear me out, what if Shouda absorbed that impact. SHOUDA YOUR TIME HAS FINALLY COME. CLASS 1-B’S ASCENT TO GLORY

(ETA: watch this space!! Shouda is here for a reason mark my words.)

meanwhile on Machia’s back, Dabi is soliloquying about Machia’s quirk while his arm is doing... something

please forgive me for not being able to drum up any sympathy for poor Dabi’s arms right about now. quit trying to set all my kids on fire

wait whaaaaat lol

so I scrolled back up to the previous page, and... that was fire?? lord help me why am I still so terrible at being able to tell when Horikoshi is drawing fire as opposed to just air randomly whooshing through trees. I have really got to memorize that foossh sound effect

so can Gigantomachia just BREATHE FIRE now?? or was ALL OF THAT Dabi??? if it was the latter then at least he had the decency to wait until all of the kids got blown out of range before setting the whole forest aflame to keep them back. I’ll admit it, that was thoughtful of him as far as villain power moves go

OHO BUT YOU CAN’T COUNT MOMO OUT JUST LIKE THAT!!

AND NOW EVERYTHING AROUND THEM IS EXPLODING AHHHHHH DID YOU GUYS SET LANDMINES, BAKUGOU WOULD BE SO PROUD

once again I have to ask myself exactly how much prep time they had here. Horikoshi would have you think it was mere seconds, but that clearly cannot be the case?? maybe they set some of these up beforehand to catch any stray villains trying to flee the area?

lmao Spinner’s all “wait why doesn’t he just dig his way out”, because apparently Machia can tunnel himself under the ground. but Compress is all “um because we would die” and Spinner is all “oh right”

though I gotta say, it’s not like they’re that much better off as things are now, either. pinned down in the woods surrounded by fire and explosives. definitely a conundrum

oh snap Compress has realized that their presence is holding Machia back. don’t tell me Machia is gonna head off on his own and leave the rest of the League to square off with the kids

YOOOOOO HOLY SHIT THE HEROES ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING

there you go, League! free cannon fodder to get you all pumped and confident again!

DKFJLSDKJ

PLEASE LET THIS BE THE ACTUAL TRANSLATION OH MY GOD. THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE LINE IN ANYTHING AHHHH

“I’m leaving it to you, U.A.’s youngsters!” yeah, you and everyone else. ah well, can’t deny they get the job done

OH MMKJKYYYY GODDDDDDJJK

MINA COATED HERSELF IN ACID AND IS RUNNING AT GIGANTOMACHIA AND IS SHE ALSO ON FIRE??!?! SHE’S JUST RUNNING AT HIM LIKE A BIG OL’ FIERY BLOB???! QUEEN MINA???!! FIRE IS NOT HER WEAKNESS???! MINA??!! IS AIRPLANE?!??!!?!? MINAAAAAAA

holy fucking shit this whole arc is just one big Arc Of Ladies Getting To Do Stuff and I am 1000% living for it. THIS ARC IS MY FAMILY. I WOULD DIE FOR IT AND LEAVE EVERYTHING TO IT IN MY WILL. ahhhhhhhhhh

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stanzoeywade · 4 years

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Poppy x MC Tinder AU

Summary: based off that one tumblr post about a girl who never experienced an orgasm and their friend hooks them up with their lesbian friend. aka, the au that no one asked for.

in which Veronica and Chloe find out that Poppy's never experienced an orgasm and they decide to help her out by creating a tinder account for her, cue MC finding her account and shenanigans happen.

Warnings: swear words maybe some smut but nothing too graphic. (OWO)

If anyone wants to be added to taglist please reply. As always these are only my headcanons so enjoy my take on that tinder au anon asked @somewillwin about. Your brain anon omg.

Taglist: @somewillwin @belvoiresqueenbee @origmansello @clownery-is-a-new-personality @kamilahtrash @poppysminion @poppysimp @captain-hanadeleine @poppysmc @iiizdumb @uselesslesbianfr @scattered-to-the-winds @idiot-justidiot @toyhenoctus

First of all this discussion happens one night where Poppy, Chloe and Veronica get their asses drunk at a frat party. Believe or not the top 3 girls of Belvoire actually care about each other, they just have a really weird way of showing it.

A heart to heart talk starts and the three of them start to confess things that they would never talk about when sober. Cue Poppy saying "I've never experienced an orgasm in my whole life."

Chloe and Veronica just look at Poppy shocked and their jaws drop. Veronica just looks at Poppy with a weird look of pity, whilst Chloe just stares.

After realising what she said Poppy quickly sobers up and clams her mouth shut. "What do you mean you've never had an orgasm before?!" Veronica all but yells. "Gee V, couldn't you have said that any louder, I don't think the whole school heard you." Poppy replies sarcastically.

Veronica just rolls her eyes and says "Girl, you're not getting out of this convo that easily. Now spill the tea sis." Chloe and Veronica look at Poppy expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate. Poppy just sighs and looks away cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed.

The two don't stop pestering her, so Poppy has no choice but to raise her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll tell you" she says as her eyes narrow dangerously. "But if you tell anyone about this, I will actually erase the both of you from planet earth."

Poppy begins to explain that none of her exes made her feel good, and that whenever she had sex with any of them she always had to fake it, so much so that she's started to find sex boring.

Veronica and Chloe share a look and nod at each other. The both of them say "We're gonna set up a tinder account for you to find a good lay (basically the british version of saying good fuck), because that's just pretty fucking sad. Why didn't you tell us sooner, like bruhhh??."

Poppy just looks away and says "Its not like I can just go up to you guys and say 'I've never orgasmed before'". The two just nod their head in understanding before taking Poppy's phone and installing tinder.

They spend some time taking and choosing the best photos for Poppy to use on her tinder profile. (If anyone has seen Euphoria, you know that scene where Rue helps Jules take nudes, it's like that but PG-13) Considering that the three of them were pretty drunk, it was surprising to see how well it turned out.

Feeling sleepy, both Veronica and Chloe retreat back to their room, and Poppy just feels so tired that she falls asleep as soon as the other girls leave.

Waking up the next morning Poppy wakes up to the sound of her phone beeping numerous times and annoyed by the constant ping, she picks it up to see that almost all the notifications were from tinder.

Poppy is confused because wtf? When did she download tinder??? And then it hits her like a truck, 'Oh shit, we were all drunk as fuck last night, I thought that was some bizarre lucid dream but I actually have a tinder account. Fuck.' - she thinks to herself, embarrassed that Veronica and Chloe know her secret.

She sees a few messages from the group chat. Veronica sent her a message. "Poppy, istg if you delete tinder after all the time we spent making your profile look cute, I will post the ugliest picture I have of you on my insta." it reads. What surprised her is that Chloe actually backs Veronica up by saying "Yeah Poppy, it took our three collective brain cells to curate that account so you better use it."

Poppy giggles a little amused by her friends' reaction and she messages them back by saying "Fine, but if it doesn't work out you guys have to pay for my next shopping spree." Chloe and Veronica just agrees albeit unwillingly, but they know not to argue back.

Poppy decides to check the messages and matches that she got on tinder, disappointed but not surprised, most messages say "Send nudes" or a nude pic is attached to their messages. Poppy just rolls her eyes as she immediately unmatches them.

You were looking on tinder for your latest hook-up with no strings attached because ewww commitment and no one really caught your eye, except Poppy. Imagine your surprise when you find Poppy's profile on tinder, deciding that it was a troll account you decide to message them saying "Wow, of all the people you could choose to pretend to be, you choose the HBIC of Belvoire. Stop trying to catfish people, that's just shitty."

Poppy shocked at the sudden message that she gets from you scoffs and replies back "I'm not pretending to be anyone, Farmsville, in case you didn't know even I'm allowed to use tinder."

You just roll your eyes and text back "If you really are Poppy Min-Sinclair, prove it. I might hate Poppy's guts but trying to ruin her reputation by doing shit like this isn't funny."

This catches Poppy's attention, and suddenly she's curious. 'Why would she even stand up for me?' she can't help but wonder.

Poppy screenshots your conversation and sends it to Chloe and Veronica who have vastly different reactions. Veronica's response compiles of this emoji 👀, and the words "Farmsville likes girls, we been knew." and Chloe's response is more of a "WTF, I thought she was dating that Zoey girl."

The girls tell her that it would be fun to mess with you, and they tell her that she should prove that the profile is hers. Veronica also messages her privately saying "girl, her bio legit says 'not looking for commitment' this is like your chance to sleep with her and if you don't, I will." Poppy just grunts in annoyance and decides that fine, she supposed that you were attractive enough for a hook-up.

When you don't get a reply within the next ten minutes you scoff and roll your eyes. 'Damn, people really stoop so low huh.' - you think to yourself. There's a slight disappointment that crosses your mind once the account stopped replying to your messages. You were kind of hoping that it was the real Poppy after all.

Against her better judgement (gay denial right here folks, you're the first to see it), she decides to take a selfie and sends it to you.

Right as you're about to unmatch to what most likely seems to be a fake account, you're surprised to see a message from Poppy's supposed account. It was a selfie of Poppy, where instead of her usual pink fur coat, she's wearing something casual, and to be fair it's a really nice mirror selfie. (This is what I imagine) (I still stand by my headcanon of Poppy looking like Chungha but I couldn't find a good photo lolol)

Doubting that it's really Poppy, you decide to check your socials to see if she's uploaded any new images, and so far you haven't found anything. However you're nothing if not stubborn. You ask if she could prove that she's real and not some weirdo.

Poppy just rolls her eyes annoyed that she's being questioned, as a last ditch effort to gain your trust she sends another selfie, which is a bit more revealing than the last and once you see it your brain stops functioning.

Regaining your composure, you message her saying "I thought you had a boyfriend? What the fuck?" The only response you get is a reaction gif of some girl rolling their eyes. Being the little shit you are you decide to annoy her by sending selfies back, each photo more provocative than the last.

Poppy amused by the photos decides to get you back and it becomes a game of one-upping each other to see who takes better thirst traps. This continues on for an entire week (It's such a stupid competion and both of you know but you're both competitive af so yeah.) until Poppy snaps and contacts you using her actual phone number instead of the app.

Poppy's already frustrated and she's annoyed because she can't stop thinking about you and your stupidly hot, gorgeous body - oh my god I'm going insane she thinks to herself. She decides enough is enough and messages you. "FUCK YOU FARMSVILLE! BACK DOWN ALREADY!"

You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't have a sassy comeback ready so you reply with "FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" sending her yet another thirst trap, this one more revealing than the others.

Poppy snaps when she sees the message and she's quick to make a reservation to her favourite hotel in NYC, because as if she'd be seen taking you to her room. She gets the biggest room because she's extra like that and she knows she deserves the best.

The only response you get is a pinned location on the map, aptly captioned, "Meet me here Farmsville and I'll make you eat your words."

Still feeling feisty you reply with "Is that a threat or is that a promise? 😘😜" and Poppy just tells you to hurry up.

This is a really stupid idea - you think to yourself. You can't help but be suspicious of Poppy wanting to meet up, after all she can use this information against you. However none of that matters to your lust riddled brain, considering the last hook-up you've had was with Professor Kingsley and that was quite some time ago and you're really horny for some action.

You quickly dress in your best underwear, and choose something fashionable yet casual to wear because let's face it even if you hate Poppy, you don't want to look like a loser if you're gonna hook up.

Once you get there, you quickly make your way to the designated room that Poppy told you to go to. Knocking on the door, you're lowkey expecting Belvoire students to berate you, but once the door opens all you can see is Poppy.

Poppy is dressed in nothing but her underwear as she pulls you into the room. Feeling a bit awkward, you decide to break the ice by saying "I lowkey expected this to be some weird plan where you embarass me in front of your clique."

Poppy just looks at you and she scoffs as she says "As much as I hate you Farmsville, even I wouldn't stoop that low. Plus it's a crime to share nudes without a person's permission." You just look at her in disbelief jaw dropping as you take all of her in. I mean if you thought she looked good in the photos, then damn seeing it in real life was a different experience entirely

She notices that you're staring and she just flashes you a smirk and says "See something you like?" and all you want to do is wipe the smirk off her perfect face.

Stepping closer to Poppy, you make the first move and kiss her roughly, each kiss longer than the last and you can feel your heart pound as your nervousness dissipates and all you can focus on is the smell of Poppy's perfume and how it drives you wild. As well as how soft her skin feels against your hands and it's enough to drive you over the edge.

Poppy pulls away and you follow after her, annoyed by the fact that the kisses stopped. You can hear her pant as she struggles to breathe.

As soon as Poppy catches her breath, she says "I'm starting to feel under dressed so let's fix that shall we?" She pulls you towards the bed and she strips your clothing off, and you can't help but stare because holy shit this is actually happening. You start to wonder if you're dreaming until you feel Poppy kiss you again, this time slower and softer and you can't help the wistful sigh that escapes your lips.

You decide to take the lead until you hear Poppy say something. "Wait a minute Farmsville." You stop and listen because no matter how sexually frustrated you might be at the moment, consent is always important.

You wait patiently for her to start talking and she says "Don't make fun of me, but I've never known what an orgasm feels like." You can tell that she's flustered by the way she looks away and refuses to make eye contact.

Your eyes soften up and you kiss her gently on the neck and whisper "I guess that's something we can improve after tonight, but if you feel uncomfortable at any moment in time just tell me to stop." Surprised that you even cared about how she felt Poppy just nods her head softly at you.

"I'm gonna start touching you, okay Poppy?" you say your voice gentle, as you hope that it soothes her nerves. "Just relax and let me do the work, alright, I promise I won't hurt you." Poppy just shoots you a shy smile and your heart pounds because fuck that's the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen.

