#i already did some floor time and it was Great and i got a headrush when i sat back up but now laying down is Off Limits unless it's in bed

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

(guy who desperately needs to go to bed voice) idk why but lying down on the floor sounds really good rn. might fuck around and lay on the ground and do nothing for a bit. dont know why but it's the vibe i think

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

On the Other Side / Ch3: Hide and Seek

Last / Masterpost / Next

Summary: For the past thirteen years, a secretive organization has been raising two groups of superpowered children. Half of them, since their very first memories, have been told they’ll grow up to be brave and strong superheroes; the rest were taught a much harsher view of the world, and groomed to become villains. Neither group knows of the other’s existence. But when a certain trio of heroes-to-be meets two future villains who really just want to be left alone, they all realize how much they haven’t been told.

Warnings: non-graphic violence, bullying, child abuse, sympathetic/good Deceit (Devon) is a main character

A/N: school has started happening to me in earnest. still feel pretty good about having the next chapter done on schedule, but can’t promise anything

Read on AO3

It wasn’t hard for Patton to sense where the two boys had gone.  In fact, he found himself actually pulling back a little from their emotional auras, wincing at the waves of panic he could feel from them.  Logan tapped his arm to bring him back to reality when a worried fog started accumulating around him.  He shook himself out of it and led his friends back down the hallway the way they’d come, stopping at the doorway of one of the classrooms in that hall.

Roman insisted on being the first into the darkened room: “It might be dangerous, you don’t know!”  He sounded entirely too excited about that prospect.  Logan rolled his eyes, but decided to let him have his fun.  Patton, however, got impatient when the dramatic scan of the room was taking too long and ducked under Roman’s arm, ignoring his noise of protest.  He was- for once- a little more focused on the main issue at hand.

“Hello?” Patton called softly, flipping the lights on.  “Anyone in here?  We’re not going to hurt you, I promise!”

He knew they were in there, of course- and could tell where their hiding spot was- but he wanted to let them show themselves on their own terms.  He’d felt a spike of fear from them when they heard him and his friends walk in, and he didn’t want to scare them even more by actually going over there and exposing them.  Behind him, Logan quietly closed the door; just because Patton was trying to make them feel comfortable didn’t mean he should risk them running off again.  Roman just stood there, fidgeting with a ball of light between his hands and dimming the rest of the room in the process.  He still wasn’t sure how to feel about the new friends Patton seemed determined to make.

Patton frowned.  It seemed like they were still scared of him.  No one had ever been actually scared of him before in the entirety of his ten years of life, and it was really starting to upset him.  He couldn’t get too upset right now, though, because he needed to be calm instead so he could help them be calm.  He took a deep breath and tried to focus, like he’d been learning in his meditation class.

A gentle breeze swirled around the room, shifting a few pieces of paper and ruffling everyone’s hair.  Roman blinked as some of his nervousness seemed to drain into the floor beneath him and, in turn, let the light drain out of his hands and back into the room around him, only keeping a few faint strands to play with.  Logan relaxed his posture as well, giving Patton a small smile, which he didn’t see because he still had his eyes closed for the whole focusing thing.  He exhaled and opened them after a few more seconds, and all three of them waited hopefully to see if the other two in the room would be convinced it was safe to come out of hiding.

Half a minute went by painfully slowly, and Patton began to slump a little.  It was looking like his gentle approach wasn’t going to work after all.  There went his chance of resolving the situation without any more conflict… wait!

Everyone perked up at the muffled shifting noises coming from one of the cabinets under the counter at the back of the room.  A second later, it was pushed open, and the boys tumbled out and ended up sprawled on the floor in front of them for the second time in fifteen minutes.  They were even more disheveled than before after cramming themselves in with a bunch of dusty school supplies.  The small one recovered first, clutching a not-very-sharp pencil in each hand and jumping up as if he still expected a fight.  His friend got to his feet behind him, brushed himself off and grabbed his arm to keep him from doing anything stupid, while Roman pulled Patton back a little to be safe.  Hopefully this round of awkwardly staring each other down would turn out better than the last.

Patton laughed nervously and struggled to keep projecting calm to everyone.  “Okay, guys, I think we might’ve got off on the wrong foot earlier…  we didn’t mean to scare you, really!”

There was silence.  The taller of the two boys managed to meet Patton’s eyes for a moment with a tight half-smile, but the other was aiming a distrustful glare at Roman, who made a face at him in response behind Patton’s back.

Okay, this was… still very tense.  Patton wilted a bit at the complete lack of response he’d gotten, but he wasn’t giving up yet.  Just keep talking?  Yeah, that would probably work eventually, right?  “Um… oh, uh, my name’s Patton!  And that’s Logan-” he waved a hand behind himself and nearly smacked Logan’s arm- “and this is Roman and he’s nice really, um, don’t kick him again please?  Or… stab him with pencils?”  He let out a nervous giggle and slapped a hand over his mouth to try and get himself under control.  Roman gave him a look, hurt that his best friend would laugh at the injustice that had been done to him, and Logan just sighed.

“What he’s trying to say,” Logan cut in while Patton was incapacitated, “is that we don’t intend you any harm.”  He looked at them over his glasses, which didn’t quite have the desired effect when coming from an eleven-year-old.  “However, since we’ve been introduced now, I think it would only be right for you to return the favor and tell us who you are.  …And put the pencils away.”

The two exchanged a look and then, after a brief hesitation, a small nod.  The one brandishing said writing tools surrendered them to his friend, who set them on the counter- still notably within reach- and cleared his throat.

“I’m… my name is Devon and he’s Virgil,” he said, still holding on to Virgil’s arm.  His eyes darted over to Logan and the closed door, and his grip tightened.  “I apologize for… him earlier… it was an accident, he didn’t mean it, promise, we’re really sorry…”

Roman crossed his arms and interjected before Patton could go and say that it was totally fine or something like that.  “If he’s really sorry for attacking me, which I doubt, why doesn’t he apologize?”

“Ro…”

“What? I just want him to actually apologize, is that so much to ask?”  He was too preoccupied with being indignant to immediately notice Virgil doing pretty much the opposite of that, tensing up again and baring his teeth at him.  Jeez, the kid was practically feral.

“Roman.  You’re scaring them again.”  Patton tugged him backwards, and he grumbled under his breath about unfairness.  “But… it would be nice if you would say sorry for kicking him, Virgil.”

Virgil flinched at the use of his name, and Devon pulled him back against his chest in an attempt to calm him.  “He doesn’t like to talk,” he explained, mentally willing them not to push it any further.  “He- he only talks to me.”

Roman blinked and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Oh.  Um…”  He looked at Virgil again.  “Well, could you just… nod or give me a thumbs up or something, then?”

“Let him have this,” Logan advised, appearing over Roman’s shoulder.

Virgil squirmed and glared at the floor.  He didn’t like everyone looking at him.  But if it would make them leave him alone…  He glanced up and gave Roman the world’s most halfhearted jerky nod.

“Satisfied?” Logan asked drily.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I am.”

“Oh thank god,” Devon breathed, quietly enough that only Virgil heard it.  He started edging towards the door, which was currently unguarded.  “Great, we’ll just be on our way then-”

“Wait!”

They both froze and looked at Patton.  Virgil took a tiny step back, grabbing Devon’s sleeve in preparation.  Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Nonono, I’m sorry, nothing bad-”

That sounded fake.

“-it’s just… where are you going to go?  Because I know you’re not in our class and if you stay here you’re going to get in trouble and I saw, you know, where you were before and it didn’t seem very… nice and- and you were scared.”

