Open RP Post

[dreamedboy]

⛈️ Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
⛈️ General squick/trigger list.
⛈️ m/m for anything shippy.
⛈️ General headcanon for Proko. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
⛈️ Proko's kink list.
⛈️ This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

always dreamers; tattoos and other shenanigans;

[threesecrets]

[It's the night of one of Kavinsky's substance parties, so when Ronan goes to get his tattoo it's Proko that he asks to come with him. He's talked about it a little, about wanting it on his skin, but he hasn't shown anyone the sketches yet that he's been working on with the tattoo artist that K had found for him. Someone he could trust to not fuck it up, and who wouldn't care that he wasn't eighteen.

He'd have taken them both, but Ronan knows that it's easier for them to show up late than it would be for Kavinsky- the boy everyone's there for. Skov, Swan and Jiang should be enough to keep K out of too much trouble. For a while, anyway.

So they're at the tattoo shop when he finally shows Prokopenko what it is that he's getting inked on his back; hooks and claws, feathers and flowers. Up his back and against his neck and hooking almost into his collarbone. Not something that will stay contained, hidden under Aglionby shirts- everyone will know it's there. He's got his shirt off, and the guy is prepping his tools and the bench for him, a low buzz in the air. Ronan smiles soft and a little unsure at Proko, dragging a hand against his stubbled scalp.

A week ago, Ronan had put his fist into the bathroom mirror, his face tear-wet, strung so tight he'd snapped. Unable to stand seeing the face of his dead father in every reflection, the way that it felt like a mockery. And K had held him, grabbed the electric shaver while Proko had pulled the glass from his skin and wrapped the cuts.

It's when it had hit Ronan just how fiercely he needed the two boys, like they both called to different parts of him.

There's a crown hidden among the thorns and petals, but he doesn't point it out. Maybe it's more Kavinsky's symbol, but to Ronan it makes him think of them both; his princes. He tries to keep his voice casual when he looks over at Proko, a slight tilt of his head. His breath shakes a little, in a rush that's almost giddy. He wants him to hold his hand, but hasn't worked up the courage to ask for it yet.]

What do you think?

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko was happy to go with Ronan for his tattoo. Proko had one of his own but it was small, especially compared to what Ronan was planning on getting; a small K on his right thumb. It was absolutely a proof of ownership type of thing, but he didn't mind belonging to Kavinsky. The other boy had done a lot for him, gone above and beyond what the average person could offer. Sometimes, he still got unsteady about what he was--what Proko himself was, not Kavinsky being a dreamer--but not tonight.

Tonight he was here for Ronan, admiring the design of the tattoo he was going to get. It felt ambitious for someone's first one, but he wouldn't even dream of trying to talk Ronan out of it. The opposite, in fact; he fully supported him, and not just because the design was breathtaking. Ronan deserved to get what he wanted after what life had done to him. And even without that, Proko was a firm believer in people doing what made them happy, especially with their own bodies.

He nodded slowly, breaking into a smile as he reached over to skim his hand against the back of Ronan's head, almost like he'd been going to ruffle his hair, except for- well.]

It's great. Like, there's so much to it.

[He meant it in a good way. It was so intricate, so lovely.

He was also trying, he was really trying, not to be obvious about how he was appreciating Ronan without his shirt on. It wasn't like it was even the first time, he just- every time he saw an expanse of skin on either of his boys, he took a moment to admire it. It was more than just a shallow physical attraction though; he was deeply invested in both Ronan and Kavinsky. Fiercely loyal and protective.]

Are you nervous? I wouldn't blame you if you were.

[But that was a big chunk of why Proko was here; to be moral support. Some things were always scarier when you went through them alone and he didn't- Ronan shouldn't be alone.]

something to live for;

[dreamforger]

[Proko is the only reason he's alive.

That's a hard thing to come to terms with. It's easier to parse through the fact that he was fucking selfish, that there were four boys that cared about him, that needed him. He'd dreamt Swan a car to make up for bleeding in the backseat, but Proko was... he didn't know what to say or how to say it.

The first night out of the hospital, it's all of them together, and they nearly smother Kavinsky for staying so close. But he has the good sense not to comment on it; if anything he's almost greedy for the attention, for the affection. Even if it's obvious how much his pack of boys care about him, right now he needs it more than ever. But tonight he'd staying at Proko's, just the two of them- like everything's back to normal.

It isn't.

But he climbs up onto the bed with him, curling up against his side, and trusting that the other boy wont push him away. He could always trust Prokopenko, always by his side. Before he'd dreamt him, and after.