Kissing your way to her inner thighs, you can hear and feel her squirm against your touch. In order to keep her still, you place her hands on your hair and assure her that it's okay if she tugs on it. You place your hands on her hips to keep her steady as you tease and suck on her clit.

Poppy's small moans of contentment makes you want to do more, so you try extra hard because you want to hear more. You can feel Poppy's body begin to shudder and you can tell that she's close and spurred on by that you insert your fingers into her core and thrust until you can hear scream in pleasure.

You can't help but stare as her body starts to spasm and you let her grind so that she can climax again and it's the most erotic moment of your life.

Poppy feels her whole vision turn white for a moment and she feels euphoric once she realises that she came.

As soon as she regains her bearings, she turns to you, who looks very satisfied, and omg did she just see you lick her juices off your finger. That sends a wave of arousal straight to her core and she looks away embarrassed from being turned on again just a few seconds after coming.

You put your hand on her chin and turn her face towards you forcing her to make eye contact. "It's not over yet, Princess. I'm pretty sure that we can wriggle more of those out of you and the night is young." you say your voice dropping an octave.

By the time that you've finished, Poppy's mind has gone blank and she feels so tired that she doesn't think she can move. She's got to give you props though, because goddamn that was the first time she actually enjoyed sex and she actually got to cum too.

Noticing that Poppy's too tired to move, you decide to lift her up in a princess carry and surprised by your sudden action Poppy's about to protest until you just tell her to be quiet.

Placing Poppy in the bath tub, you turn on the faucet and makes sure that the water isn't too hot or cold as it fills up. After the bath has been filled you slip into the bathtub behind Poppy as you help her clean up.

'Okay now she's just being unfair, why is she being so nice.' Poppy thinks to herself. Trying to make conversation Poppy says "Why are you taking care of me, I half expected you to leave after we fucked." You rest you chin on her shoulder and say "I didn't want you to catch a cold, and besides what kind of a person would I be if I just left you on your own? I like to think of myself as a gentlewoman." You start to place soft kisses on her shoulders and Poppy just sighs wistfully, feeling at peace as she leans back against you. "Don't tell anyone but this was actually the most fun I've had. Hell I don't think any of my exes would have compared against you." Poppy says shyly.

You can't help the smile that creeps it's way to your face. "You can't say shit like that Poppy, I'm pretty sure you're gonna give me a heart attack if you act this soft." you say teasing lilt in your voice and you can hear Poppy giggle. It sounds so soft and you realise that it's a sound that you want to hear.

Your relationship as enemies with benefits start and the both of you can't really keep your hands off each other, God forbid if you're in the same room.

Intense stares from across the room that everyone assumes to be glares, but little do they know that it's your own way of communicating.

One day Poppy calls you up and tells you that you're going shopping, but in reality it was just an excuse to spend more time with you. On the way to the mall, you guys get frisky in the car and before you can stop yourself you say "Babe" and you can't help but think that you've fucked up.

Poppy doesn't say anything but she likes the new pet name and can't wait to hear you say it again.

You guys go to a high end designer store and one of the staff approaches you and says "You guys look good together." While you're quick to deny it, Poppy just thanks them, but as she hears you deny it her eyes widen and you can see her heart break in front of your eyes. Poppy runs off and you're confused.

The employee looks at you and says "I probably shouldn't say anything else today but you should go after her. It's obvious that you both like each other."

Searching the mall, you're relieved once you see Poppy sitting down on a bench, and you approach her carefully. You see that her eyes are red and you feel shitty because you're the reason why she's crying.

Poppy notices you and she's about to run off again until you catch her wrist in your hand. "Poppy please look at me." you plead and she doesn't budge as she tries to get away from your grip.

Seeing that she can't outrun you considering you're holding onto her she just sighs and looks at you. Her face is covered in tears and you use your other hand to wipe them away.

"You know after you called me babe in the car, I was so happy because I thought that it meant that we were dating, but I guess I was just another girl for you to fuck." Poppy says and your heart breaks.

"I thought that you didn't like me that way, so I quickly denied that we were dating. I do like you Poppy, but you never made it clear that we were in a relationship. Though to be fair I should have tried to clear things up too. I guess we're both idiots huh?" You say as you hold her face between your hands.

Leaning in you capture Poppy's lips and she eagerly kisses you back, happy to resolve the misunderstanding.

Unbeknownst to the both of you a Belvoire student caught everything on camera and by the next day everyone on campus knows that you guys are dating.

No one dares to say anything because uhhh POWER COUPLE and they're highly scared of Poppy killing them lol.

Long story short Poppy sees your tinder account and you compete for better thirst traps and well you start fucking and it ends up with you two dating.

Well that was long, hope you guys enjoy, don't forget to like or reblog if you like it.

#playchoices #poppy min sinclair #queen b #poppy x mc #poppydailychallenge #choices #makepoppyali2020 #queen b poppy #choices stories you play #tinder au #veronica lombardi #chloe st. james #headcanons #choices fic #i hope y'all enjoy reading #these is just my take on the Poppy tinder au that anon asked @somewillwin #squint squint #veronica x mc but its one sided bc mc is only interested in poppy

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :( :(

rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

#fffr #wincest #weecest #first time #long fic #my writing #--seriously this one also went too long #but idk it felt right this way

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onmywaytobe · 4 years

Text

Rejected Lines From My WIP

In celebration of my WIP Descendants of the Earth nearly being done, I’m going to be posting lines that I cut from the book as I was editing that I wanted to do something with. Most of the time, they were OOC, or they were too repetitive, or too purple prose-y.

So here they are for you to enjoy! Hope this is enough to whet your appetite while you wait for me to publish it somewhere y’all can read it... some of these are pretty wacky out of context so I guess you’ll have to just stay tuned for the final book so you can find out wtf is going on

Chapter 1

He hated the feeling. It happened to him often enough that he was used to it, but that didn’t make him like it any more.

Chapter 3

There was no sound but the crickets and the occasional frog as his friend disappeared into the deepening gloom.

Chapter 5

He was having enough fun that he had nearly been able to get his mind off of his father. He thought back to all of the long, sudden “business trips” Sam would take and wondered how many other missions he’d gone on for Brian Percival.

Chapter 9

He caught Margot and Logan’s voices the most, but couldn’t make out what they said. Owen started to worry. Am I dying? he wondered.

Chapter 11

They resembled little more than an undershirt and a loose pair of shorts, both cut from odd tan fabric. Cam of course looked like a model with all his bulging muscles, and Owen felt slightly self-conscious next to him, though less so when he looked at the other boys who wore the same thing.

Chapter 12

Cam gestured down to his leg, which was wrapped in a bandage made from fabric strips torn from his shirt. His toned stomach was now exposed, but that seemed a small price to pay for covering his burned flesh.

Chapter 13

Owen wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but as no one had a better one, they all began to prepare for an attack the following night.

Chapter 15

“Leave that to me,” Logan interjected. “I think I know a way around that.”

Owen frowned at Logan’s eagerness, but he supposed that if he were trying to prove his loyalty as a reformed bad guy he would also be eager for chances to help. The one thing that bothered him was that Logan hadn’t already gotten a car for them at the airport.

“Would you just tell us what the plan is already?” Owen said impatiently. “I wouldn’t keep interrupting if you just went a little faster,” he explained, seeing Margot was about to tell him off.

“I was just getting to it!” she exclaimed, but continued on a bit more quickly.

Cam looked slightly surprised that Owen was so confidently making a plan, and Owen was honestly a little surprised at himself, but he carried on.

Owen was starting to feel hopeful again, and it looked like Margot and Cam were feeling it too. Logan was the only one who still seemed dour, but that was his normal disposition.

Chapter 16

He felt like he could fly. He wanted to jump above the trees, touch the sun. He nearly tried, but common sense stopped him before he did anything too ridiculous. He had forgotten his mission and his friends, so absorbed was he with this newfound sensation of power.

There was altogether too much mountain behind him now.

It hit him in a sort of anticlimactic way how his life had become unbelievably strange.

Chapter 17

Owen wondered how he could take something so magical for granted. Yes, the sun went down every day, but what an exit it made! And every day would be different. Every sunset he saw was a sunset he had never seen before and would never see again. Something about this sunset hit him hard, left him feeling like his soul was gasping for breath. He felt reinvigorated to take on the world and keep on swinging.

Owen was unable to describe the sensation of Fire using words, he just knew that Cam was looking in the wrong place.

Chapter 18

But he’d made it this far; he wasn’t going to stop trying now. Mostly because he didn’t have much of a choice if he ever wanted to get back to civilization.

Chapter 19

When they had the ability to make anyone breathe underwater…

Owen turned away quickly to hide his grin. He didn’t want to scare Logan off with too much newfound camaraderie.

Now that they had stopped moving, Owen realized just how tired he was. The deep, heavy sort of tired that weighed down his bones. The sort of tired that pinned him down and when he blinked he forgot how to open his eyes for a moment. The trials of the last few days hit him all at once and he stumbled, grabbing onto Cam’s shoulder for support.

“I think we should rest,” he managed.

Cam nodded, drawing his arm across Owen’s waist to keep him upright. “Yeah, we can work out an escape plan tomorrow.” Margot didn’t look particularly tired, but she agreed nonetheless. Logan, too, was starting to fade, now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Cam helped Owen into the cave, and the moment his head hit the sand, he was out.

Chapter 20

They started back at camp. It was eerily quiet, none of the vibrant life and laughter that Owen had become accustomed to during his time there. He stood by the flagpole, turning in place to catch a glimpse of something, anything normal.

Lucas Mallory marched out of the dining hall, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He was wearing a long black cloak for some reason, and trailing behind him was Simon, who was looking much better than the last time he’d been with Owen. He was paler than usual, and his arm was wrapped in a sling, but he was upright. Clearly the Darkness had some kind of healing power over wounds inflicted by shades. Owen glared at the two of them and tried to go stomping over to confront them, but his feet felt glued in place. He was simply an observer, not allowed to interfere.

“Cabins! Roll call!” Lucas barked, his voice unnaturally amplified. Simon looked bored as campers hurried out of their cabins and stood in shaky lines. Owen had never realized how small a group of eighty kids could look until he saw them like this. He scowled as Lucas and Simon stalked down the lines. Most of the campers averted their eyes, but some, like Fabian, were giving the two of them death glares.

Owen’s heart leaped into his throat when he saw the Fire Head Boy. Fabian looked tired, and he had a black eye. The more he looked, the more Owen noticed campers with various injuries, more severe than the normal scrapes and bruises that came with balancing. He wasn’t left wondering why for very long– as Simon shoved an Earth boy roughly into place, someone with a bandaged hand stepped into his way. Lucas backhanded the boy, sending him sprawling to the ground. As he lifted himself to his feet, groaning, Owen recognized the boy as George.

“Careful, Mr. Evans,” Lucas Mallory purred. “You don’t want to end up like your friend Ms. Wallace, do you?”

Wallace? Owen didn’t know anyone with that last name. But as he looked around frantically, he realized that he didn’t see Diana anywhere. Oh no... What have they done to her?

Once again, Owen tried to pull himself free and rush towards Lucas and Simon as they continued through the ranks, but he was sucked into another dream.

He watched as several people in dark clothes ran past, trying to get away from a tornado that was hot on their heels. He was suddenly very glad that he and his friends never had to face anything like that to get the Air Ring, and realized what he was seeing was not in order.

One of the Darkness’s followers was unfortunate enough to be pulled into the sky with a scream, but another raised their hand and forced the tornado to take another path.

Chapter 21

It was one thing to go to the Darkness, and quite another for him to know they were there.

#dote #dote rewrite #my writing #owen #cam #margot #logan #long post #my favorite lines are the ones i cut bc i was too damn thirsty for cam lmao #also some of these are more like scenes and less like lines whoops #diana #simon #forgot they had tags too

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nightowlfandom · 5 years

Text

Park Jimin- Treat You Right.

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE (Pssstt, I also do some anime stuff too wink wink)

EDIT-Thank you to @asanjms for the awesome title suggestion!!!

Also I'm looking for ideas for a AU series, any suggestions would help out a lot.

Also feel free to drop me a chat thingy if you wanna talk! I’m always looking for new friends. Also if you’re on Duolingo, make sure you do your lessons today!

...

"Are you sure I'm not intruding?" You asked shyly. A bad breakup had left you too distracted to realize that the repairmen were going to be working on your apartment all week. Sleeping in a half fixed house didn't seem so practical.

Yes, a bad breakup, which was two weeks ago. It ended that badly.

"Of course Y/N!" Hoseok pat your shoulders. "You should have asked us sooner."

You looked down, guilt streaming through your face. You hated making people worry, especially your friends. It was a habit you tried to break. Well, they were all almost your friends. In all honesty you were sure Jimin didn't care where you ended up or how you got there. He had been glaring at you all evening. His sharp eyes pierced the side of your head. Well, you didn't 100 percent ask him if he hated you, but you were sure he did!.

"I promise the minute my apartment is all fixed you won't see me for the rest of the month." you mumbled, 'guilt' slapped across your forehead...or at least it should have been.

"Y/N stop. It really is okay." Jin sat by you. "We love you, of course we aren't gonna leave you in the dust!." he scoffed. "Just hope you don't mind messes." he chuckled.

"Ummm I guess not." you shrugged, smiling shyly. You stared down at your nails, feeling a bit at ease. "Um...where exactly can I sleep?"

"We'll figure that out, but for now you make yourself at home!" Namjoon instructed. "If anything you'll take one of ours and we'll sleep in another room. Unless you're okay with sharing a room with one of us." You noticed Jimin stalking away. He probably had an annoyed look on his face. You'd probably be too. You relaxed, allowing yourself to breathe. It was times like this you were thankful for your friends.