Devon stiffened, and Virgil wanted to bristle at the assertion that he had been scared just then or ever before, but… okay, maybe it was the adrenaline-plus-exhaustion headrush, but he felt weirdly chill about the whole situation and Patton in particular, like maybe… maybe for once someone who said they wouldn’t hurt him was being honest about it.

“So I kinda thought- I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want but maybe you could come with us and stay in our room?  You can hide if anybody comes in and it’ll be like a sleepover!  And then in the morning you can figure out where to go, and we can help you, okay?”

Patton held out his hand to them and attempted to hold in an excited grin.  Virgil and Devon looked at him and then at each other, communicating purely through small changes in facial expression.  A… sleepover?  That was pretty much a foreign concept to them, but not one that sounded too bad in theory.  It could still be a trap, of course- but on the other hand, it wouldn’t make much sense to lure them there when they were already cornered here.  Frankly, at this point, they didn’t have much to lose compared to the amount of trouble they’d be in once one of their teachers caught them here, wherever here even was.  And fuck it- maybe Patton really did mean what he said, and he would help them, and that was a better hope than they’d had in a while.  With a final nudge from Virgil, Devon swallowed nervously, then reached out and took Patton’s hand.

[kurthummelnyvogue]

Strike A Pose || KURTBASTIAN

Kurt looked up from his spot on the floor when he was setting one of the lights, hoping that it would be Sebastian the one who had just arrived, only to see it was the photographer, Peter. He had been kind enough to offer his services for Kurt on that night, taking the pictures and also any video needed so he could get on with what had been his idea lately: to have a business online of his own. He was already quite reknown with several of the critics that were related to Vogue, but instead of just working for someone, he wanted to take that big step in what could be a huge thing for him, and his love for clothes design. And that started that night, be putting his most recent creation on film and images, with his husband as a model. Who better than Sebastian to do that? Although at the moment he was winning a reprimend for being four minutes late.

Sebastian practically flew into the building, wave his visitors card that Kurt had already organised for him. Not that it would have been difficult to get - he was known to the security guards at the front desk for meeting Kurt his lunch on occasion, but this was just faster and saved the paperwork and signing in. And plus, he was running late. Jett had been sleeping on his leg and he felt bad for moving him so he'd let him stay there for maybe a bit longer than he should have. And then he'd stopped for coffee, thinking that if he was going to be late, he may as well be late with coffee. "Sorry, sorry!" He said when he got to the room, now about 10 minutes after the time he and Kurt had agreed on, and put the hand that wasn't holding the tray with three coffees up in surrender, "I know, I'm late. I would have been on time but I stopped to get you a coffee. Mmm... coffee. Smell the coffee, don't think about the time." He held it up to Kurt with a sheepish grin. "And yes, Peter, I got you one too, but unlike my husband's, I don't know what you drink so it's just a cappuccino."

@sexbastianwarbler

The next time the door opened Kurt knew it had to be Sebastian, since he and Peter were there, and they were the only ones with access to the photo studio room that night. He put theboard he was working on down and walked up to the bed with his hands on his hips. "You're lucky that I love and coffee" he said as he grabbed his cup. "-and yes, you. Now we should get to work." He planted a soft kiss on his cheek and walked back to the desk, while Peter made grabby hands at Sebastian to get his coffee. "Okay, so... I was thinking we start with the pictures first, then we can stage an actual runway and get it on video so I can loud on My YouTube channel. I'd make the editing after of course, with the music and effects. We will start with these ensambles here. It's a spring line, so they're not really too heavy clothing anyway."

Sebastian passed Peter his coffee, then went to take a sip of his own. At Kurt's words he choked on his coffee a little bit and stared at Kurt, "a... runway? I thought this was just photos. Now you're making me nervous," he admitted. He had assumed he'd wear some of Kurt's designs, look hot in some photos and that'd be the end. He hadn't realised Kurt was planning a runway clip too, though he knew that some clothing lines used it to show how the clothes moved and actually looked on somebody. So he understood why, he just hadn't been expecting it. "It's fine though. You tell me what to wear and how pretty to look, and I'll do it. So what's first?"

Kurt chuckled. "You? Nervous to be on camera? Come on now, baby. You have all the sass it takes to kill it. Plus, it's not going to be a full length  movie thing, just a couple of minute clip, which only means you would haveto walk up and down that runway there, enough times for Peter to get all the good takes, then it's done. So, you-" He grabbed a burgundy color based ensemble, jacket and pants in said color, while the shirt was white, with a different kind of V-neck cut, just a bit longer down the chest. "You can put this one way for starter, please? There's the booth over there for you to change."

Sebastian took the clothes from Kurt, liking the colour choices, and then looked over at Peter with a wink. "I'm sure Peter wouldn't mind if I give a strip teas- I'm kidding! Okay, I'm going, I'm going." He took a quick sip of his coffee before setting it aside (not wanting it anywhere near the clothes while he was getting changed because that just spelled disaster) and heading behind the booth. He quickly changed, and stepped out, knowing Kurt would want to fix up exactly how the outfit looked. Especially since the focus here was for the clothes, since that's what was being sold. He'd watched him run shoots for Vogue before so - while he'd never been the model - he had a small idea of what to expect.

Both Kurt and Peter snapped their heads up so fast, it almost gave them headrush. Kurt then chuckled, while Peter tried to find a good place where he could stuck his head in, and while Sebastian got changed Kurt hung another ensemble on the racket, a blue colored combined one, only this one had a not so striaght line on the lapels of the jacket. When Sebastian came back out Kurt grabbed a step-on, which he used so the models would stand on it, so he could do any proper fixing. "Get on this, please."

"Yes sir," Sebastian replied with a wink, stepping up onto the stand dutifully, to let Kurt fix up anything with the outfit. When Kurt first told him about his idea to create his own fashion line, he'd agreed straight away, though he'd been apprehensive to see what Kurt came up with to sell. Sometimes he didn't quite get Kurt's designs, which wasn't to say he didn't think his husband was talented - because he was. But he didn't get fashion, whether or not it was Kurt's designs. And to sell to the mass market was different to selling to runways. But the couple of ideas Kurt had showed him so far had been - in his uneducated opinion - brilliantly and easily marketable. "This looks good," he commented, as Kurt fixed it up, "I love the colour."

Kurt looked up at him from his spot on the floor, where he was on his knees fixing the lower ends of the pants. "Thanks. A long path from  being a Puerto Rican pride float, huh?" He chuckled, then got on his feet and gave the jacket a slight tug. "There. All done. Okay so... Let's start with the pictures then, shall we?"

Sebastian laughed, "you're never going to let me live that down, are you? I was a dick in high school, this is well established." He waited and nodded when Kurt said all done, stepping off the step, "sure. You or Peter just tell me how to pose and I'll do that." He wasn't sure what type of photos they'd want, whether it'd be some real simple ones, just standing and the shot focused on the clothes, or whether they'd also be more artistic like a photoshoot, but he was pretty sure they'd turn out great either way.

Kurt chuckled and shook his head. "Oh honey, no. That will last at least a couple of years longer" He nodded at Peter, who came over and lead Sebastian to where the photo shoot spot was, surrounded by a couple of big lights, and a blue background on the wall. There was also a stool there, which Peter told Sebastian he could use at his will, then he put himself behind the camera and told him they would do a couple of test shots to see which angle worked the best.

