You’re running One foot in front of the other Mile after mile Breath catching in your throat You’re running away Hands and mirrors and shards of glass behind your back Thorny words scratching your heels Cold gazes trying to impale you on the ground You’re running Running away Feet moving on autopilot Trying to escape from monsters with foul breath And beautiful pocelain faces Cold sweat on your forehead And headphones in your ears You’re running Running away Running away on a treadmill You’re running And the only thing that you’re running away from The only thing that’s real The only thing that you’re trying to run away from That’s you.
It's weird, but even though I am so limited in my ability to have friends, to socialize and to be part of more than one fandom and ship more than one ship I am still prettty eclectic regarding my taste in music. There are so many limitations in my life- I can't be around a lot of people, I can't be with a lot of people for a longer period of time, I'm a horrible group player, I'm reduced to basically one fandom. But stragely I am very flexible regarding my taste in music.
This can be seen as J2, wincest, but technically as everything else, too. It's supposed to be a mix of J2 and wincest(I couldn't decide) and from Jensen's/Dean's POV. You can see it as a short writing exercise I made for Les. The title is optional and a phrase I might re-use in the future.
Title: Cornflowers Blooming On Your Skin
There are lavender blossoms and cornflowers blooming on his skin, his limbs heavy and threatening to let him fall, but warm hands are holding him up. His eyelids are heavy, with exhaustion tugging at them and then there are lips on them, soft and light as butterflies, letting them fall shut. He can feel strong arms around him and it’s like their warmth is seeping into him, healing him from the inside and filling that dark hole that’s still inside of him. He’s carefully lifted up and set down on a soft surface that seems to suck any rest of energy that has been left right out of him and leaves him with a sigh. When he feels the mattress dip and a strong body press against his back he allows himself to drift off into sleep, knowing that there won’t be any nightmares tonight.
Some J2 drabble I wrote a few days ago for Leslie. Established relationship(kinda)
Title: Those Two
They couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t been together, always in each other’s pockets, always having the other one nearby. When one of them slept over at the other one’s they shared a bed. There was always one part of them touching- arms, fingertips, legs, feet- it didn’t feel right when they weren’t around each other, when they couldn’t reach out for each other. When they moved out and got their own apartments it didn’t change. Their lips slightly brushing, their hands slowly entwining when they were cuddling on the couch while watching a film- it just became part of their relationship, just as the nights they spent together in each other’s beds had always been a part of their life. It’s normal to them, the sleepy nose-kissing in the morning and the sweet phone calls during their lunch breaks.
Title: More Than Words Pairing: J2 Note: Small, mini-angsty. Kinda for Leslie. The narration is probably from Jensen's perspective. But you can see it as Jared, if you want to.
They live together. They work together. They spend more time with each other than with anyone else. They are just two guys that fit together. He feels, like he'll never find anyone else who will be able to make him the person he is now. He's in love. There's this warm fuzzy feeling inside of him, all the time. He wants to ask, if his feelings are requited. Every time. Wants to ask if that what seems to be between them is just something he imagines or if they are on the same page. Because he just doesn't know. He's always on the edge, can't know if he's interpreting too much in a sentence, a few words or not. He feels like a damn teenage girl. It's making him go crazy. And then it's all going down. Being drunk was never a good idea and being drunk and just the two of them? They don't do that often, mostly because they just don't have the time for a hangover. But this is different; this is them celebrating on another season, on another year together. And the way he says 'I'm so happy that I ended up together with you here', with that warm look on his face- he can't help but lean forward and press their lips together. It's soft and chaste, his heartbeat flutters and when he draws back he can't bring himself to look up. 'I just. I wanted to tell you this for a while. And. I just.' Why can't he just be confident enough to form normal sentences? Because this means so much more to him. More than he would have ever thought. There's just silence. And he knows. He knows that he's gone too far. He doesn't know what to do. Everything is a mess. A mess around him, a mess in his head and he just can't get a grip on what he did wrong. He thought that everything was pretty obvious and that he was just making the right step- and now he's left hanging, waiting for everything to crash. He screwed up. And he can't help it; he hurts too much, so much his eyes get all wet and huge. And then there's a warm hand over his and a shy grin shining at him. The tears fall even though. With a smile.