"That's perfectly fine." you said quietly, not wanting anyone to change their comfort in short supply of you.

...

"What are you doing up?" an annoyed looking Jimin found you leaning against the counter in the kitchen. You looked up, a string of instant noodles hung from your lip, making him raise his brow. You nervously stared back down, embarrassment tracing your every move.

"I'm hungry." you focused back down on your food. Didn't know eating was a problem with him now. "Is that okay with you?" you mumbled under your breath.

Either he did hear you and didn't care to ask you to repeat yourself or maybe he did hear and chose to ignore you. "So, heard it didn't end well with your boyfriend...what gives?"

You shut your eyes. Don't you DARE start crying. Not in front of Jimin, anyone but him. Well the other boys were all out doing who knows what... so you couldn't cry period. If your now ex-boyfriend didn't see you cry at that moment then re-imagining it shouldn't do shit.

"Hey...are you crying?" he walked closer. You turned away from him, furiously wiping your eyes. Your sleeve was wet...DAMNIT, DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY NOT TO CRY?!

"No, not at all!" you kept your voice surprisingly even. "You must be seeing things."

"Hey." you felt a pat on your shoulder which made a tingle shoot up your spine. "You are crying...Y/N...what happened." he said in a warning tone.

"I said it's fine Jimin." you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"And I say bullshit." he huffed. "Something's obviously eating at you." he made you face him.

"I caught him cheating okay?! The girl he was with dumped coffee on me...and dumped her plate of who knows what on me too" you snapped. "...then she took a picture of me, claiming she was gonna post it. Is that what you wanted to hear?" you clenched your teeth to keep from wavering too much. "Then he said I was a fool and that I was a pity-test."

Everyone in that place legit stared at you as the two walked out. The manager of the restaurant had taken you to the employee bathrooms to help you. Thank good that coffee wasn't hot. They even let you use the employee back door to leave so you wouldn't have to face the crowd again. Since that day everything's just been....shit

"Y/N." Jimin's voice softened.

"Forget it." you put your eating utensil down. "It's done and over with." You suddenly felt your hand being grabbed. You stared down at Jimin's hand, which covered yours gingerly.

"It most certainly isn't done and over with." he sighed. "Why didn't you tell any of us sooner?!"

You glared at him, hearing his words.

"Don't say 'us' like you would have cared to help console me!" you huffed. "Don't use 'us' as if you would have had any part in helping me either." you glared at Jimin, secretly wishing you had the Medusa stare.

"Y/N you're being ridiculous." he sighed, his cold stare from earlier returning.

"Am I?! I seem to remember being the target for your hateful stares and snide comments towards me. Ever since I became friends with Namjoon, you've been staring at me like I don't belong anywhere near you." you ranted. "I'm not being ridiculous...I'm being honest."

"How would you know I'm glaring at you? Unless you've been paying really close attention to me." he raised a brow. "Unless you've found a way to stare at my face without me knowing. You don't know about my emotions either, Y/N."

Oh no...you were caught!

"Uh...well it's not hard to notice." you stammered. "Y-you're not hard to miss."

"Oh really?" a cocky grin made it's way to your face. "Am I making you nervous Y/N? Do you like me or something?"

"Me?!? No!" you lied. "Shut up! D-dummy." you stared down at your feet. Pfft not like you liked him or anything and convinced yourself to hate him! “Just leave me alone, please.”

"Y/N...why did you start dating that guy." he asked. "Be honest.."

"A little thing called Parents Who Want to Control Every Aspect of My Life "you replied. "They made me get with him." you shook your head. "If I tell my parents...they'll say it was my fault he cheated- Why am I telling you any of this?! Not like you care." you rolled your eyes, about to walk past him.

You heard the front door slam and loud laughter follow.

"Hey Y/N, hey Jimin!" Jin met you two in the kitchen. "Hey Y/N. I wanted to talk to you about where you're gonna sleep. Jungkook's room is a mess, Taehyung snores-"

"She can share with me." you heard Jimin interrupt before walking out the kitchen. Wait, what?! No! Hold on! What type of-

...

"We're only sharing a bed. It isn't the end of the world." Jimin sat shirtless on his bed, tapping away at his phone screen. He looked up at you standing by the bathroom door. You were scared for dear life. Sharing a bed...with Jimin no less! Wtf?!

"Well I've never shared a bed with anyone other than my parents and that was when I was nine years old and scared to sleep alone." you rebutted. "Give me a minute okay?"

"Sure."

You stared at the empty spot next to him. Okay, this was it. Awkwardly, you walked over, sitting at the edge of the bed. You stared down at your feet, taking deep and seemingly troubled breaths. Was your love life really meant for this? Nothing more than...how could you even say it.

"You plan on going to sleep any time soon?" you heard a voice mumble. It was only then you really had the urge to have a snack.

You remembered Jungkook had found your favorite dessert and bought it for you. You wanted it...now.

"Nope!" you got up, trotting out of the room. "I want something sweet!" you skipped off. Dessert here you come!

Okay now you were super sleepy. You had just finished your food and were struggling to keep your eyes open as you got to Jimin's room. Sleep, sleepy, sleepy.

You groaned as you landed on the bed. It was a lot harder if a surface than you thought. Not mention there was a certain rise and then dip where your head was.

"Jimin, has anyone told you that you have a very uncomfortable bed?" you yawned, trying your best to get comfortable. "How do you sleep like this?"

"Well, I usually start by actually being on the bed." you heard from right below you. That comment caused you to look up, seeing Jimin's face right in front of you and you looked down to find yourself laid against his torso.

"Oh shit." you suddenly said. "I am so sorry!" you got off of him. "I was sleepy and your shirt blended in with the sheets!"

"Oh really?" he smirked, leaning up on his elbow. "You don't have to be scared of me baby."

"Me? Scared?! I'M NOT SC-" you were cut off by his chuckling. "Not like I have a thing for you or anything pfftt."

"Don't lie to me Y/N, and don't pretend that wasn't on purpose." he whispered. "Come here."

You were suddenly pinned onto your back to your surprise and partial delight.

"That was an accident." you said, feeling your head spin.

"Sure it was." he chuckled. "Maybe if that asshole couldn't treat you right, maybe I can."

Before you could reply, Jimin hovered his mouth over yours. His hand moved up under your shirt. “Do you want me to treat you real nice, Y/N.”

‘J-Jimin.” You said lowly, wanting to be quiet. As if taken by something, a completely different Jimin brushed stray hairs from your face.

“You’re beautiful you know that?”

“Huh?” you were taken by surprise at his words. Jimin’s head dipped into the divet of your collarbone. His lips traced a line alone your chest, leaving what felt like a burning trail along your skin.

“We can’t be too loud, we might wake the boys.” he said urgently. “B-but I-...” he pecked your lips multiple times, each little kiss getting longer and longer. “I want to-” he cut himself off with another peck to your lips. “I want to make you forget about him.”

Wordlessly, you tugged at the hem of Jimin’s shirt. There was no use in trying to act like you hated him anymore. Deciding you were impatient, you straddled Jimin’s body, looking down at him. His warm hands trailed up and down your waist.

“I knew you liked me” he winked.

“Oh shush.” you pouted, leaning down to kiss him again.

(cock block bitches ha!)

...

You sat at the restaurant table, tapping your fingers against your drinking glass. Your mind was quite literally wandering about, thinking about absolutely nothing important.

"Y/N" you you perked your head up to find your ex-boyfriend staring down at you. "Is that you?"

"Hm, Hey." you crossed your arms, raising to your feet. "Fancy seeing you here." you perked up a brow. His eyes trailed down your body, he'd never seen you dressed like this before. The way you wanted to dress when you were with him but never got to.

That girl...the one who humiliated you was behind him, clinging onto his arm seemingly for dear life.

"Yeah. You look...amazing." he bit his lip. "Really."

"I'm aware." you raised an eyebrow, causing a few passing waitresses to erupt in a giggling fit. He looked real dumb. "Wish I could say the same." you raised an eyebrow, making him laugh.

"C-could I buy you a drink?" he asked, prompting that girl to slap his arm and glare at you even harder.

"Sorry, she's with someone." a voice spoke from behind you. You turned to find Jimin walking up, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Hey beautiful."

You noticed both of them looked like they've been hit with a truck. Shocked as hell.

"You got over me that quick?" he looked slightly mad.

"You're not that hard to forget about." Jimin laughed. "Come on, Y/N. It smells like trash in here." he grabbed your hand.

"Later." you waved to the girl who looked even more upset. "Really? 'Trash' " you giggled once you two got outside.

"I could have said something else." he shrugged. “Now...you’re place or mine” he winked.

“You’re a mess” you rolled your eyes, chuckling.

“You love it.” he winked.

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peter-pan-on-neverland · 5 years

Text

Not As Bad As He Seems

Request: Heii!!!!<3 if you got time, would you write how Felix is scaring every girl on neverland but you so every girl is like "wtf how" and respect you and then you date him and fluff

Pairings: Felix x reader

Warnings: fluffy and kinda suggestive but no sexy times :)

Looking across the camp my eyes settle on the flames of the roaring fire, red and orange swirls licking the starry night sky. However, it wasn't the twisted flames I was interested in, it was the person behind them, the only other boy in camp that people fear besides the leader, Felix. His broad shoulders sunk down as he slouched on the rough log, the flames from the fire casting his face in a golden glow. Shaggy blond hair lay aimlessly over his ice like eyes while they stared into the flames which danced together, my eyes slowly travelled down the scar that was permnetally etched into his soft skin like a tattoo as it cut into his sharp cheek bones. Casually, he rested his big wooden club over his shoulder giving him a whole 'bad boy' demeanor, to which he certainly lived up to the expectation of.

Most, if not all, of the girls in camp feared him and although he could joke and have fun with the boys they still respected him as if he were no different to Pan.

Everything about him was perfect, the way he acted so confident around everyone else, but I could see the truth and pain behind those blue eyes and I wanted to change it.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed Felix's cold eyes now lingered on me, the ghost of a smile haunted his pink lips as we stared at each other from across the fire, I wanted time to stand still. Oh, what I would give to be in this moment forever.

"Y/n" someone yelled, trying to grasp my attention.

Forcing a smile, I made myself look away from the mysterious boy and to whoever it was that was calling my name. I found Rececca standing in front of me, her light brown hair tied up into a bun as she held her hands behind her frilly white night gown.

"Yes?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um..." she said, quickly glancing over at Felix before he eyes returned to me "I'm going to warn you, stay away from Felix."

If she had said that about any other lost boy I would've thought it was a pathetic attempt at a threat to try and scare me into 'staying away from her man' but the fear the clouded behind her green eyes suggested otherwise.

"And why would I do that?" I cockily replied.

"What if" she says before pausing, turning in a full circle to see if anyone was listening in while she leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper "What if he tries to hurt you, or worse, kill you."

I couldn't contain the giggle that so desperately wanted to come out of my mouth, my e/c eyes almost tearing up.

"You think Felix will kill me?" I laughed, rolling my eyes "please."

"You're really not afraid of him?" She asked, curiously dripping off every word.

I stopped laughing at that point, debating in my head if this was a real question or not.

"No" I said while standing up "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go to bed."

My feet lead me in the direction of my tent, quietly I giggled to myself once more as I entered my dark home. I considered lighting a candle but decided against it as I would just blow it our in a couple of second anyway, making it a waist of a match.

Slowly, I slipped my clothes off of my body, leaving me almost exposed, apart from my bra and panties before climbing into my soft bed and letting my head hit the fluffy pillow. Wrapping myself up in warm blankets I let blissful sleep take over my body.

I woke up to the unpleasant feeling of being shaken awake by something, no someone. Lazily, I shot up out of the comfort of my bed, ready to fight the intruder, pinning them to the floor before opening my dreary eyes.

"Felix?" I asked in a stated of shock and tiredness "What are you doing in my tent?"

"You mean my tent?" He asked with a smirk as his hands were still pinned over his head.

Slowly lifting my head up I looked around the candle lit room, the blond boy laughing at me as he watched the colour drain from my face.

This was not my tent.

"You're welcome to stay the night if you really want to." He suggested in a shy tone as his face turned a deep shade of red, not at all what I would expect from him "I mean I don't think you really want to run across camp in just your pants."

Now it was my turn to be flustered as I looked down at my overly exposed skin, only just realising now what position we were in. Quickly, I got off of him and scrambled to my feet.

"Y-you're right" I stuttered with a face redder than a tomato "I don't want to go out like this."

The logical thing to do in this moment would be to put my clothes back on and walk back to my tent, we both knew it but nether of us wanted me to do it. So instead I took him up on his offer, once again climbing under the heaven like quilt of his bed while he blew out the small candle which was placed on his bedside table before following my action.

Immediately, I tenced up as I felt his soft skin brush against mine, his finger tips lightly brushing over my arm was enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall. I turned around so that my back was facing him, making it more comftorle but I was still as stiff as a board.

"Relax." He whispered, his hot breath slowly walked down my neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into his warm chest.

Thanking whatever God there was out there that it was too dark for him to see the enormous blush the bloomed on my cheeks.

After a while of quietly lying here, I heard light snores drift from the boy who was now hugging me. While letting my eyes fall close.

When I woke up Felix wasn't there any more, leaving a cold empty space on the bed where he had once lay. Gentally running my hand on the now empty space as I sat up before pulling my clothes back over my body and walking out, hoping and praying that no one would see me leave Felix's tent.

Quietly I tip toed out, silently cheering with delight at my victory, before I smashed into something hard.

"Hello love" Pan loomed over me his arms folded over his chest he a cocky grin permnetally etched onto his face "And what are you doing sneaking out of my second in command tent at the early hours of the morning?"