"It's been nearly ten," Sebastian said in protest, not quite believing how long it had been since high school. Sometimes he still couldn't quite believe that after nearly ten years after high school, here he was - married to Kurt Hummel. The man - well, boy at the time - he wanted to hate. And did for a while. But their chance meeting in New York had sealed their fate, and he couldn't be happier now. He wasn't entirely sure what to do or how to pose... he was confident and happy with how he looked, but he'd never exactly been a model for the camera before. But he knew the focus here would be on how the clothes looked so he tried to do his best - taking direction from both Peter and Kurt.

Kurt worked on the board, where he could arrange the order on which the clothes would be shown, pretty much like on an actual show; every once in a while he would look up and smiled at the way Sebastian looked while trying to look his best for the camera, and it was pretty hot actually. When Peter said to him to give the camera his sexy looks Kurt blushed and buried his head down on the board. His husband's sexy look was his kryptonite.

Sebastian caught Kurt looking away and smirked at him, which Peter caught on camera and said that was exactly what he was looking for. Of course it was. They took plenty of photos, and then some standard ones of just the clothing, from both the back and front - like you would normally see on a website. "Okay, I think that's that outfit done," Peter commented, looking down at the camera, "got plenty of the total look, and each piece individually for the shop pages." Sebastian took the next pieces Kurt gave him and got changed again, and the whole shoot became a rhythm they got into.

Kurt enjoyed loving the way Sebastian eased into it, like it was something he would do every day. He was a natural, with the right attitude, and of course the perfect look. They did another two sets of clothes, which left only one for the actual video. "Baby, it's like you're a fish in the ocean. Like you belong here, you know? You're already my muse, so I suppose this was the logical next step, huh?" Kurt chuckled as he fixed the lapels on his light being, almost asimetric jacket, over a bit darker beige pants and light blue shirt.

Sebastian grinned at Kurt when he said that and gave a short bow in thanks, "why thanks, babe." He winked at him, but secretly he was glad the photos were turning out (or so Peter was saying, he hadn't seen any of them). While he never doubted his looks persay, he had worried that Peter or Kurt would think he was too stiff, or just not right. But he found he was actually enjoying it, now they'd got into a rhythm of Kurt dressing and accessorising him, and Peter telling him how to pose (with input from Kurt). "This is actually fun," he admitted to Kurt as he fixed the jacket, "hopefully it all comes together in the end. Okay! How do you want me?" He said to Peter, as he went back to the shooting area to shoot the last outfit.

Kurt almost let slip something like 'oh, I can tell what or how I want you right now', but he stopped himself just in time. He couldn't deny that seeing Sebastian like that was making him really horny, but he was far too busy to focus on anything else. Peter gave him some intructions to walk up and down the runway they had set in the room, then turned a couple of fans on, which made the light blue fabrics that hung off the wall float around the stage. "Okay, give me that sexy look again, Sebastian" Peter said, then got closer to him and spoke quietly. "Focus on Kurt. Model just for him, and forget about everything else." He smiled at him, then took his place behind the set camera.

Sebastian laughed, "oh, Peter, if I was modelling just for Kurt I wouldn't be wearing any clothes." His smile grew wider at the unamused looked Peter gave him and then he raised his hands in a surrender motion, "sorry, sorry. I'm focusing." He shook his hands out, tilting his head from side to side to snap him out of it and then nodded, "right, I'm good." He looked over at Kurt like Peter had told him too, focusing on him as he smirked, changing positions as Peter directed.

Kurt busied himself uploading the pictures from Peter's camera to his laptop so he could study them and pick the best ones, although in this case it would be difficult, since they were all perfect. Of course, it was Sebastian. At  one moment he looked up and caught his husband looking at him in that particular way he knew made him weak on the knees; he found himself staring at the way his body seemed to sway to the music, and even if it was a short thing, it felt like it went on for hours. 'Kurt?' He blinked back to reality and saw Peter next to him. "Hmm?" 'I was asking if it was kay. If you liked it at all'' Kurt cleared his throat and nodded. "It was perfect, Peter. As usual, you're always the best. And on the plus side-" He looked up and saw Sebastian coming towards him. "-you also had the perfect model" he finished with a grin on his face.

Sebastian smirked when he heard Kurt's words, walking into earshot. "Aw, thanks babe." He leaned in and kissed him quickly, wiping his hand across his forehead. The lights from the shoot that Peter had used to get everything looking good had been hot so he was sweating a bit. "Do you need anymore shots tonight?"

Kurt quickly grabbed a couple of tissues and handed them to Sebastian so he could clean his forehead, then shook his head. "I think that's enough for now. I'll do all the necessary edits after Peter sends it all to me, and work on it then. You can take those off now, baby." Peter said that if that was all for the time being he would go, and Kurt and Sebastian thanked him and said good night.

Sebastian waved and watched Peter leave, leaning on the table with his head propped up on his hand. He smiled at him in goodbye and then as soon as the door was shut behind him, turned to grin at Kurt, leaning in. "So... when you say take these off..."

Kurt looked up from his tablet, where he was typing in some final details, and grinned. "I meant just that. Leave them hanging inside the booth, so they can be picked up in the morning." He licked his lips. "Whether you decide to put your own clothes back on or not, that's entirely up to you, baby." He giggled, then pressed Save on his screen and put it down. "Would you like me to help you with that?"

Sebastian pouted when Kurt told him that, but he supposed having his husband take them off would likely end in disaster. "It's okay," he replied and went behind the screen, taking the clothes off and putting them on the hanger. And then - of course - he did exactly as Kurt had suggested. He left his clothes from earlier still thrown over the screen, waiting to be put back on, and stepped back out naked, wrapping his arms around Kurt. "You're so hot when you run photoshoots like that, did you know? Bossing people around."

Aware of what he had asked Sebastian to do, and with the adreanline of seeing his own designs in display like that, Kurt worked quickly in finishing what needed to be done, so when he felt his arms around him, so familiar and warm, he smiled and leaned back on him. "Hmm... Is that right? Is that you're way of saying you like me bossing you around, baby?" He moaned softly as he felt his cock poking his lower back.

Sebastian smirked and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, "mmm... maybe I am. It was hot. You were so confident." He trailed a finger along Kurt's arm and pressed his lips to his cheek, "didn't you have fun?"

Kurt bit his lip down as the heat slowly rised inside of him, his eyelids fluttering when his lips touched his skin. "Oh, I did. I sure did. Doing what I love, with the man I love... That's everything to me..." He chuckled softly, his hand reaching back to let his fingers brush over Sebastian's erection. "So, you liked me being the boss? Does that mean you would do anything I'd ask you right now, baby...?"

Sebastian's lips kissed his way down Kurt's skin, making their way down his neck. He gasped softly against his skin when he felt Kurt's fingers ghost over him. "Mmm, you should try it and see," he replied, teasingly.

Kurt bit his lip down, his eyelids fluttering as the warmth of Sebastian'ss lips against his skin shot through him like fire, his hand moving on his erection slowly but firmly. "Mmm... How about.... you pull my pants down, bend me over this desk and let me feel that wicked tongue of yours, hmm?" He turned his head a bit so hee could look at him and grinned. "That's an order."

Sebastian smirked wickedly when Kurt turned to look at him, "is that so? Well, in that case, sir, yes, sir." He winked at him with a laugh, but then spun him around to face him so he could kiss him deeply as he walked them over to the desk. When they reached the desk, he kissed him one last time before turning him around and bending him over it. "Stay there," he said, walking over to check if the door was locked because he wasn't entirely sure if the building was empty since he knew Kurt spend a lot of late nights here, or Peter could have come back to get something he forgot... he wouldn't want somebody to walk in and for Kurt to get in trouble or something. Once he was satisfied it was locked, he walked back to Kurt, and leaned his body over him, "where was I?" He kissed the back of his neck, letting his hands slip under the fabric of Kurt's shirt before making their way down to pull Kurt's trousers and briefs off in one go.

Kurt gasped when their lips met again, his fingers sliding through the man's chesnut hair and gripping it while he was moved backwards to the desk. His body felt like about to explode when he was bent over like that, and from the position he was he couldn't see what Sebastian was doing, but he did hear the 'click' of the lock on the door. He smirked when he heard his voice behind him again, his fingers fisting onto nothing when his hands touched him in the way that never failed to make hm crazy. He gasped when all the sudden his ass was bare naked and totally exposed. "Fuck, baby that's so hot... mmm..." He wiggled his ass at him and giggled.

Sebastian pushed Kurt's shirt up his back so he could kiss his way down it, but he didn't waste time in taking it off. He moved his lips down Kurt's back slowly, mouthing along the skin until he knelt down behind him. He spread his cheeks with his hands. "Tell me what you want again," he said, his voice low, his breath brushing against Kurt's entrance.

Kurt was glad when Sebastian finally took his shirt off him, the fabrics much in the way of everything he was craving to feel at that moment. He moaned softly as each peck on his already heated skin felt like a blowtorch, then grunted when he felt his man's breath touching him in the most intimate, and dirty way. After clearing his throat as best as he could he looked at  him behind his shoulder. "I want your tongue in me now. "

Sebastian looked up a bit, just so he could see Kurt's head looking over his shoulder at him. He smirked and nodded. "As you wish," he replied, a throwback to the time Kurt had made him watch Princess Bride. He leaned  forward, breathing out slowly, teasingly, before he pushed his tongue forward, slipping into Kurt's entrance just slightly, before pressing in a little deeper.

Kurt bit his lip down when he met Sebastian's gaze, and although he tried to be the dominant part on that particular ocassion, he was very aware of the effect those green esmeralds had on him when he looked at him like that. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when he finally felt the warm and moisty tip pushing slightly through his walls, his whole body jerking a little as a rush of heat went through it, then groaned almost too loudly when he finally slid in, his hands now fisted in small, tight balls as he allowed himself to truly feel the lust taking over. "Oh my god... oh.. mmm.. fuck... yes... yes... oh baby... ah..."

Sebastian narrowed his tongue, sliding it deeper inside Kurt's tight walls, fueled by the sounds his husband was making. He held onto his ass as he did, steadying himself, as he moved his head moving back and forth as his tongue kept sliding inside of him with increasing ease.

Kurt grunted and leaned his head down, his arms now used as pillow under him, but soon he had to move them to grasp onto the edges of the desk, the increasing heat making it difficult for him to keep balance on his feet. He bit his lip down so he would try not to be too loud, but that was becoming less unlikely with each passing second. He reached down and grabbed onto Sebastian's hair, pushing his face deeper in his ass. "Your tongue feels so good in me... fuck... mmm..." He moaned and let  go of him when his body gave a sudden jerk. "You need to fuck me soon, baby... I want it so bad..."

Sebastian let out a muffled chuckle when Kurt pushed him deeper but didn't complain in the slightest, letting his tongue sink deeper inside of him. He narrowed it, moving it in and out of the tight muscles, swallowing his taste. He pulled away from him and licked his lips, "is that another order?" He asked, with a teasing grin, before ducking his head back down and pushing his tongue into him again.

If Kurt were to have his way, he would have made Sebastian eaten him out until he came, and then some more, but he also knew he wanted so much more than just that, no matter how good his husband's wicked tongue felt inside of him. He grabbed onto his hair and pulled him off his ass, the grin on his face mixed with a flush of lust. "Get up and fuck me, Smythe. Now."

Sebastian grinned, and flicked his tongue against Kurt's entrance one more time before standing up behind him. "Sir, yes, sir," he said with a wink. He was still completely naked from before, so he didn't have to worry about the hassle of clothing or anything of the sort. Lining himself up against Kurt, he started to slowly push forward, his hands gripping to Kurt's hips so he could steady himself as the tight muscle wrapped around him.

Without having to look behind him, Kurt could feel Sebastian moving, and that alone made his heart race, his teeth biting on his lip hard. His body jerked a little when he first felt him pushing in, his own hands reaching back to hold onto Sebastian's on his hips, while he allowed  the initial burn to pass, his cock twitching as the heat of it all came down.  He took a deep breath and pushed his ass back on him just a bit.

Sebastian pressed forward until he was completely buried inside of Kurt, stopping to let him adjust. He bent over him, pressing soft kisses at the back of his neck. "Tell me when you're good babe," he said, his voice low, resisting the urge to move his hips just yet.

Kurt whimpered as he felt Sebastian sliding all the way into him, his knees shaking a bit before he focused in relaxing enough. He licked his lips and reached up when he felt Sebastian's breath on his neck, his fingers grabbing onto his hair. "Mm... I'm good now... Move..."

Sebastian's grip on Kurt's hips tightening as he nodded. Biting down on his lip, he slowly pulled himself out of Kurt before pressing back in. He started a slow and steady pace, moving in and out of his husband. "God, you feel so good," he groaned.

Kurt moaned out loud, eyes fluttering as he felt Sebastian moving behind him, feeling like every move buried him an inch further inside of him. "Fuck, you do too, baby.. ah.. ahhh... oh, so big... mm..." He licked his lips a bit, his hips slowly rolling to let him in a bit more, then he fully started moving back on him, his ass bouncing against his lap, as he fucked himself shamelessly on his husband's cock.

Sebastian couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face when Kurt started practically fucking himself on him. "Babe, you're doing all the work," he said with a laugh, but god, it felt so good. He held onto his hips and started thrusting inside of him, faster and harder until he was practically slamming forward, deep into his husband.

Kurt chuckled breathlessly. "Aren't you suppose to do as I say?" he quiped back at him, then he moaned loudly when he finally started slamming into him, their bodies smacking together harshly as he reached deep inside of him with every thrust he gave. "Oh gosh, yes.. yes.. just like that, baby.. mm... fucking harder... harder..."

"Harder?" Sebastian asked, with a smirk, "I can do that." With his hands digging into Kurt's hips, his thrusts quickened and he fucked into Kurt harder. He moaned as Kurt's tight walls swallowed him in, pounding forward, hitting the spot inside Kurt with every thrust.

Kurt let out a strangled cry when Sebastian pounded hard into him, their bodies smacking together loudly, and also making the desk underneath Kurt squeak dangerously. With the sweet and thorogh assault to his soft spot he did his best to hold back, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he was done. "Baby.. I'm so close.. Fuck, don't stop... don't.. stop... ah.. ahh.. fuck.. ngg..."

Sebastian let go of Kurt's hips with one hand, and slid it between Kurt's body and the desk, wrapping his fingers around his cock. "Not ... fuck ... planning on ... mmm ... it." He grunted, continuing to slam into Kurt, his hand now working his cock in tandem with his hips, wanting to feel the way Kurt clenched around him.