"I-its not what it looks like" I stuttered blushing at the idea which was planted into the leaders head.

With a sadistic laugh he raised an eyebrow, peering down at my tiny frame "don't worry, you're little secrets safe with me I promise." The said before strutting away.

"Sure it is" I sarcastically mumbled to myself before dusting myself off and making my way to where we have target practice.

A few boys were already standing around and talking, Felix being one amoung that group. He smiled and laughed along with the boys he considered his brothers, his eyes almost strunching up as joyful tears threatened to spill out of them. Once the red faced boys calmed down, some wiping a few stray tear from there eyes, Felix's cold eyes met mine.

He began walking over to me, leading me aside from the group of rowdy teenagers. With his large hand on my shoulder, the looked down at me, making me feel as small as a mouse.

"I'm sorry about leaving this morning." He spoke in a hushed tone, making sure no one could hear.

"It's fine." I smiled up at the tall boy "besides I'm not your girlfriend, you don't need to apologise for anything."

His facial expression changed from happy to.... hurt?

However, his sudden change in mood left as quickly as it came, going back to the same emotionless lost boy that he was before. Bit his eyes remain the same, that broken look lingered behind them like a ghost in mist.

"What's wron-" but before I could even finish my sentence the king of Neverland decided to talk.

"Listen up everyone!" He boomed "We're going to play a game!"

Everyone erupted in cheers, letting their excitement get the better of them, even me. My e/c eyes slowly slid to the side looking at the second in command, his face didn't change, he didn't even flinch at the news.

"Ok settle down!" Pan said, the whole island turning silent "we're going to have a treasure hunt. Get into partners and take a map, the first person the get the treasure wins."

Some of the girls buddies up with each other, the rest going with the lost boy that they liked which you could imagine caused some problems. Looking around for someone to parents up with I found that there was no one left and so did Felix, leaving us standing there, looking at each other.

"Well" he said, is time as sharp as a blade "I guess I'm with you then."

"Yeah..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is part one! I'm sorry it took longer than I had expected to post this but I hope you like it so far! 😊

Also I am very grateful for everyone's support and although I am not replying to all of the lovely messages that you guys are sending me I want you to know that they mean so much to me, so thank you to each and every one of you. I love you 😘❤ xx

@britishfangirl

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murfeelee · 6 years

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Shadowhunters - RANT ALERT

lifeasasim replied to your photoset “Yasumi no Edo - Pt2c ( Tōkyō Dizunīrando no Hanabi) The special…”

WHY TF ARE THEY CANCELING THE SHOWWWW

Because Freeform’s too dang stupid to know not to bite the hand that feeds it, that’s why!

These articles (X X) are giving me ulcers. I can’t believe this is happening. I just can’t. They’re cancelling my show. We won’t get Season 4.

They’re stopping Season 3B at City of Heavenly Fire, and not adapting the other books. So does this mean no Malec adopting their sons? No Malec proposal? No Malec wedding? Are y’all serious right now?

They had the nerve to push back the airing of Season 3B -- Todd & co. had originally said that it would air this August, but that tweet was deleted hella fast, and now they’re saying 3B won’t air till Spring 2019! JESUS! O_O First that long hiatus waiting for 3A, and now this!? Waiting a whole year for a show that’s gonna be cancelled right after 3B finally airs!? WTF!?

So, what am I supposed to do -- sit here and stew in my depression!?

This is hell.

This is LITERAL HELL, people.

I’m so mad at Freeform & Netflix, I don’t even have the words. It’s corporate shenanigans and power plays, plain and simple. Netflix didn’t get what they wanted, Freeform couldn’t see a good deal staring them right in the frikkin face, so the whole thing blew up with the show being cancelled over sheer pettiness and greed.

We had SO MUCH MORE to look forward to! And now they’re gonna squeeze everything into 3B and call it done!? Cassandra Clare is still writing! We got 2 new big bads in the Shadow World to look forward to, with Malcolm Fade and the Unseelie King! That was gonna be AWESOME! And Cassie’s releasing an entire book about Malec! THE MATERIAL~~~! U_U

Why can’t Freeform just fork over the licensing rights and give the show over to a company that actually wants to work with it?!

Freeform didn’t promote Shadowhunters at all. I can't tell y'all how many ads I’ve passed by every day while riding the train to for their new show Cloak & Dagger -- I kept mistaking the white-haired girl in the photos for Danaerys Targaryen (which I know they’re doing on purpose, effing click bait). I saw a few for Siren, too. But in all these years though I have NOT ONCE seen a single ad for Shadowhunters while walking around in NYC. NOT ONE.

Apparently Netflix & some other networks I think were advertising the show internationally (where the bulk of the fanbase is located), and kudos to them or whatever, but at this point, I don’t even want Netflix to pick up Shadowhunters; they’re the petty arsewipes who pulled the funding in the first place! I’d prefer some other network like Hulu, The CW, or MTV get it, tbh.

People were speculating that maybe HBO or SyFy could take it, but I don’t really think either of those are viable options. I mean...lbr SyFy’s not exactly known for making that many very good original shows.... >_>

Shadowhunters started off real crunchy in Season 1 (everything from the CG to the directing/writing to the acting was very amateur), and idek if SyFy could keep up the upward momentum and higher quality that Season 2 and especially S03A delivered. And on that same note, I doubt HBO would want it, not when they’ve got powerhouses like Game of Thrones over there doing The Most and making that bookoo money.

But at this point, I don’t even care. Networks save the shows they want to save. Even if a zillion fans scream and shout bloody murder, if the showrunners & co don’t get those coins rolling in, the show will be dropped like a hot potato. Gold. Just thrown down the drain. They don’t care about anyone but themselves.

Burke said the network is at peace with the decision ... “They delivered what the fans wanted...I remember being at Comic-Con and seeing the excitement for the show and thinking, ‘This could be our Supernatural,'” referring to the genre staple that the CW just renewed for its 14th season.

Yeah, YOU THOUGHT. Supernatural’s on it’s 666th frikkin season, meanwhile Freeform couldn't find its own arse with both hands in broad daylight to do anything to keep promoting the show and get the funds and support to renew it for Season 4!

This all just blows my mind though. Shadowhunters is THE most popular (and frankly, only RELEVANT) show on Freeform. It’s been carrying the network this whole time! How do they not have the money!? Malec literally singlehandedly won them a dang GLAAD award!

And you know what KILLS ME is that not only are they taking away the show, but they’re depriving me of one of my all-time favorite fictional characters EVER.

My beautiful, freewheeling bisexual Asian High Warlock of Brooklyn. That flawless bish, that sexy beast, that campy queen, that quite magical wonderful beautiful waking dream of a man.

Harry’s portrayal of Magnus is just dripping in charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent; I can’t. And to be BRUTALLY honest, Magnus is the only reason I kept watching the show. Harry Shum Jr was holding it down in Season 1 -- if it wasn't for him acting the roof off in every single scene, I wouldn’t have kept watching at all. Season 1 wasn’t that good, and that’s the T.

I didn’t like most of the other characters. I hated every single Shadowhunter -- including Alec (Izzy was hot though), and if Valentine wasn’t a racist bigot I’d be on his side and be like: just kill all these Shadowhunters, girl, bye~~!

So it just shocks me to my core that Freeform would make a move like this. Malec carried that whole show. No one cares about Clace. Climon was anathema. Sia’s cute and all, but lbr everyone’s sitting on pins & needles just waiting for Sizzy to rise. Only reason I even heard of this show was because a bunch of the fanfic authors & fan-artists I’m subscribed to at AO3 started writing Malec fics, which I was skipping over at first, but then the fandom blogs I follow here on Tumblr kept reblogging The Wedding scene, and I was like WTF IS THIS.

The most iconic episode of Shadowhunters was literally titled MALEC! XD Freeform, you had GOLD! DIAMONDS. Recognition. Representation. Stupid.

This whole cancellation controversy smells like network stunts and shows. They’re doing this on purpose. And during PRIDE MONTH, no less. WOW. How skeevy can y'all get?

I’m thoroughly disgusted.

So, yeah. That’s the state of things right now. I'M VENTING.

I’m just very upset, because Malec is one of my top favorite ships. But regardless of whether the show is killed off for good or not, I’m gonna keep posting my TS3 Malec Gameplays, the same way I do for my Nagron Gameplays (Spartacus ended in like 2013, and I’m still here, so.... :P ).

I’m just apologizing in advance to all my followers both here and at my Personal blog and Wishes blog -- I’m gonna be reblogging a lot of posts, to do my part in keeping #SaveShadowhunters trending as much as I can during this year effing long hiatus. So if those who follow me don’t care about all this...oh well.

#saveshadowhunters #pickupshadowhunters #shadowhunters #malec #LGBTQIA #replies #RANT ALERT #saltier than a cup of cup noodles

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kreacts · 7 years

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Ancestors Curse [NCT]

So, to be honest, I have no clue what this is about. NCT are there as witches, though this chapter focuses just on NCT Dream with an appearance by Taeyong. The boys are being plagued by nightmares and are determined to fight back in any way they can, this chapter is just to get the ball rolling. I’ll write more if people want me to, but I’m not even sure if people want to read it so we shall see! :’)

Word Count: 3461

Inspired by this Pinterest post!

We are the granddaughters of all the witches you failed to burn…

“Hm, I dunno, it sounds a bit threatening to me,”

“There’s also the little fact that we are not girls, and it was our grandads that were magical. Change witches to warlocks,”

“Hey! You don’t know if your grandpa called himself a witch, don’t make these sweeping statements,”

“Ugh, guys, this really isn’t helping fix this,”

“Fix it? There’s nothing wrong with it!” Jisung slammed the pen down onto his table and bunched back in his seat, arms crossed, lips pouty. “None of you would tell me what to write, and this was all that came up on my google search! If you think you can do better, then do it yourself.”

Five pairs of wide eyes all turned to face Jisung, the group lapsing into silence. Each person glanced around the circle feeling uneasy for a moment before-

“I’m just saying, we need to at least change it to grandsons,” Renjun pointed at the paper with an eyebrow raised, giving Jisung a disbelieving look. Jisung’s response to the question was to stick out his tongue and turn his head away, making Mark sigh.

“I think we should just take this as a sign that we shouldn’t do this,” Jeno spoke quietly, reaching into the centre of the circle to pick up the pen. “I wasn’t really feeling that comfortable with it to begin with,” Jeno bit his lip and glanced around the circle, not sure if the other boys would get annoyed.

Mark smiled back at Jeno. He was always glad Jeno was part of their coven. He was the quiet, peaceful member the group needed when everyone else got worked up and angry, and right now he was the only person speaking sense.

“What’s not to feel comfortable about? His family are murderers, Jeno. Murderers,” Chenle leaned across the circle, his lips turned down in a frown. He hadn’t been as invested in this when the idea was first suggested, but now he had thought about it, he wanted to go through with it more and more. Perhaps he was most invested because he was the most horrified about the dreams the group had been receiving. “What we’re asking is nothing compared to what they deserve to pay.”

Mark reached across the circle to squeeze Chenle’s knee but the younger boy just pushed his hand away, turning his face from the circle. He just looked so sad, his face was still stained with the tears he had shed when he’d recounted his last dream. When Jisung reached out to hold Chenle’s hand the boy tried to tug away, but the younger boy held his grip firm and Chenle eventually gave up, turning to lean against his friends arm.

Seeing Chenle’s misery and defeat was one of the worst things about this whole situation. Jeno was used to communicating with other beings, Renjun’s family seemed to attract ghosts so they couldn’t bother him, Haechan knew a lot about the spirit world and Mark regularly summoned spirits to practice his magic. But Chenle and Jisung had no experience with other forces acting on their life. It was only lucky Jisung hadn’t been visited by any haunting dreams, too.

“Maybe we should ask Jaemin for help?” Jeno spoke tentatively, knowing it was a touchy subject to bring up their other coven member.

“Jaemin isn’t here, Jeno. We have to figure this out ourselves,” It was Haechan who was the first to snap, breaking the silence that had fallen on the group. Jeno opened his mouth to speak, paused, then frowned. It just wasn’t worth it. They were all missing Jaemin. Even though they got letters from their friend, it just wasn’t the same as him being here.

“You’re right. Forget I said anything…”

“I think maybe we should come back at this tomorrow. Get some sleep, ah-“ Mark paused when Chenle turned to glare at him. He smiled briefly, sorry for his choice of words, but kept going. “Right now we’re tired and freaked out, we just need to take a break. Unless anyone has any ideas?”

“Actually,” Renjun’s lips puckered as he leant forward, placing his hands on the ground before him. He looked around the circle quickly before settling his eyes on Mark. “I’ve been thinking about it. Why us? Our ancestors could have contacted our parents for help, they definitely would have had more of a reason to help. None of us met our grandparents, right?”

No one corrected him.

“If they were that angry, they wouldn’t have waited for us to get revenge when they had our parents, and our brothers. And I really don’t think they care about money, they’re dead. And we’re all doing fine enough,”

“Then why send the dreams?” Haechan asked, resting his elbow on his knee before dropping his head into his hand. Just like Chenle, he was looking exhausted, with purple bags under his eyes and skin that was tinted grey. “They’ve been going on for two months now for me, what’s the point?”

“None of us even knew about it before,” Jisung commented, glancing up. He had been silent for a while, torn. His best friend was suffering worse than most of them so he wanted to do anything to help, but he really had no clue what would help. “Maybe they just want us to know them.”

“You think they’re torturing us to give us some family lessons?” Sarcasm dripped from Haechan’s words but the younger boy just ignored him, too used to Haechan’s sass to be bothered by it.