Kurt gasped when he felt Sebastian's skillful hand around his throbbing member, his teeth sinking through his lips as he felt the heat within him raise because of what his husband was doing to him. He stood back up a bit, his hand reaching back to grab onto what he could of Sebastian's hair, then pulled it hard, making his head come closer, and he kissed him wantonly while his body was being fucked in the most dirty and perfect way. "Fuck, I'm gonna come soon, baby... ahhh.... mmm..." He could feel his hole starting to clench around Sebastian's cock.

Sebastian grunted when Kurt's fingers slid in and grabbed his hair, not protesting as their lips clashed together. The new angle made their bodies press together even more, the sound of skin slapping together still being heard around the room. When he felt Kurt's muscles clench around his cock he moaned, using the one hand that was still holding onto his hip guide him, as he slammed forward, his own orgasm hitting him at the same time as Kurt's, a wave of pleasure crashing over his body.

Kurt whimpered when Sebastian's pace got much faster and harder, both their orgasms hitting at the same time, feeling like a wave that cascaded on both of them hard. With his body still jerking with the tingles of his climax he turned his head to look at Sebastian and grinned. "Wow... Just when I think you cant possibly be more perfect-"

Sebastian gave a cheeky grin, "well, you know me. I love proving the world wrong." Their bodies moved together slowly as they both came down from their highs and then they stayed like that for a few moments, breathing heavily, until Sebastian pulled out of Kurt carefully. "I stopped thinking you couldn't get more perfect a long time ago," he pulled Kurt off the desk and spun him around so he was facing him, "every day I wake up and think you're more perfect than the day before."

Kurt hummed softly while they stayed together, deeply connected like that, enjoying the feeling of his husband's arms around him, then winced slightly when he pulled out of him, the ugly empty feeling only made better when he spun him around and he put his arms around his neck. "Why thank you, my love. It's good to know that I can still surprise you" he said with a little giggle, then kissed him soundly and sighed happily. "We should get dressed. I'm starting to get a bit cold here" he said, both of them standing there naked as they were,

Sebastian nodded, smiling at Kurt. "Well, good. Because you can and do. Like today, you owned this shoot. I can't wait to see the photos and how your website is going to turn out. Just wait, people will be queuing up to buy your stuff." He laughed, "I've got changed so many times today, what's one more?" He gave Kurt a quick kiss on the lips and they got dressed, Sebastian getting his clothes from behind the screen first.

Kurt chuckled and kissed him back before letting him go so he could get dressed again. "I sure hope so. Either way, doing this with you was a lot of fun, baby." He too got dressed again quickly, then joined him behind the screen. "We should definitely do it again. Both things, actually" he said with a cheeky grin, then gathered all his things before taking Sebastian's hand and leaving the studio, and the building.

END SCENE.

[samtheflamingomain]

one week down

I went into inpatient rehab last Monday and figured now would be a good time to give an update. I have a lot to say, but I know not everyone cares deeply about every minute detail, so I'll do a quick highlight reel for those mildly interested.

There's 5 of us, 3 men, 2 women. I'm the youngest by 7 years, and the only one here for just alcohol and weed. We have 6h of mandatory classes/groups every day except weekends when it's 1.5h. The classes are pretty boring and mostly stuff I learned from entry-level CBT/DBT with a few hidden gems of wisdom here and there.

We wake up at 8, DIY breakfast, class for 2.5h, lunch, 1.5h class, break, 1h class, dinner, an optional walk around the block, another 1h class, then bedtime meds and last smoke break at 10pm. No mandatory lights out time but I'm usually exhausted and out by 10:30.

The food sucks, but I'm trying to lose weight so I'm glad it does. I've already lost 6 pounds. On the other hand, I can't remember the last time I ate 2 meals with vegetables for a week straight. I'm smoking 3 times as much as I ever have, because everyone else is a "pack-a-day" smoker and it's been great to take away cravings and also socialize.

I really like the people in the group, and there are 2 staff members who are very well-liked because they're great, 2 that are okay, 2 that are serious hard-asses, and one who's just an outright asshole piece of shit with no business being in the healthcare field.

I'm in a weird kind of mindset where I go back and forth between "I never need to drink again" and "I can probably get drunk once or twice a month, the others here are much worse off than me, so comparatively, my addictions aren't such a big deal". I know that neither of these mindsets are truly healthy. The first because I know there will be days where I will want to drink and I need to plan for that, and the second because I simply cannot do moderation, and my life and problems aren't diminished by the existence of others' problems.

As for poppers, the other thing I'm quitting, I know I can never do them again. Poppers are all-or-nothing. It's impossible to moderate them because I would just do them all day every day, and the few times I've tried to quit them myself, by day 3 I'm digging through garbage to make a DIY bong. Quitting alcohol makes me restless, which I can manage. Quitting poppers makes me so depressed that I get suicidal.

Sorry, that was the "short" version but it got away from me. Now for a bit more detail.

I had to be 5 days sober of alcohol to come in, so it's been nearly 2 full weeks since my last drink, and exactly 2 weeks since the last time I got drunk. I still fantasize about getting sloshed again, but the rational part of my brain is slowly coming back and overriding those thoughts. I haven't had a severe craving to the point where I want to quit or even to the point where I've been super restless, largely because they keep us busy.

Poppers however... on day 2 I was having a fucking breakdown. On the floor sobbing. I went out for a smoke and one of the girls, call her Lisa, was out. I told her how bad I wanted to rip a popper and she said this: "What if you sucked really hard on the cigarette, held it in, then exhaled?" And it fucking worked. Instant headrush. Only about 20% as good as a real popper, but enough that I instantly felt better. Homegirl is a life-saver; I never would've even thought of that because I'd never imagined it would work. Part of doing a popper is smoking a piece of unfiltered cigarette very quickly, so I assumed smoking through a filter wouldn't get the job done.

I miss my kitty, but I'm not homesick like everyone else. They all have kids and 3 are in long-term relationships. 2 are likely going to prison for shit they did while fucked up on opioids and want to show the court that they're working to better themselves and get clean. They have reasons to quit. I... I feel like I really don't.

Yeah, my health has been slowly deteriorating for the past 4-5 years, and I've been very overweight for the past 2-3 years (beer belly), and I spend more money on alcohol than I'd like to admit, but what I spend in a year, Lisa spends on heroin in a weekend. To make things harder for myself, I literally have not had a hangover in 2+ years. I could drink a 26er in 4 hours and wake up absolutely fine.

But I know that my way of life, getting blackout drunk 7 days a week, isn't sustainable. I know that some alcoholics do that for 50+ years, but I'm still pretty young, and I don't want to wake up at age 40 realizing I've pissed away 1/3rd of my life just being drunk.

I guess, when I really boil it down, I want to go back to who I was before I started drinking. I had so much potential to do great things when I graduated high school, and since then it's been a steady decline in my productivity and motivation.

Something that's surprised me about being here is that I've gotten more shit done in the past week than I do most MONTHS. There's a piano that I play for an hour a day, which I haven't done since I was a teenager. There's a treadmill I've used a few times. There's enough down-time for me to work on some embroidery and drawing, but most importantly, I started writing again.

I "finished" my first novel 8 years ago, and I've been trying to rewrite it in its entirety ever since. Draft One was 150,000 words, and Rewrite has been stuck at 25k for almost 2 years now. After a week, it's up to 35k.

And I think I have to attribute this to my lack of drinking. I never realized just how much it affected my motivation before. I used to open the document, force myself to crunch out a paragraph or two and then put it back on the shelf for a few months.

Now, I'm not forcing anything. It's coming to me. I'm inspired. I'm confident. I'm excited.

I've been feeling like I'd lost my spark, my drive to create things, for years now. And it's only been 2 weeks sober and I'm getting that spark back. I guess I do have a reason to quit: I'm not going to accomplish anything, or at least not anything I'm excited about, if I go back to drinking.

Another thing I've noticed is that I'm much more process-oriented. The task of writing always seemed too daunting and stressful because I just want the fucker to be done already. Now, I'm truly enjoying just getting through a scene or chapter. Even just a clever turn of phrase releases the Happy Chemical for me now.

To wrap up this absolute saga of epic length, I want to talk about the people a bit more. It's pretty rare that I get put into a group of people and I genuinely like all of them and none of them annoy me. The last time I was in a classroom with others, we were literally "learning" to identify parts of sentences and doing absolute beginner-level word processing. It was agonizing, because every single person in that class was a fucking idiot and would ask the stupidest questions, take forever to read a paragraph aloud while mispronouncing very common words. I'm not being a know-it-all dick, either. It's objectively true. How do I know? Out of 25, only me and one other person passed the course despite them all attending class regularly.

All that to say, these people are genuinely smart and likeable. John is an absolute encyclopedia on guitars, machinery, cars, and has done pretty much every skilled trade under the sun. He's also had a lot of interesting life experiences. Rick is a yoga guru who brought 12 books ranging from Zen Buddhism to abstract physics, and while I don't believe in 'chakras' and 'healing energies', he doesn't annoy me because he really only talks about it in relation to himself and how it's helped him, which I can respect. Christy is a PSW, and I mention that because she has a way of phrasing things in a wise, educated way, because that's how PSWs get good: they learn to communicate very well. She actually native and lives on a reserve, so she always has something interesting to talk about. Lisa is so well-traveled that when I mentioned I could name all the capitals, she pulled out fucking Tajikistan. She'd never been there. She's also South African and lived during apartheid, and is much more knowledgeable on the subject than myself, and I consider myself pretty well-read on it.

There's no stupid questions that take up half the class to answer, nobody takes 15 minutes to read a paragraph, and everyone is truly putting in the work.

I'm still nervous about coming back home, but my worries get less and less daunting with each passing day.

One week down, 2 more to go. Back at 'er at 9am tomorrow, rain or shine.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[sargenthouse]

CVLT NATION interviews Mutoid Man // CVLT NATION

Together with Amenra’s Mass VI, the most recent Mutoid Man record, the amazing War Moans, was by far the album I most listened to in 2017. Because of that, I couldn’t let the year end without doing an interview with the band. Full article via CVLT NATION. 

Recently I had the pleasure to talk with the singer/guitar player Stephen Brodsky (Cave In) about the record that features some of the strongest tracks ever written by this powerful three piece, completed with Ben Koller (Converge and All Pigs Must Die) on drums and Nicholas Cageao on bass.

In the interview, we also talked about having guests like Marty Friedman (Megadeth) and Chelsea Wolfe on the album, the difference between playing with Cave In and Mutoid Man, his main influences as a guitar player, among other stuff.

Your latest record, War Moans, is probably the band’s most diverse work, with a lot of guests and really different approaches, with some songs that seem to come directly from a classic metal record like “War Moans,” “Headrush” and “Open Flame,” and other tracks that are a bit different, like “Wreck and Survive” and “Bandages.” Was this something intentional, to have a more diverse work? And how was the writing process compared to Bleeder, which was the first time you worked as a three piece?

Stephen: “Open Flame” was the first song we wrote for the album, and “Wreck And Survive” came second. In hindsight, I’d say both set the course for some different vibes to explore. Ben had a heavy hand in constructing the final track listing – side A has the immediate, accessible songs, and side B has the adventurous and challenging ones. I think it works well.

As I said in my previous question, there’s a more clear metal vibe (especially thrash metal) on the record with all the complicated riffs and solos. For me, it sounds like a really great metal record with a fresh approach to the genre, with different influences coming together on a more classic sound, let’s say. Were you maybe more into this kind of metal lately?

To me, it sounds like there are more road miles under our belts on War Moans than anything before it. Songs like “Gnarcissist,” “Bridgeburner” and “Reptilian Soul” from the previous records have always felt great to play live, and I distinctly remember wanting to go further with that vibe at the beginning of the writing process for a new album.

By the way, I’ve read that you’ve done the pre-production at the Saint Vitus Bar, in New York – where you also record the Two Minutes to Late Night show. How was that – do you basically use the bar stage to rehearse and write the songs? And do you think the vibe of doing this on an actual stage had any effect on how the record came out?

We set up for rehearsal at Vitus like we were gonna play a show. A few times, the neighbors did complain about volume, probably because they’re not used to hearing that sort of thing during the day. But most of the time it’s pretty chill. The luxury of rehearsing at one of the best venues on the planet resonates deeply within our operation – we can’t thank those guys enough!

You had Chelsea Wolfe on two tracks of the record, “Wreck and Survive” and “Bandages.” How did that happen? I know that, besides being on the same label, you toured together on the Converge Blood Moon shows in 2016? And did she have any input on the writing of these songs?

We’re lucky that Chelsea and Ben Chisolm were available during that time. The Blood Moon experience definitely laid the foundation for working together, and we were floored by what they sent us – a rad mix of stuff emphasizing what was already there along with some cool surprises.

Besides Chelsea, you had another great guest on the record, the one and only Marty Friedman (Megadeth). So I wanted to know how that happened, and how did you feel having him on your record? Were you a fan of Megadeth – if so, please tell what are your favorite records/songs from Megadeth with him.

Mutoid Man was playing a venue in St. Louis about a week or so before Marty was scheduled to play there – we gave the promoter a Bleeder CD and asked him to pass it along. Apparently he did, Marty liked what he heard and got in touch, wanting to collaborate. Needless to say, we jumped right in. Rust In Peace was my gateway and since then I’ve come to love a bunch of Marty’s solo work.

You’ve been touring a lot with the band and are already confirmed for Roadburn and some other festivals in 2018. Were you surprised with this quick growth of Mutoid Man, which started as a kind of side project with just you and Ben and became one of the best metal bands of the decade?

When Ben and I first started jamming on this stuff in 2012 under the name “Narcoleptic Beagle,” I was expecting it to be just a fun recording project. Ben had the idea to turn it into a band and I’m grateful that he did – basically everything since then has been a real treat and I’m enjoying the ride.

And do you feel any difference on stage, maybe more exposed, to be the only guitar player in Mutoid Man, whereas you have two guitars on Cave In? I’ve read that you recently took guitar lessons. Why did you decide to do that after so many years of experience? And how did that move and what you learned influence the way you write and play with Mutoid Man?

There’s definitely a difference in playing and writing for both. In Mutoid, it’s a test of pushing myself, and with Cave In it’s about the collective pushing of both myself and Adam, while tapping into some of those Clouds vibes for good measure. I took lessons from a fantastic guitarist named Andee Black. Got my fingers doing things outside of my wheelhouse, which as a guitar player is important, because some say we’re the laziest musicians on the planet.

Speaking about this, what are your biggest influences as a guitar player?

My dad is probably the main reason I play music. Growing up, there was always a guitar kicking around the house, and at one point, he showed me how to play G’n’R “Patience.” Then I thought if I could be more like Slash, maybe life would be better. I came to realize that James Hetfield’s sense of rhythm playing really sets the bar for finesse. And Jimmy Page gives us all something to aspire towards that will forever remain untouchable. But Kurt Cobain brought it back to earth and showed us that good melody conquers everything. Can’t forget to mention Jerry Cantrell’s unparalleled ability to mix heroin metal with an eastern vibe. Finally, there’s Kurt Ballou, who helped create a truly unique foundation of heavy music with “Halo In A Haystack” in 1994.