“I think Jisung’s right,” Haechan gasped, turning to stare at Mark, his wide eyes a silent question ‘wtf bro?’ “I think they’re trying to teach us something, or tell us something. Maybe we should try to contact them in a way we can control?”

“None of us are good at contacting a specific dead person,” Chenle pointed out, lips puckered.

“Jaemin was,” Jeno muttered and then flinched as everyone in the circle began to mutter things along the line of ‘Yes, but Jaemin isn’t here.’

“Chenle, do you think your cousin would help?” Chenle shrugged once. He was just so tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. He could feel the exhaustion tugging at him, if the nightmares continued much longer and he felt like he’d lose his mind. The longer he sat there in this never ending debate, the more he felt like he could just drift off.

“We could ask Doyoung?” Everyone turned to look at Renjun, Haechan making a ‘suurrreee’ sound. Renjun lifted his hands, his eyebrows shooting up. “What? He’s not that bad guys! Just a bit… reclusive. Besides, it’s his family too!”

“Didn’t you say Yuta was coming around tomorrow? He’d definitely help!” Jisung clapped quickly, sitting up straighter, a relieved grin on his face. Chenle huffed as he slid down his friends arm and reluctantly pushed himself into a sitting position, his arms crossed, back hunched as he attempted to fight off sleep.

As much as they all wanted to help Haechan and Chenle, none of the group had been particularly enthusiastic about sending their letter, so they were all glad there was another option for them. If they could get one of the older clan to help them, their summoning could actually get them somewhere.

Feeling much better about the situation now than they had when they had all arrived, the boys all began to rise and gather their things. With the plan made, even the light in Jisung’s bedroom seemed brighter, lighting up the wide space. Once more the light bounced off the crystals scattered over the room, turning the room into a giant rainbow, and the scent of the herbs hanging from baskets and growing in pots on the windowsill flooded the room with scents of ylang ylang, sweetgrass and peppermint that the boys were used to.

As soon as the group started moving Chenle crawled over to Jisung’s bed and threw himself onto it, rolling till he was transformed into a blanket burrito, his face pressed into the mattress. He let out a low groan which was cut in half by a sudden yawn.

“Are the dreams coming every night for you, too?” Haechan sighed as he dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching back to pat the Chenle-burrito. The younger boy groaned in agreement then began a rapid series of wiggles, trying to get himself onto his side.

“Maybe mom can help,” Jisung turned and flung open his door and went running off down the corridor just as Jeno pushed the curtains fully open, pinning them back to allow the most night light to flood into the room. The boys all settled into their usual spots: Chenle and Haechan on the bed, Renjun in the desk chair in the corner with a large brown leather book opened on his lap and Mark stood by the shelves opposite Jisung’s window, pointing at each in turn before muttering their name and properties.

These boys had known each other pretty much their whole lives, had grown up in the same small town where everyone knew, but they had never had any problems. They had all been able to live happily, weaving their magic into the mundane lives of the humans who had chosen to settle here. Just like the humans, the witches worked for a living. The only perk for the humans here was the access to the magic, particularly the spells and potions which provided much better results than most human remedies.

This was the first time they’d had any issue, magical or human related. And none of them were ready to deal with it.

“Well, it’s been awful, but I have to go. Mom’s saying something about a new rune, I don’t know. She seems to see a lot in her dreams,” Haechan shrugged as he hopped up from the bed, wiggling his jeans a little higher on his waist before bending over and starting to pull on his shoes from where he had kicked them off in the corner of Jisung’s room.

“Leaving already? It’s only been five hours,” Haechan straightened with a jump, whirling around with his fists raised, prepared to deck whoever had appeared behind him. With a snort, Haechan rolled his eyes and dropped his hands, returning to lacing his shoes.

“Been spying on us, Taeyong?” Mark grinned across at the older guy, Jisung’s brother. Taeyong stood resting in the doorway, black eyes observing the boys spread across his brother’s room. Mark had once thought Taeyong was creepy with his black eyes and white hair, but after falling over and scraping his knee as a kid, Taeyong had been the one to heal Mark’s cut with a pearl he had summoned from mid-air, and Mark no longer found him any more threatening than a puppy.

“I don’t need to spy when you all go bashing through the house like a herd of elephants,” Taeyong grinned as he stepped into the room, and Mark couldn’t help but stare. Had Taeyong lost weight recently? He was used to Tae being slim, but something definitely seemed different… he was more slender today.

“Haechan, this is for you,” Taeyong pulled his arm from behind his back and held out a hand. Dangling from one finger was a ribbon attached to a small bag full of ground and cut up herbs. The smell was potent and deep. Haechan reached out for the bag and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Almost immediately his eyes closed and the purple under his eyes seemed to lighten.

“How did she know he was leaving now?” Jeno asked, turning with a peppermint leaf pinched between his fingers.

“I don’t know. She keeps insisting she’s psychic. Or maybe she just knows Haechan’s mom too well,” Taeyong grinned and Jeno nodded, this actually made a lot of sense. Most of their parents were pretty close, if not because they had grown up together, but because their kids were now in the same covens and apparently that meant the parents had to stay in touch, probably to make sure they weren’t summoning anything dangerous. Like hell hounds or demons. They’d already had to deal with THAT with Taeyong and his friends.

“Your mom is truly a goddess,” Haechan drew in a long breath to get a final whiff of the mixture before tucking it into his pocket. “And I’m gonna go say thank you and then I’ll go and deal with my mom.”

“Good luck,” Renjun and Jeno chimed at the same moment, Jeno waving his little leaf, grinning at his friend. Renjun didn’t look up but he waved as Haechan left the room. As Haechan walked past Taeyong he lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. Taeyong smiled and ducked under Haechan’s arm, punching softly at the boy’s side.

“Let us know you get home safe,” Mark said, grinning. From the bed, Chenle let out a muffled ‘g’bye’ and with a low bow Haechan walked from the room, Taeyong quickly following him.

Not even a minute later and Jisung appeared with a tray littered with small objects, including a steaming pot and a small saucer.

“Unwrap yourself, Zhong, mom made you some tea,” Jisung stood in an impassive silence as Chenle wiggled desperately to free himself from the blankets. Somehow he had gotten so tangled he only managed to get free when Jeno sat on the bed next to him and physically rolled him out of the blankets.

“Did she make us tea?” Mark asked, peeking over Jisung’s shoulder to look at the tray.

“No,” Jisung turned, elbowing Mark so that he backed up a bit. All he needed was for Mark to nudge his arm once and the tray and all its contents could go flying. “Because you all need to go home and get some rest for tomorrow.”

“Why does Chenle get tea?” Mark whined, sniffing hungrily in the direction of the steam wafting from the teapot. He didn’t know what was in the tea, just that he wanted some of it.

“Because Chenle is tired and hasn’t slept properly in a week. Mom said he could stay over so she can try some different things on him,” Jisung rolled his eyes and knelt down, placing the tray on the mattress before beginning to pour some tea for his friend. Feeling the first wave of energy he’d felt in a long while, Chenle sat up on his knees on the other side of the tray, his eyes flickering between each item on the tray.

“What is all this stuff?” He asked, poking at what looked like an orange jelly. Jisung swatted his hand away, tutting.

“Your mothers a kitchen witch, but you’re really clueless about this stuff, aren’t you?” Jisung placed the pot down on the tray and lifted a small silver spoon. He heaped up a scoop of the orange jelly and dipped it into the tea, swirling until it dissolved. “It’s to help you sleep, get rid of bad dreams,” Jisung pointed at the bunch of parsley in a small bowl. “Purify the area around you and end misfortune.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call dreams a misfortune,” Jeno was knelt next to Jisung, just like Mark he was interested in the tray. The only one who seemed uninterested was Renjun, whose head was still bent over his book.

“Well I didn’t really want to tell her grandpa has been making Chenle cry,” Jisung smirked and Mark burst into laughter. Chenle, on the other hand, gave Jisung a very unimpressed look but he reached out for the finished tea and took a sip anyway, releasing a very pleased sound as the sweet tea hit his tongue. “She just thinks he’s been having nightmares. She’s making you a dream catcher now, she said she’d bring it up when it’s done, I think Taeyong summoned her some turquoise and moonstone to weave into the net. Mine are all too big.”

Renjun snorted into his book before slamming it shut.

“What?” Jisung gaped, brandishing his spoon at Renjun as if to beat him with it, expecting some sort of sarcastic comment from his friend.

“She just knows you can’t summon things to save your life,” Renjun replied simply, waving his hand in Jisung’s direction..

“Gee, thanks pal,” Jisung stood up quickly, placing his hands on his hips “Buddy,” Jisung took a few slow steps in Renjun’s direction. Renjun threw up his hands just as Jisung leapt at him, whacking Renjun with the back of the spoon, not caring what he hit. After a dozen rapid hits Jisung closed his arms around Renjun’s neck, pulling his friends head against his chest for a little hug. “Friend.”

“Get off,” Renjun pinched Jisung’s waist and the younger boy yelled and stumbled back. The room burst into laughter as Jisung fell over, wailing loudly about abuse.

“Feel free to report me to someone, I’ll just show them all the bruises you’ve given me,” Renjun stood with his book under his arm and kicked out lightly at Jisung’s leg. The younger boy rolled onto his back and grinned up at his friend.

“They wouldn’t arrest me though, I’m a cute child.”

“You’re definitely special,” Mark agreed, appearing to stand besides Renjun. Back on the bed Chenle released a croaky laugh and nodded.

“He’s very special.”

“Hey! You wanna sleep here tonight or not?” Chenle’s eyes widened at Jisung’s threat and he shrugged, suddenly falling quiet as he took another long sip of his tea, his eyes still shining with laughter.

“Ok, we will see you losers tomorrow,” Mark pointed at Jeno and then waved at the door. The three boys all had their shoes and jackets on, Jeno was still sniffing the peppermint leaf he had plucked from Jisung’s plant. Renjun and Jeno waved goodbye. Mark was one foot out the door when he turned back and pointed at Chenle. “And you, get some sleep.”

With the others gone, Jisung returned to the tray, pointing out the various little things his mom had sent up to help Chenle sleep.

“So, just rub this on your chest and it should help with your dreams. And if you wake up just eat one of these little things and it will get rid of anxiety, and this should be under your pillow-“

“Look at you, my little healer,” Jisung jumped as his mom swept into the room, a proud grin on her face. Jisung’s mom was a lovely Lunar Witch with bright eyes that always sparkled, and a huge, happy grin. Every member of their coven loved Jisung’s mom. She was always there with little potions to help them focus and study, or help them if they were feeling unwell. She was sort of an extended mom to them all. “I’m so proud of you for helping your friend!”

“Mom,” Jisung dipped his head, trying to hide the furious blush on his cheeks from Chenle. Jisung’s mom waved a hand casually, she didn’t care if she was embarrassing her son, she was just glad to see him so knowledgeable about all the things his father had created.

“Listen to Jisung, Chenle dear, he knows his stuff,” Jisung’s mom pointed at Chenle, trying to look stern, then laughed. “Here you go, dear. We have lots down in the shop, but I got Taeyong’s help to make this one just for you. After all, you’re family.”

Chenle reached out to take the small dream catcher from her hand and pulled it back against his chest, smiling happily. He didn’t know if it worked, but he felt like under this roof, with so much care pouring from Jisung’s mom, he would definitely feel better.

“If you feel bad, there’s more tea downstairs. Just find the one labelled sleep, second shelf. Do not mix it up with sheep, I dread to imagine the side effects. You’re looking better already though,” Jisung’s mom placed a hand on Chenle’s cheek and tilted his head up so as to better look at the marks under Chenle’s eyes. Whatever she saw pleased her and she released his face with a smile and satisfied hum.

“Drink your tea!” She commanded, shuffling across the room to yank Jisung’s curtains closed. “Sleep as late as you want. There’s fruit and yoghurt for breakfast in the fridge already,” Jisung’s mom leant back into her son’s room and glanced at the two boys. She hesitated. She could tell something was very wrong, she had never seen Chenle be that quiet. Ever. Even as a baby he shrieked and laughed constantly. But the two boys were already settling down, the tray on the floor, both shuffling around to get pyjamas. She sighed and turned, pulling the door shut quietly.

Iris

#kreacts #kpop #nct #nct dream #nct witch au

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

Note

oh dayum that spiderman fic was heavenly. could i possibly suggest another prompt? so how about peter being sick (obvs) when he's out fighting crime etc and he gets hit and thrown against a wall which quickly knocks him out (being weak from his illness and all) and his suit not only tracking him but also his vitals sends an alert to tony who comes to collect the whumpy peter

(Do u know what..despite me being all for the whump I’ve realised this is like only my second time writing injury wtf?? like the first time I did it was like barely even there lmao.. I’m sorry if this wasn’t very cohesive, I’m just back from a holiday and trying to get back into the swing of things!)

Crime was so much bigger than him.

Peter knew this. He knew it too well. He learned a painful lesson through his loss of Uncle Ben that crime was crime, and it had to be stopped. Because not doing anything causes a huge ripple effect, a devastating butterfly effect that would harm many innocent people like himself. In the past, he had been ignorant and unaware of the true consequences of his own actions or lack of, and now that he knew, it was Peter’s mission to look out for the little guy and try his hardest to make sure this wouldn’t happen to anyone else. It was a type of pain he wouldn’t have wished on his worst enemies.

Justice needed to be served. He had to push through anything and everything, because all of this had a devastating ripple effect and Peter’s job was to nip it in the bud. It was his duty. Even if he was sick.

“God, Peter, you look horrible,” Ned frowned as he walked down the corridor with his best friend as the last bell of the day rang.

“I feel it too,” Peter groaned, struggling to keep his heavy eyes from drooping down and shutting for good. He could feel his raging fever, and his body shook ferociously as he sniffled weakly.

Ned eyed him carefully, taking in his sickly features, “You shouldn’t have come in today–or went to the nurse. I guess this means no crime fighting tonight.”

Peter scoffed, tending up defensively, “Ned, you know I can’t do that! I can’t have someone die because I took a sick day.”

Ned rolled his eyes, “Peter, there is barely any crime here anyways. I bet you any comic you want in my collection that nothing will happen tonight. You can take a sick day.”

Peter sighed, coughing into his fist, “Yeah, I guess so. Well, if anything does happen, my sick day is over and I get the Death of Superman, yeah?”

Ned chuckled, “Sure.”

They walked in silence for a while, to Peter’s relief. He was glad he had someone like Ned who knew him well, he knew that Peter had a headache and needed some much needed silence. The rambunctious High School certainly didn’t do that for him.

The two best friends kept walking until they met a point where two roads diverged into different blocks. The point that separated them from their usual walk home. Ned turned over and moved to the right, and gave Peter a gentle smile, “Get better soon, Peter.”

Peter managed a weak smile back and moved left, and continued the trek up to his apartment block where he collapsed into his bed the moment he stepped into his room.

A few hours later Peter woke up to a splitting headache. He groaned, his hand shooting up to his head as he tried to soothe it.

He craved for some aspirin, and medicine to cool down this raging fever. His body felt as if it was being pinned down by a huge mound of rocks, and there was nothing he could do to lift himself off of his bed. He forced his heavy body out of bed, feeling weak to the bones.

Peter sighed and staggered out of his bedroom, to find a post it on his bedroom door that he didn’t notice when he had gotten home.

It read, “Im working late tonight, there’s money on the coffee table for dinner. I larb you! :)”

Peter smiled fondly, and tried to make it to the bathroom as quick as he could so he could find some medicine. Once he managed to get there, he pulled open the cupboard to find nothing but empty packets and medicine boxes.

Peter frowned, sighing. He figured that he would just tough it out for now, but once another surge of pain shot up his head that his body shuddered violently, he knew he needed medicine. He sighed, he needed to buy dinner anyway.

He threw on a coat and a scarf, and his backpack so he could carry his dinner, and quickly grabbed at the money Aunt May had left on the table and staggered out of his apartment, heading out onto the streets.

The cashier frowned worriedly as she scanned Peter’s medicine, as well as a can of soup and OJ. She bagged the products, eyes still lingering on an obviously sick Peter.

“Uh..you okay kid?” She asked worriedly, a little awkwardly.

Peter sniffled, looking up at her with bleary eyes and tried to register what she was saying. He felt extremely drowsy and sluggish, his brain not computing as fast as it normally did.

“..huh..Oh, yeah, I’m okay.”

She nodded worriedly, and took his money and gave him his change. She cleared her throat, “Alright, well, look after yourself, okay?”

Peter managed a weak smile and took his bag of groceries. He quickly stuffed it into his backpack and left the store. He was silent as he left, pulling his jacket closer against himself to try and insulate his body heat. It was a still night and it wasn’t hot or cold, but Peter felt as if it was the dead of winter.

As he was about to turn back to his block, a faint ringing began in his ears.

He felt a weird sensation, suddenly very awake and alarmed. The ringing increased in volume, and then he could hear it. He could hear some sort of ruckus coming from a few blocks away. His senses were heightening. He felt this magnetic urge, a strong desire boiling in his blood. It was drawing him to the only conclusion he could act upon. He had to do something, despite how awful he was feeling. It was his duty.

“Ned owes me a comic,” Peter muttered under his breath as he sprinted towards the alleyway, his head pounding, as he unzipped his backpack to retrieve his suit.

“Why are you doing this?! Who are you?! Please, just take my money!” A middle-aged man cried out, squirming beneath a much larger mans grasp, kicking desperately in an attempt to escape. Tears streamed down his face, nose bleeding and bruises shadowing his skin.

The larger man, his head oddly disfigured and enlarged, his skull misshapen and wide, snarled at him, spitting on him, his fist balling up the man’s shirt viciously, “It doesn’t matter who I am, It doesn’t matter who you are and why I’m doing this, I have orders and that is it. You are going to die, and that is all that matters.”

“Please don’t, I have a family,” The man begged tearfully, his body trembling violently in fear.

“Family ain’t jack shit,” The large man snarled, a slight twinge of a Russian accent coming through. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and raised it to his victim’s head. His fingers grazed the trigger and suddenly a flash of red knocked the weapon out of his hand. The gun flung across the alleyway, far out of his reach.

“What?!” He exclaimed in confusion, bewildered. When he looked up, he was greeted to see the Spiderman.

“You don’t turn your back on family,” Peter said in a mock Vin Diesel voice.

“Who the fuck is this punk ass kid?!” The man hissed.

“Hey! That isn’t very nice, Hammerhead!” Peter shot back, shooting a web-slinger over to a wall, swinging towards the large man and kicking him in the head.

“Go, go!” Peter yelled at the victim, to which he met his eyes which were flooding with so much gratitude and relief. The man sprinted, running as fast as he could, away from it all.

He watched as the victim ran off, a sense of relief in his system. He felt his body begin to settle down, relaxing, his body feeling a bit weaker and fainter. The adrenaline seemed to be fading, and his fever coming back rapidly and spreading.

Before Peter could think much of this, Hammerhead punched him, and Peter hissed as a sharp pain shot up his face, already feeling his eye begin to bruise up.

Before Peter could retaliate, he was being shoved towards the hard cold gravel. His brain was moving too slow, his senses horribly impaired and he couldn’t fight to the standard he was used to. The sharp little clints of the gravel digging into his spine, scratching at his skin. Peter groaned in pain, trying to pick himself off of the ground but found that his dangerously fevered body was too heavy to pick up.

Hammerhead yanked Peter up by the scruff, causing him to feel extremely woozy and dizzy by the sudden, jerking movement. His head throbbed painfully, stabbing at his brains as sharp pains shot up his head. He whimpered, a strangled sob escaping him in pain as Hammerhead punched him repeatedly, and dropping him onto the floor again.

Peter managed to stand up, his legs wobbly and shaking. The world spun rapidly, seeing double, and a sharp rush of pain flooded his senses and he gasped, collapsing on the floor. His body felt like it was on fire, as he gasped for air and clenched his teeth to try and withstand the overwhelming amount of pain he felt. He let out a scream of anguish as he felt warm liquid soaking his suit. He could taste the salty, metallic liquid in his mouth.

Just as he tried to stand again, he was thrust upward and Hammerhead head butted him with what felt like a wrecking ball. He was thrown across the alleyway, head hitting against the concrete wall. Peter tried to scream again, and he wasn’t sure if he was loud enough, because he couldn’t hear anything. His limp body slid down the wall, dropping against the concrete with a sickening thud as his vision went dark.

“Mr Stark, would you like a report on Mr Parkers vitals?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, continuing to tweak at a piece of tech, fully immersed in his work and unavailable.

“Yeah, sure,” He said absentmindedly.

“Mr Parker has a fever of 103.6 degrees and has several bruises, is bleeding from numerous cuts and is currently passed out from a concussion.”

Tony’s heart sank. It was like time had ceased to exist as he froze, his body malfunctioning.

“FRIDAY, please tell me the location of Mr Parker,” Tony breathed out shakily, trying to stay composed as his blood ran cold.

“The coordinates have been sent to your suit, sir. He is still in Queens.”

Tony finally regained his senses and ran towards his suit, quickly donning it and was flying out of Stark Tower and towards Queens as fast as his suit could take him.

“Where are you, where are you,” Tony hissed to himself frustratedly, feeling his heart beat loudly and rapidly. He scanned the area and followed the coordinates given to him.

Soon enough, he was brought to a shady looking alleyway where he quickly landed. Tony ran down the alleyway to find Peter sprawled across the floor, unconscious, and bleeding.

“Shit!” Tony cursed, his chest growing heavy with fear as he ran towards his limp body. He scooped him into his arms and cradled him. He quickly ripped off his mask and gasped at the sight of the bleeding, sickly boy. Just a boy, not a fierce, immortal superhero. Tony saw so much of himself in this kid it sent shivers down his spine.

He was scarily white, bruises dotting his face. He was so weak and limp, Tony feared he was too late. Catastrophic thoughts clouded his mind for a while as his breathing picked up as he frantically felt his forehead, which was scorching hot. He felt for a pulse, and was relieved when he found one, but was still incredibly frightened.

“Oh my god, Peter, Peter, oh god, please be okay,” Tony whispered tearfully, running a hand through Peter’s damp locks in fear that if he were to let him go he would lose him forever.

“FRIDAY, please do a scan,” He choked nervously.

“Mr.Parker requires immediate and extensive care. I have contacted Dr.Sanchez over to the Stark Tower to see to the damage. But, if you complete these tasks Mr Parker should make a steady, albeit slow recovery.”

Tony let out a relieved sigh, but still couldn’t help the guilt pitting and gnawing at his stomach.

Peter was just a kid and he did this to him.

Tony brought him into this horrible world. Peter should be a kid, he should be a kid who went to high school and rested on his sick day. He shouldn’t be fighting crime. Peter was here because of him. He had brought him into this world and he couldn’t take him out of it. He trapped him.

Tony stood up, shakily, but had never held anyone so steadily in his life. He cradled Peter in his arms and took off into flight, trying to speed back to Stark Tower as fast as he could. His heart seemed to be racing against time, racing back home so Peter could be safe.

“Mr Stark..?” Peter stirred, eyes still closed.

“Don’t open your eyes. You need rest,” Tony said shakily. Below them seemed to be the entire world, and the world wasn’t always kind. Peter had a taste of that today, and Tony didn’t want him to look down in fear that if Peter looked down, he’d be lost and overwhelmed in the realisation that the world was so big.

That there was so much more bad out there than either of them could ever imagine.

Peter woke up to a dull ache spread across his body, and a headache booming in his temples. He groaned in pain, lifting a hand to rub his eyes when pain shot up his face as he hissed and withdrew his hand quickly. His eye was most certainly bruised.

He cracked his eyes open tiredly, still feeling feverish and was alarmed to see daylight streaming from the window. His eyes widened and he shot up, looking around at his familiar surroundings and gasping as he realised where he was.

Tony opened the door, his face lighting up as he saw the boy awake. He tried to mask the relief and joy he was feeling, but Peter saw through it.

“You’re alive,” Tony observed.

“Mr Stark–my aunt, the–”

“I called her last night. I had to talk her out of trying to come over here last night. She was really worried,” Tony explained.

He sighed, “I was really worried, Pete.”

Peter shook his head, “Mr Stark, that bad guy got away, we need to–”

“Absolutely not!” Tony hissed.

Peter fell silent.

Tony sighed, sitting down at the edge of the bed and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry. I thought I lost you last night, Pete. I’m not sure if this is safe for you, you are just a kid.”

Tears pricked Peter’s eyes as he crossed his arms angrily, “Do you not believe in me, Mr Stark?! I try so hard, all the time! I just want to do the right thing! You can’t just take this away from me!”

Tony widened his eyes, “That’s not what I meant by that, Peter. You’re extraordinary, but you don’t deserve this. You deserve to be safe, I thrust you into this situation to your doom! You’re hurt, look at you, Pete! This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t given you that damn suit!”

“I had a suit before this one, Mr Stark! I would still be doing the same thing, with or without you! You gave me a cool suit that helped me along, but you didn’t do this to me. This was my choice, I stand by it!”

Tony let out a shaky sigh, “I’m sorry, Pete..I just..thought I had killed you last night. I couldn’t bare the thought..”

Peter softened, “Fighting evil is much bigger than me. It’s bigger than you. You know that, don’t you, Mr Stark? You know sacrifices are going to have to be made for the greater good. You were my hero growing up, still are, you’ve made sacrifices before. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. It’s just the small price we have to pay for something much greater.”

Tony stared at him with a mixture of fear, sorrow, guilt, but also acceptance. He managed a weak smile.

“Then I’ll join you. That way, we can help more people, even if that means one of us might get hurt along the way. We’ll be stronger together,” Tony said firmly.

Peter smiled at him brightly, like he hailed from the sun.

Tony sighed and inched closer to him, pulling Peter in for a warm hug, rubbing his back lovingly, holding him close. He felt a feeling of love in his heart for Peter who felt like a son, and it felt so nice and warm.

He let out a shaky breath, letting himself smile, “You’re a great kid, Peter. You’re really going to make the world turn and put stars in people’s lives. You are going to be great, and I am lucky to be in a world with someone like you.”