This is the last one. Recently a picture from a Cave In rehearsal was posted on the band’s Facebook page. What can we expect from the band for 2018? Maybe a new record?

Cave In jammed for the first time in over a year and it felt great. Some new stuff in the works – definitely excited about it, thanks for asking.

[sleep-silent-angel]

Jar Of Hearts

Summary: Jensen and Y/N had a love that happens once in a lifetime, until it slipped through their fingers. Years later, he has moved on, but deep in his heart she will always be the one he dreams of. Y/N returns with a secret he’ll never know.

Characters: Jensen, Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: ANGST, fluff, romance, sadness, guilt, pain, regret, tears…. I could go on.

A/N: originally written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s Anti-Valentine’s challenge, but got hopelessly delayed. Based on Christina Perri song by the same title. Lyrics are bolded, flashbacks/back story are italicized. Beta’d by the lovely @eyes-of-a-disney-princess and @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

Tags: 

JAR OF HEARTS

You sit at the small coffee bar table all alone, fingers worrying at the cup of forgotten coffee going colder every moment, your knees are pressed tightly together below the tabletop, ankles crossed and one foot bouncing in double-time to the heartbeat you can feel at the back of your tongue. A shadow passes across your hands and you glance up to the glass door and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. Hipsters in their chill wide cropped pants scoff at the new professionals in knockoff Stella McCartney. Still, every one of them has a phone pasted to their cheeks. Sun spots like camera flares from adjoining windows draw the straggling hopefuls in to see and be seen. Everyone chooses their part to perform. Great. This makes it easy to get lost in the slew of fake laughter and too-wide eyes.

‘This is pointless. Why did I even bother? What do I hope to accomplish?’ you whisper to yourself as your eyes range over the table top and the usual spotty utensils strangled in a paper napkin next to your elbow. A presence stops next to the chair opposite you. Without raising your head, you take your  hands from the cup and curl your fingers into fragile fists, eyes clenched shut in a silent prayer for mercy. With the contained effort of purpose, you lay your trembling palms flat on the surface in front of your cup. Only then do you open your eyes and turn your face up. To him. That one special “him”.

Her face turned to him over a shoulder, her doe-wide eyes perfectly painted in the smudged makeup style of the season. She had responded to a name called out over the din of the party, a question bubbling in her clear Y/E/C eyes. Her face tipped down in a pouting smile later that evening, her eyelashes brushing whisper light on cheeks pink with cold in the wind. Jensen’s stomach flips a little when she looks back up at him with hope and determination. The sun shines in her eyes and on her cheeks, the moon glows on her brow, heaven shimmers in her laugh, promise flows from her fingertips.

Hands linked on the center console of his car in a dark night drive. Breathlessly laughing with arms linked at some outdoor folk festival. Excited squeals and exuberant laughing, Jensen spins her in his strong arms with the news he’ll be signing with the WB network on a brand new show, the one they both wanted more than life. His face morphing from tired and  to brilliant when she turns to him, pride inflating his chest presenting her on his arm to the executives at the spring upfronts.

He’s never aware of her collecting nods and praises for herself, keeping careful tally of who does what for whom, and how high up the credits their names appear. He watches her among his ‘people’, flashing kind smiles and offering practiced praise to the most advantageous ears. Catching her eye across the tables, over a frosted glass of near crystal champagne, he doesn’t even try to disguise the burn in his stare, the want for her curling his lip. Goosebumps immediately chase up her bare arms, liquid heat floods from her throat to her thighs. It’s that look in his eye, the tip of his chin, the peek of his tongue - he’s going to wind her up like a clock, then unwind her one stroke at a time. The back door of the waiting car barely clunks behind them before her thighs are wide and his pants are at his knees.

The promising headrush of working an executive room gives way to cold silences in the car, missed dinners, then laying back to back in the dark with eyes wide open. Shaking her hand off his arm with a glare as her heart dissolves into tatters. The sun rose and set on their passion and the lightness in their chests.  They were perfect, until they weren’t. Until she decided he had gone as far as he could in a show going nowhere - let’s be real - and she still had rungs to climb.

Her last memory of him are with his lips pressed thin and tight, eyebrows wrinkled with consternation, her brimming eyes mournfully begging him to believe her. Secrets hide in her lips, defiance tips her chin, remorse darkens her cheeks.

He stands silent and thick, arms crossed over a tailored chambray button down, solid legs in precisely faded denim planted firmly in a defensive width. His mossy eyes betray recognition, but his expression remains impassive and closed. You wither under his level gaze, a little wiggle in your seat and your last remaining confidence draining away. You pull at the hem of your three year old shirt and dry your palms over your box store jeans.

“Would you like to sit? I’m waiting for someone,” you offer thinly, if only to break the increasingly strained silence. A flicker of his eyelashes to the chair at his hip, a slow blink back to you.

“I won’t be here that long.” His voice is soft, restrained, and deeper in tone than you remembered.

His laugh that night they met was high and a little nervous. A week later at breakfast after their first night together it was rich and easy, full of life and vigour. Light amiable conversations over plastic cups of beer and a picnic table, whispered affections in half dark with fingers laced between them, lush husky male timbres over her shoulder into her ear under the shower spray. A single word of demand whispered against the cup of her ear at a glittering award show sends shivers chasing up and down her spine. The seemingly innocent phrase that has them both dissolving into fits of giggles and blushes at the family holiday table, the secret joke unspoken between them. He still can’t hear those words without a tingle of humour and a short cough to hide his fond smile.

At the end his voice is lower, with an edge of worry, confronting her about the message on her phone. The very last there is no sound at all but for the heavy puff of breath through his nose when he handed her the last box of her possessions and closed the heavy door.

“Please, Jensen. I don’t want to talk this way.” Of course, he doesn’t want to talk at all, but she gestures to the chair. Uneasy and reluctant, he lowers into the narrow chair and slouches in a purposefully dominant open posture.

“I shouldn’t even be here, Y/N. Shouldn’t have given you the time of day. ‘Cause all that’s waiting is regret. But you come around asking my friends about me, asking if I’m still around, instead of looking for me yourself.”

“Would you have listened to me if I had?” You challenge, no little bit defensively. He levels a cool, detached gaze in reply. He may be a skilled actor, but you know those eyes; how wild the storms are that rage inside them. You know his micro expressions, how every millimeter of movement speaks a dozen emotions.

He’s guarded in public, his postures and smooth words performed according to the precise script his managers and coaches have laid out. There’s just enough room for his charming personality to make the public squeal and swoon, his smile was polished as a zirconia. He wore his discomfort with intimacy like an ill-fitting undershirt. Shoulders too high, jaw joint too square from clenching, lips pulled into a different smile than his eyes are. But in the back seat of the car back to the hotel, Y/N can tell. She knows just from the way he holds her hand that he doesn’t feel it. Doesn’t feel the adoration, only the judgement echoing around between his own ears. She’ll praise, right on cue, “you looked great” and he’ll reply, right on cue, “they make me feel great,” and she’ll nod and beam, right on cue. Only she knows what he’s biting behind his teeth, the truth that he won’t voice until it’s just the two of them tangled in the dark under the sheets.