#peter parker #tony stark #spiderman homecoming #ned leeds #spiderman #tom holland spiderman #marvel #mcu #whump #sickfic #injury #fever #whump fic #tw violence #tw blood #prompts

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swearronchanel · 8 years

Text

As per request, 2.05

You guys have been so freaking sweet and kind to me with your feedback since I started making these ridiculous posts, it’s insane but I love it!❣️ I literally started these as a joke because my one friend who watches call the midwife didn’t pick up the phone (and bc I was under the influence whoops hahaha it happens) but now I have so much fun posting every week! I’m sure I won’t stop these any time soon (what will I do when this series is over until Christmas? Yikes lets not talk about it yet) Anyways @marialujan22 requested I rewatch and post for 2x5 & shit it’s been a while since I’ve watched series 2 but I couldn’t say no! Besides Im in a good mood because I have 10 days till spring break & only like 8 weeks left in the semester so here we go ..

idk if I’m mentally prepared for this

THE BIKE SONG I LOVE IT

“Somewhere far away, scientist we’re working on a magic pill, rumored to make pregnancy a case of choice..” Hell yea birth control, deff a magic pill in my opinion

Crazy that it took 3 series for the pill to become a thing & then there was still lame ass government guidelines

Jenny Lee! lol I often forget about her sorry not sorry, I liked her but she left. ya no importa

I love how “mature jenny” still narrates even though her character is never even mentioned anymore #letmenarrate lol jk I like Vanessa Redgrave’s voice

“Meanwhile other scientists were trying to send humans to the moon” fuck yea Hidden Figures

If CtM went up until 1969 that’d be lit, like the episode on mad men when they watched the moon landing! Just replace them with nuns and nurses and babies & replace the liquor for tea 😂

Shit I’ve said typed so much already

SISTER MJ💕 I wanna smack myself she’s brushing her teeth & I thought of that stupid toothbrush song from last week’s episode kill me

Nora’s pregnant again uh oh

Cynthia! SISTER E! Jane! It’s been so long

My bby Trixie 💕😍 I miss her pin curls! But now she’s serving those 60s looks so I’m here for it all

“Take that off this minute before you go to hell” LMAO TRIX YOU CANT TELL KIDS THAT

lol who am I kidding I would’ve said the same

I love sister Monica Joan, id quote everything she ever says but that’s too much work

Vicar’s wife? But who was the vicar?

LMAO WAIT DOESNT SISTER MJ FAKE A HEART ATTACK??

YES SHE DID IM DEAD I LOVE HER, WELL IT WAS LIKE ANGINA BUT IDC STILL FUNNY CAUSE SHE DIDNT WANNA GO

PRECIOUS SISTER BERNADETTE 😭💕

I STILL CANT BELIEVE MY BBY SHELAGH WAS A NUN, ITS SO STRANGE TO GO BACK AND SEE HER IN THE HABIT, LIKE YOURE PREGNANT NOW, WITH DR TURNERS BABYYY!!

anyone else really wanted to know how she was going to tell Sister Julienne “um i was already done with being a nun and now im love sick, I can’t stop thinking about Dr Turner so I gotta ditch this habit”

damn I feel so bad like she did not want another baby & had no choice but to deal with it

No Jenny, tea is not gonna help right now

And heres the lady that scammed her

How much is 2 guinnis ? Idk how to spell that u already know I’m an ignorant American

Did she really tell a married woman keep her legs closed? It Doesn’t even matter if she was married or not like who are u anyway?? I would’ve bitch slapped her too, good for u Nora

Sister MJ saying her horoscope was right, we are the same😭

Wtf is spotted dick? Also I laughed because I’m immature Lmaoo

Sister J eating the pudding, she knows how to get to sister MJ 😂 I love them

Trixie teasing Jane about the Reverend lol aw

“I can’t knit I had a heart attack this morning” ME TRYING TO GET OUT OF THINGS

8 kids in one bedroom though yikes

Cute and classic bedroom moments 😭💕

“Naughty version of eggnog” like coquito? Lol nah, coquito is the bomb

IM CRYING SISTER BERNADETTE LOOKING IN THE DOORWAY

THIS BREAKS MY HEART EVERYTIME

THEY FUCKING CLOSED THE DOOR ON HER, MY BBY. I WANT TO HUG HER 💔💔💔 she deserves the world

Who is this irrelevant ass vicars wife? “Cherrio”

I’m so sorry Nora

Ew wtf a rat just bit the baby?

“Just tell me what you want sister” SHE WANTS YOU DOCTOR

THE WAY THEYRE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER OMG IM SHOOK

WHAT THE HELL TIM WHY DID YOU RUIN THE MOMENT ?!

sister MJ wants to roll bandages, make it happen! lol I love that Cynthia and Jane unwrap them all for her 😭

Aww i love babies !! but that one with a funny nose uhh

SISTER BERNADETTE BLOWING THE WHISTLE AND CHEERING 💕 MY HEART SHE IS SO ADORABLE

Aw I wish Trixie could have another scene going through old pictures and maybe share old stories with the new nurses💔 unlikely but you know I can hope. SHE DID HAVE THAT PHOTO OF HER AND CYNTHIA ON HER MIRROR LAST SUNDAY💕

“I’m a woman on a mission” beatrix, light in my life

Curly locks lol, when I was younger I was called Shirley temple and when I dyed my hair I was called Goldie locks.. mind u that lasted into high school 😂 I’m staying blonde for good though, I don’t think I can pull off anything else

DONT GO OUT WITH HIM TRIXIE, HE’S TRASH

Laura Main’s angelic voice ✨👼🏼

who am I kidding she’s an angel

you know what would be fun and a dream? to go out with the ctm cast and get drunk and take trashy snapchat videos singing

Gin & a hot bath??

Trixie looked him up lol, good move

BUT HE’S STILL TRASH and an asshole

Pickle knife ?

again, this irrelevant vicar’s wife? vete ya

Everyone thinks Sister MJ is senile but she knows what’s up with Sister Bernadette..

“..but is all blank sadness and continued tears” MY HEART💔 sister Bernadette/Shelagh has spent the majority of this show crying/being sad/distressed ugh!! Laura Main plays is beautifully but I CRY!? Let her be uninterruptedly happy please 😭💕

she (and helen) ruined me tbh, I used to have dignity

Is Jenny really naive or is she just pretending not to understand??

SEE SISTER BERNADETTE IS ON SCREEN AGAIN & IS UPSET

“I almost wish I was physically ill..” okay bRb CRYIN. THIS IS WHY I CANT WATCH THESE OLDER EPISODES I CRY TOO MUCH, I DONT LIKE TO SEE HER UNHAPPY

Remember when I started the show and didn’t know it was gonna ruin my life? Or before I grew attached? Yea me neither lmaoo those were the days when I thought downton killed me. I Didn’t know what was coming 😂 still love downton though rip #downtonmoviepls

Knitting needles?? aye dios mio

HA GREMLIN TIM AND JACK

Again how much is a gunniea and how do I spell it? I could google it but I’m busy here

She was willing to sell her wedding ring and risk her life for an unprofessional abortion. DO YOU SEE THE ISSUE? This isn’t just the a period drama either. Shit is real

“Are babies more valued because they can survive or do they survive beside they are more valued?” good question sis

lol Jane was so sweet and just bounced with no word

AT LEAST I KNOW WHERE SHE WENT THOUGH, THANKS FOR THAT NZ CUT SCENE

Trixie being a babe and getting ready to do her nails 😍💕 I wish I could do mine well but I’m trash and so I pay to get them done

The cross cutting in this scene is crazy but so well done (& yes look at me using real terms lol, I took a Music in film class last semester and had to know editing techniques 😂, I did fairly well too)

I really don’t know how she survived this

My bby trixie looking gorgeous as per usual. I love her so much, Helen u kill me

NO COÑFIO TRIXIE, HE’S NO GOOD

Haha why did I not remember the Gone With The Wind reference? Cynthia was so cute, I miss her carefree and happy

FRECO MOVE YOUR DAMN HAND, YOU ARE TRASH.

HE’S FICTIONAL BUT ID STILL FIGHT HIM

my poor bby😭💔 it is not your fault , he’s trash!! But this moment between the nurses warmed my cold heart

“Matrons in charge, virgins of iron” 😭😭

Aw Earth Angel playing, ✨🎼 I highkey pop to 50s/60s pandora stations

Jenny yes it’s illegal but do you think that matters rn??

TIM AS MAID MARION LMAO

Sister Bernadette looking at Dr Turner ah omg 😭they’ve come so far.

It’s not your fault Jenny but you should’ve told someone

Sister B & Tim won 👏🏼

LMAO ALL I CAN THINK OF IS THAT POST “WOAH CALM DOWN IM JUST TRYNA DATE YOUR DAD”

and she’s down, and the glasses flew

“You’ve hurt your hand” “well I’m sure there’s no need to amputate” ah sister b/shelagh lowkey has some of the funniest lines she just slips them in and people miss them !!

Here it comes ..

THE MOMENT..

“Would you like me to have a look at that?” UHM YEA

No but seriously I can barely remember what I thought when I first watched this but I knew something was gonna happen because a nurse can handle her own damn cut & well you know, she was in love with him

HE KISSED HER HAND. A fucking doctor kissed a nuns hand people, how scandalous & this was THE MOMENT I KNEW I WAS CORRUPT AND WAS GOING TO HELL, I AM SATAN I WANTED THE DOCTOR TO KISS A FREAKING NUN ON THE MOUTH LIKE WTF WHO RAISED ME? MY MOTHER WANTED IT TOO SO IDK BUT THIS KILLED ME, LIKE R.I.P HERE LIES GABBY, I WAS IN THE GROUND DECEASED. I’m actual trash. Someone dispose of me in the proper bin #recyle

for real, this is when I really knew that I was never going to love any other show like this and I allowed it to ruin me

BUT HONESTLY WHAT THE HELL WAS HE THINKING? THATS A BOLD MOVE

BOLD IN GENERAL BECAUSE YOU DONT KNOW IF SHE LIKES YOU BUT BOLD x1000 BC SHE IS A NUN, YOU KNOW MARRIED TO GOD, VOW OF CHASITY AND ALL THAt??

What if she would’ve freaked tf out or told sister Julienne? I don’t even know. I’ll just be grateful for how things turned out

“At this moment I only know I’m not turning my back on you because of you but I’m doing it because of him” AHHHH, DONT WORRY BBY GOD LOVES U AND UNDERSTANDS YOU LOVE HIM AND THE DOCTOR, LOSE THAT HABIT AND GO PROPERLY KISS PATRICK 😭

Sister MJ judging the baby contest is the purest thing & I need it to cleanse my disgusting soul that wants a dr to get with a nun #notsorrythough

“In Nonnatus we were good at tending other’s wounds and there were times I felt we were all each other’s children..” brb I’m crying I love that they’re like a family 😭💕💔

I’m so happy they didn’t kill Nora and she actually was happy in the end. I really wasn’t sure for a moment (obviously when I first watched lol)

“ Free reliable contraception came too late to help her, but in time the scientists triumphed. Her daughters and granddaughters lives remained transfigured, long after man left fleeting footprints on the moon.” Vanessa always knowing what to say in the end.

Lets see how the pill is going to be reintroduced this series, I’m interested in how it’s going to play out.

I’ve said that so many times though so I’ll be done

The End.

#call the midwife #im actual trash #I love this show too much #my thoughts #and rambles #lets get it 1962 #protect my bbys at all costs though #my commentaries™

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not-so-lonely-star · 8 years

Text

(B)romance in the NHL

Summary: A viral article about Kent and Tater’s bromance sparks some confessions. Word Count: 3,700 Rating: G

The music skips with an incoming text that Alexei ignores as he mixes his smoothie and hums along. Once he adds the last chunk of banana he slips the lid on the blender and turns it on. A few moments later he turns it off and the silence is jarring. Alexei walks over towards where his phone is laying on the counter, hoping his battery hasn't died yet again. His phone has been on the last leg of life for a couple weeks now, but he's too attached to it to change it in for a new one, no matter how much the rookies tease him.

Alexei picks up the phone. It isn't dead. It buzzes incessantly in his hand as 20 messages turned to thirty with three missed calls and several voicemails. Alexei swipes in his password and scrolls down the list of names until he reaches the first message. It's from Kent. The first is a link with three messages in quick succession after.

Kent (8:57 am): I didn't even notice them take this Kent (8:57 am): It makes us look kind of gay... don't you think? Kent (8:58 am): Okay yeah other ppl think it's hella gay too wtf

Alexei clicks on the link from the first text and his heart feels like it's beating out an erratic rhythm in his chest as he waits for it to load. Once it loads he breathes a sigh of relief, it's just the article about bromance in the NHL. A couple months ago he'd been contacted by Cosmo to participate alongside Kent in a best bros piece about cross team friendships in the NHL in an attempt to broaden the hockey audience. The concept was simple enough, they'd contacted a bunch of different hockey players with friendships well documented via social media and called them in to take pictures and give a short interview.

Two weeks ago, once they were both free with plenty of time in the off season, he and Kent had flown out to LA and posed for a bunch of pictures together. Each pair of friends was photographed playing some sport other than hockey.

Alexei knew Snowy and his buddy Kicker from the Schooners were doing water polo, because Snowy had complained to Alexei for a solid three days afterwards that it was 'the lamest of all polos'. Alexei and Kent had been given wrestling. The singlet they gave him was so small Alexei had popped into Kent's dressing room, certain that it was his - it wasn't. Kent's was tight and in aces black unlike the one Alexei was holding in falconer's blue.

Once they'd gotten dressed, after a lot of wiggling on Alexei's part, they'd been brought out to the set where a wrestling mat was set up and they were told how to pose. Most of it was fairly benign, Alexei pretending to have Kent in a headlock, Kent crouching to knock Alexei over, them standing together with arms slung around one another's shoulders, that sort of thing. After a couple hours of taking photos the woman in charge of the shoot, Shelly, stopped them.

"Alright boys," she'd said, walking over towards them and shaking both their hands. "I think we've got a bunch of great shots here. So you can feel free to go ahead and get changed. We've got a few more photoshoots and interviews scheduled, but the article should be posted in a couple weeks so keep your eye out." She smiled at them before walking back to the photographer. "Thanks again for coming," she said over her shoulder at them, "It's been a pleasure."

"Thank you," Kent had said, smiling, "it gives me an excuse to drag this lug out to LA finally."

Alexei had rolled his eyes good naturedly, "I am telling Kent I been to LA many times before -"

"Playing hockey and never leaving your hotel doesn't count." Kent smirked at him and before Alexei could even think about what he was doing he'd lifted Kent up and they'd both gone crashing down onto the mat. After grappling for a minute Alexei had ended up on his back staring up dazedly at Kent standing above him with his hand outstretched to help him up.