He makes no indication of a reply, but the left-down-right-left-up shift of his eyes, the slight bounce of his chin, the lick and press of his lips tells you all you need. This one means ‘conflicted’. Maybe you should have swallowed your fears and called him after all.

“How, ahh, how have you been, Jay?” You make at least a brave attempt at pleasantries, but he’s not willing to play along.

“Better than you, I’ve heard.”

You pull in a steadying breath through your nose, unwilling to be drawn into a battle of words with him. “I’ve heard that too. Congratulations on your engagement. She’s really beautiful.” He only nods faintly in acknowledgement. You barely register the slightest twitch in his jaw and the corner of his lip. “I wish you two all the best.”

Their names were written in the stars, Y/N showed him. On the first anniversary of moving in together, they laid out side by side in the sand on a moon flooded beach. He pointed high overhead to the brightest twinkle and named it for her. It’s still up there, Y/N’s star, which turned out to be an entire galaxy, whole worlds of Y/N stars. She stretched a finger out over his to draw out their names in the constellations.

“I already had the best. You lost the love I loved the most. You were my life, you were my future. I was a whole person for once. You understood me, you accepted me, you loved me because of the things I always thought were wrong with me. Because you had the same things wrong.” A wry smile curved his lips for only a breath, so brief you nearly miss it.

“After you ditched me for that writer, I learned to live half alive. It took so long just to feel alright, remember how to put back the light in my eyes. And I didn’t even laugh when I heard that he left you a month later for the next pair of tits. And then the “studio executive”, oh and the porn producer, and… and who was the last one, that tv director Will whatever? Isn’t he married to Kaylie Clark now? And then I did laugh. You know, I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed, ‘cause you broke all your promises.”

Her Y/E/C eyes half-lidded and brimming with emotion, gazing upward into his, just before their lips meet for the first time. She promises to be a part of the rest of his life, he affirms his promise to walk through anything with her. She promises her heart will always be his, should their stars rise or fall. Her lips are warm, full and soothing, like sinking into a sun-warmed surf. Her future disappears into his kiss. He is safety, security, promise, and devotion all spoken in the sweep of his tongue and the lush press of his lips. He pulls a stray hair trapped between their lips, she giggles and sighs. Her tank top strap slithers down her upper arm when she lowers it from around his neck. He laughs at her clothing getting ahead of them, she giggles and bites at her lip, and he slides the strap back into place with a hum of deep regret. He holds it there a moment longer, just to hold more of her.

Almost four years in the wake of her departing, he anticipates another first kiss, the infamous “last first kiss”. She is drop-dead sexy, funny, independent, confident, and a compassionate shoulder when he feels insecure and insufficient. He remembers their first kiss as firm - fearless. In the hopeful beginning he named it boldness, optimistic in the sure conviction of his decision to join life with her. In retrospect, he can’t summon any feelings of exhilaration at her touch. It was comfortable, practiced. Sufficient.

Hers is a beauty that turns vain, jealous and competitive. Her confidence made a subtle shift into defiance, which will only develop into superiority. Her youthful playfulness grew weary all too soon, she sighs and rolls her eyes with disapproval at his exuberance in living. The brave independence that he first admired in her, the indifference for the opinions of strangers, gradually developed into contempt, until she has become intolerant to any opinion but her own. It wasn’t long at all before she grew impatient with his troubled idiosyncrasies. To spare himself from her bitter criticism he swallows his fears and distress. He becomes adept at concealing his weakness from her, to be worthy of her fickle approval. Only he knows how brittle and crumbled his courage really is.

Was she always this judgmental? He tried to call her Bee once, and Shug, and was told with no mistaking never to do it again. First initials it is, then. When he winks across the room at her with lust in his eyes, she frowns in reply. Her reply isn’t a pink blush up her chest, it’s “Do you want something? Are you okay?” But she’ll be a good mother. She’ll look good on his arm. She’ll be good with his family. She’ll be good. But he’ll never find her name drawn in the stars. She doesn’t want a galaxy that she can’t hold.  

“And now you’re back - you don’t get to get me back. I have a life, a real life. And friends; good, loving friends. I have a regular show. I’m making a movie this year. I’m getting married next year. And she loves me, she’s - she’s good. Really good. And I’m happy. Couldn’t be happier, so it’s all… all good.” His head bobs, the corners of his lips rise, but his eyes never blink or stray from yours. So you’ll believe him, because he wants you to.

“You know, there was a time I thought we could have really done it.” As soon as the words are out, he blinks long and slow, tipping his head and pulling a thumb over his lips.

“Done… what?” Oh God, please don’t do it. Please don’t sit there now and tell me the life we wanted was in the palm of my hand.

“We could have gone the distance; got married, had a family together. I never even wanted that until you. What we had was something good.” Jensen shakes his head regretfully, then looks away from you to attempt to dismiss the unsettling feeling that he hates how much he still loves you. Your breath feels punched out of your chest.

“Jensen, we have something that is good. I need to show you-” You pitch forward urgently and reach for his hand, but he snatches it out of your reach before you could so much as graze his knuckles with your fingertips. Instead, his strong finger stabs toward you accusingly, viciously even while you stammer on to convince him to stay. Stay in his chair. Stay in your life. “Please. Jensen, you’ll see…”

“No. No, Y/N, no. NO! WE don’t have anything good. WE don’t have anything at all. I have nothing for you; not love, not fondness, you know, not even care anymore. And you… you have nothing … nothing at all that I could ever need or want. So don’t come back for me. Don’t come back at all. Who do you think you are?” His chair scrapes loudly under the table when he pushes to his feet in disgust and towers over you, becoming aware of the hush of voices near you, the discrete turning away of heads.

“Hm? Who do you think you are?”  Without another glance back, he turns on his heel and leaves, before he can throw himself into your arms and beg for your warmth again.

Just as he is going through the door he passes by a trim young lady with large sunglasses and an even larger bag, holding the hand of a boy about five years old. He holds the door for them politely, smiles a stranger’s greeting, tight but pleasant. He flicks the briefest glimpse at the honey haired boy with expressive grey-green eyes and a toy clutched in a fist. Something in Jensen’s chest catches and he sweeps a momentary glance over the child. It’s barely an instant, a flutter behind his breastbone, but then he breathes again and the moment is gone, and so is he.

Your best girlfriend and the boy approach your table. “Did he bail? Is he late?” You shake your head sadly in reply.

“No, you just missed him. He left, for good this time.”

“Girlfriend, forget him. Guys like him are one in a thousand around here. You don’t need him.”

“I wish to God that was true.” Your whisper trembles, you just don’t have the voice to say it out loud. Y/F/N tosses her head dramatically and waves a wild arm for a waitress.

The pink cheeked boy has scrambled up into your lap with a stuffed German Shepherd K9 dog in a miniature combat vest held out for you to inspect. “Mamma! Look! I saw a P’lice car! An’ a P’lice dog! An’ he had a coat an’ a badge an’ I gotta hold his… his… the… string!” You smooth his flying blond hair and kiss his head, looking over him at your friend.

“How exciting, JR! Did he give you that? And what are you going to call him?….”

@mrswhozeewhatsis @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @littlegreenplasticsoldier @awhiskeywithawinchester @daydreamingintheimpala @ilostmyshoe-79 @nichelle-my-belle @kittenofdoomage @bringmesomepie56 @oriona75 @faith-in-dean @rizlow1 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @demberly @heckyeahjensenackles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @climbthatmooselikeatree @sis-tafics @demondean-for-kingofhell @captianemwinchester (not letting me tag you, sorry)