Alexei puts his head in his hands as he stares down at the photo. He hadn't even realized that the cameras were still rolling while he and Kent were messing around. The picture was taken a moment after Alexei knocked them both to the mat. In it he's pinning Kent's arms above his head and his legs are straddling Kent's waist. Kent has a grin on his face, that's more smirk than smile, which at the time had Alexei's heart skipping a beat before returning in double time. Kent's left brow is raised in challenge, but it's Alexei's face coupled with their position that's incriminating. His eyes are soft, his smile joyous and it's obvious to anyone looking that he's in love.

Alexei groans, and lets his head thunk down onto the cool counter. He hadn't realized he's been so transparent with his affection for Kent, if he had he never would've agreed to do the photoshoot together in the first place. Maybe no one else really noticed though, he thinks hopefully as he runs to get his laptop because his phone really is a piece of shit.

His laptop boots up quickly and Alexei holds his breath as he googles his own name. Before he even finishes typing it autofills with Alexei Mashkov Kent Parson gay? He curses softly before clicking on the first article that comes up and it has more than just the picture from the Cosmo site. There's paparazzi photos all the way going back to their rookie year, to when Alexei played for the Aces. None of the pictures would be all that incriminating on their own, but together...

Alexei groans and takes a deep breath before scrolling down through no less than twenty pictures of the two of them sitting just a little too close at sporting events, smiling at each other over dinner, sitting together in pubs, and most notably a picture of them slow dancing at Chaser's wedding last year. Chaser was the only other rookie on the Aces in their first year and had invited them both to his wedding even though none of them were still on the same team anymore.

"Why you are not dancing?" Alexei'd asked, having just come back from the dance floor where he'd had six kids hanging off of him like a jungle gym.

Kent had rolled his eyes and held up his glass, "This is more my style."

Alexei had plopped down into the chair beside Kent and smiled at him. "I know you like dancing. I see pictures all the time of Ace's Captain dance at club."

"This isn't really my type of dancing." Kent's nose had crinkled at the thought. Alexei's heart was still a little erratic from his time on the dance floor.

"You are not knowing how," Alexei'd teased in a singsong voice.

Kent had scoffed. "I know how to fucking dance."

Alexei stood up and stretched out his hand to Kent in invitation. "Prove it."

They'd twirled around the dance floor together, laughing with fingers entwined. At one point Kent had buried his head into Alexei's shoulder and it'd made Alexei's heart race and his palms sweat. The other hockey players at the wedding had teased them afterwards, but the smile Kent couldn't seem to completely wipe from his face the rest of the night had been worth any chirping they'd received.

Alexei knew their picture had been taken, but they'd been goofing off, he hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now it was showing up on a gossip site less than twenty minutes after Cosmo posted incriminating photos. He isn't sure he wants to read whatever this site has to say about him and Kent, but it's like a car wreck he can't look away from as he scrolls down.

The article following the photos is short and mostly excerpts from the Cosmo interview.

Cosmo: So you two have been friends since your rookie year. Can you tell us about how you guys went from being teammates to friends? KP: Well my rookie year was pretty rough, it was a big change from the Q [Parson was in Juniors prior to the 2009 draft] and Tater didn't know anyone - AM: Or any English KP: [smiling at Mashkov] We bonded over a mutual inability to cook and be actual adults.

Alexei knows there was a follow up question to that about what sort adult things they didn't know how to do, it somehow devolved into Kent ranting about Kit. Alexei's not exactly shocked the site he's on chose not to include that conversation - if it even ended up in the final interview of Cosmo's website. Alexei had gotten so distracted by the picture he forgot to even look.

Cosmo: I'm sure our readers would be interested to know what the two of you do when you hang out together. AM: We like going [to] movies, I can cook now and Parsnip like[s] to [Mashkov looks to Parson and gestures at him] KP: [laughs] Mooch AM: Yes, yes he mooch[es] off of me. Cosmo: Is he a good cook Kent? KP: Oh yeah, definitely. I love when he cooks for me.

Cosmo: Do you two have anything planned together during the offseason? AM: Kent is come [sic] to Russia with me. KP: Since when? AM: I [told] you my mama want[s] to meet you. KP: Yeah I thought you meant in the US man. AM: No, no. I mean in Russia. KP: [Laughing] Apparently we're going to Russia together.

Cosmo: Kent you always seem to have a new beautiful woman on your arm. Any chance of you settling down soon? KP: [laughs] Is this your polite way of telling me to stop being a player? Cosmo: No, no of course not. I just want to let our female readers to know if they've got a chance. KP: Oh alright then, [laughs] as long as you're not trying to ruin my image. Alexei knows, he knows he shouldn't be reading the comments but he can't stop himself from scrolling.

There's already over 800 comments when he starts to read them, and the number keeps scrolling up. There's argumentative comments defending Alexei from what they think are false accusations tinged with disgust at the implications, debates continue in threads below that, a surprising number are supportive and there's a single comment, fifteen responses deep from a gay teen who says he's decided not to quit hockey now from just the idea that there might be professional hockey players like him. Alexei stops reading after that one.

When he attempts to go back to the original article to see what else had been included from their interview he can't because the site has crashed. Alexei pushes his laptop aside and walks back to his kitchen, ignoring the incessant buzzing and dialing Kent's number without even glancing at his missed calls and texts. It doesn't even finish the first ring before Kent's picking up.

"Dude, where the fuck were you? I've been trying to call you for twenty minutes." His voice sounds tinny and far away like he's using the speakerphone.

"Sorry," Alexei says, running a hand through his hair and feeling his heart rate slow from the panicked seizing it was doing moments before. He'd rather not think too deeply about that. "I - are you alone?"

"Yeah," Kent sighs through the line and Alexei can picture him fingering the brim of his snapback. "I'm in the car on my way to your place now."

"What?" Alexei asks.

"I was in New York visiting my mom," he says, "I'll be there in like two hours."

Alexei feels selfish, but the fact that he'll get to see Kent today nearly outweighs everything else. "Okay," he says, taking a deep breath, "I am sorry, котенок. Is my fault they are saying these things. I should not have -"

"Shut up Aloysha," Kent says. Alexei sucks in a quick breath at the rare use of his nickname. "This isn't on you. I'll explain when I get there - just don't promise PR or your GM anything before I do alright?"

Alexei nods, "Yes okay. I tell them we wait to talk to Aces before say anything." "Sounds good man," Kent says before hanging up.

Instead of sitting in his apartment letting his anxiety brew while he waits for Kent, Alexei calls Georgia and PR who are both surprisingly not upset with him. PR is pissed at Cosmo for using that shot, but the conversation actually goes far better than he thought it would. They even tell him that they were coming up with a plan for one of their other players who's planning on coming out and Alexei has absolutely no idea what to say to that. Georgia tells him that how they proceed is completely up to him; whether or not it's true he can deny it, or if he wants to come out the organization is behind him 100%. Alexei doesn't really know what to say to that because the number of people who know he's gay are exactly 2 - including himself, and the boy he kissed behind the bleachers in Russia nearly a decade ago who he's fairly sure doesn't even remember his name. He tells them he has to think about everything and hangs up before they can say anything else.

His phone won't stop buzzing and Alexei considers turning it off before deciding that it might not be a good idea. He checks the clock every five minutes trying to figure out when Kent'll get here, and when he's got about twenty more minutes to wait if Kent doesn't hit traffic when his phone buzzes with a name he'll actually bother picking up for.

"Alexei are you alright?" His given name sounds foreign on Jack's lips and he furrows his brow in distaste.

"Zimmboni," Tater exclaims, attempting to maintain some sense of normalcy. "How are you? When am I getting more pie from your baker?"

"Tater. You have - you've seen the article, haven't you?"

Tater sighs and his facade falls. "Yes, I'm seeing."

"I'm bi," Jack blurts, "well either that or pan. I'm not entirely sure yet, but I just - I thought it was something I should tell you. I mean, no that's not right," Jack says, words tumbling out so fast Alexei thinks Jack may have surprised himself a little with the confession. "It's something I wanted to tell you."

"Thank you," Alexei whispers, unsure of what else to say.

"I'm planning on coming out soon," Jack says, "while it's still off season, eh?" Alexei nods. "Is good time I think."

"I can -" Alexei can hear Jacks gulp clear through the line, "I can do it now. If it'll help - if it'll take the pressure off of you."

"NO," Alexei near shouts, "no, no. You do not come out for me. You come out for you when you are ready. Yes Zimmboni?"

The line is silent for a moment and when he speaks, Alexei can hear the undertone of relief in Jack's voice. "Yeah, yeah okay, you're right. I just - I know it can't be easy for you to have these rumors about you."

"They are not being rumors," Alexei says before he can stop himself.

"What?"

"Rumors means not true, yes? " Alexei's never said the words out loud before, and even though his heart feels like it's about to pound out from his chest he continues, "Well they are not rumors because I am gay." The words fall off his tongue as easy as any other and it seems anticlimactic that his roof doesn't cave in and the world around him doesn't come crashing down. Everything is the same as it was moments before, but it's different too.

"Thank you for trusting me with this," Jack says, as though it's a phrase he's memorized. "So you and Kenny are..." Jack's voice has a lilt to it now Alexei can't identify and he feels his heart cracking and splintering around the seams.

"No, no is not what seems." Alexei corrects him, walking over to the window with his phone held up to his ear before peeking through to see the swarm of reporters camped out at the end of his mercifully long driveway.

"Then I think you should talk to Kent," Jack says, as though it's that easy. Before Alexei can respond Jack is ending the call and there's a commotion at the end of his property.

A dark blue four door sports car barely even slows for the reporters blocking the end of his driveway. Alexei stumbles towards the switch by his door leading to the garage and presses it, opening the garage door just as the sports car reaches the house. An impossibly quick moment later his door is opening and he's got an armful of Kent Parson.

Alexei wraps his arms around Kent's shoulders and Kent buries his face deeper into Alexei's chest. After a long moment Alexei moves to pull back out of the hug, but Kent's arms remain firm around his shoulders and Alexei relaxes back into the embrace. When they finally pull apart several long moments later Kent's eyes are rimmed with red.

"I'm so sorry," Alexei says.

"What?" Kent asks, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Dude why're you sorry? It's my dumb ass that got us into this mess."

Alexei looks at Kent with confusion twisting his brow and Kent huffs a sigh, flopping down onto his couch and throwing an arm over his face dramatically. Alexei follows him and lifts Kent's feet so he can sit at the end of the couch. Kent doesn't put his feet in Alexei's lap - which is weird, because they sit like that all the time. He's got his legs squished up in a way that absolutely cannot be comfortable instead. Alexei picks Kent's feet up gingerly and places them in his lap.

Kent peaks out from under his arm and groans. "Why do you have to be such a perfect asshole, man?" Before Alexei can even come up with a response for that Kent plows on. "I'm gay."

Blood rushes through Alexei's ears and he drops his head down as his vision swims. Kent is gay, Alexei's best friend who he's in love with is not straight. He isn't sure how to process this information.

"And I'm sorry that you've gotten roped into this - I didn't think some little fluff piece for Cosmo would -" Kent pinches the bridge of his nose and looks anywhere other than at Alexei, "The interview, along with how I'm looking at you in that fucking picture. I - " Kent pulls his feet from Alexei's lap and sits up straight. "I can fix this, I was planning on coming out soon anyway. I can tell everyone to fuck off that just cause I -"

"What do you mean?" Alexei says slowly, Kent's words on repeat in his head. "What do you mean how you look at me?"

Kent rolls his eyes and huffs, but Alexei knows him well enough to see the nerves beneath his frosty exterior. "Are you really going to make me say it man?"

Alexei shrugs because the only way Kent's sentence would make sense is if he liked him, and that - he knows that isn't what Kent means.

Kent sighs and his gaze flicks away from Alexei's before meeting it defiantly. "I'm into you, okay? Not in a way that means we can't still be friends or anything because you don't love me back and you're also straight so - "

"I'm not straight," Alexei says, mind stuck on an endless loop of the words love me back. His heart is going to pump right out of his chest. "I am very much not straight," he repeats because it seems like Kent didn't hear him.

"What?" Kent asks after a long moment, eyes wide and brimming with something Alexei desperately wants to be hope.

"And I do," he says, and Ken'ts looking at him like he isn't quite sure what Alexei means, so he clears his throat and says, "love you back, I'm meaning." He ducks his head because that is most definitely not when he intended to say but he's not going to take it back because it's true and Kent deserves to hear it.

Kent launches himself at Alexei and suddenly they're kissing and it's - it's everything. It's years of memories seen in a completely different light. It's two rookies who hold hands just a hair too long when they shake for the first time. It's finding Kent crying in the locker room after a reporter interrogates him about Zimmermann the night of their first game and not knowing the words in either language but scooping him up into his arms anyway and leaving that night with a newly minted best friend. It's smiling just a little too long and laughing just a little too hard at jokes that no one else in the room finds funny. It's the bright red flush that creeps up Kent's neck and settles on his cheeks when Alexei catches his eye in locker room. It's playing on opposing teams and going to the fanciest restaurant in town to make the loser pay. It's every touch and look that sends off a flickering trail of sparks deep in his chest that he always tried desperately to smother.

It's Kent climbing into his lap and kissing him within an inch of his life. It's Alexei's hands dropping down low on Kent's waist as he pulls him closer. It's Kent breaking the kiss to catch his breath, forehead resting against Alexei's.

It's Kent mumbling, "We're so fucking stupid. We could've been doing this for years," into Alexei's mouth before kissing him again.

#patater #check please #omgcp #alexei mashkov #kent parson #myfics

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