He isn't dead. But this still almost feels almost like a dream, like waking from a nightmare. Where the world feels sharp and his edges feel too soft. Going from bleeding out on the floor with a broken heart to here, pressed up against Proko, and just the stitches in his arm. The other boy had visited him in the hospital, even when Kavinsky had been a wreck -- hardly fit for his own skin, let alone for company.

He was sure that if Proko could have fought his way into keeping watch by his side, he would have.]

I-- I'm sorry, man. I wasn't thinking. I... thank you.

[He knows that he should have said it sooner, but somehow it's here where he manages to find the words, or at least to try and stumble through them. Curled up against him and in his bed, tears in his eyes, fingertips shyly smoothing down his side.]

I didn't mean to hurt you.

[It's vague on whether he means nearly killing Proko because he was his dream, or the suffering because Proko cared about him. Probably both, honestly. The words all feel shallow, like they're not enough. And without an audience, Kavinsky sort of wants to just press himself into the other boy's chest and shake through the feelings he can't name, but he's trying to not be selfish for at least a minute or two.]

[dreamedboy]

[He absolutely would have stayed in Kavinsky's hospital room 24/7 while he'd been there if he could have. Usually, he was okay with being separated from his dreamer. They weren't always attached at the hip. But the two weeks following Kavinsky's suicide attempt were some of the worst in his life. On the one hand, he'd known that medically, the boy had been in good hands. On the other, he hadn't trusted a single person in the hospital to properly take care of him and keep him safe. Maybe it was paranoia. It probably was.

He'd already cried multiple times over the last few days, mostly when no one else had been around to see, and today his eyes were red from it. No matter how angry he got with Kavinsky sometimes he wouldn't dream of pushing him away. Neither of them were perfect but K was his best friend.

Rolling towards Kavinsky, Prokopenko wrapped his arms around him, pressing a gentle kiss against the side of his head. It was more tender than he usually let himself be but he knew he was safe with K. Safe to be vulnerable.]

You scared the hell out of me.

[Kavinsky didn't have to thank him but it was something of a relief to know that he wasn't upset with Proko for saving his life. And maybe it meant there wouldn't be another attempt. Some things were out of Proko's hands and he hated it. He hated that he couldn't be everything Kavinsky needed to keep him happy and alive. Sometimes, he felt like he wasn't good enough. Other times, he knew better than that. Today was the former.]

I'm nothing without you.

[He said it first in Ukrainian and then again in English. He might have been more comfortable with English but he'd been learning Ukrainian for years because it made his grandmother happy and he was, not so secretly, her favorite grandson.

Maybe it was a little selfish of him- or maybe it wasn't. He owed his continued existence to Kavinsky and he was, quite literally, nothing without him. He wondered if there was an afterlife, sometimes. He wondered if the previous him was jealous.

He couldn't even joke that he'd kill Kavinsky himself if he tried to commit suicide again because he'd never lay hands on him like that. He couldn't bring himself to do it. They were both rough but he loved K with all of his heart. It was stupid and cheesy, but-]

I wouldn't want to exist in a world without you.

[Which was fitting, because he wouldn't exist in a world without him. He knew that K hadn't meant to hurt him, but he still had, and- Proko couldn't hold it against him. He knew that Kavinsky must've been hurting a lot to do something so desperate.]

dreampack Eli verse~

[richspoiledrotten]

[It's later, after they'd managed to clean up Kavinsky's bedroom and dream him a better (bigger) mattress. Eli is still in K's tee-shirt, but he'd changed into jeans instead of just his boxers before venturing out of the other dreamer's bedroom.

Things are surprisingly quiet- he assumes that Skov and Swan are either fucking again, or still passed out somewhere. It gives him a quiet moment to catch Proko more or less alone. So he slides over to sit next to him on the couch, looking at him a little awkwardly. He bites the inside of his cheek for a moment, then just shrugs and curses under his breath and drags a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.]

I suck at trying to be subtle, so- K said you know about him and that I can trust you. I'm.. sort of like him, except that I suck at it.

[He'd actually wanted to talk to Proko about this for a while, but hadn't known how without outing himself. Something about Proko that drew him in more than the other boys. He almost felt like Kavinsky in a way that he didn't know how to explain. He wanted to protect him. Of course, Elijah would fight for K and all of his boys. But he'd fight for Proko first.]

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko was still a little on edge. The earlier gunshot had been alarming and even though everything was okay now, for a brief moment it hadn't been. Kavinsky was his world and Proko thought he'd kill someone for him. Not Elijah- someone outside of the pack, if they were a threat. Whatever'd happened, Elijah wasn't the threat; Proko was sure of that.

He looked over when the other boy joined him on the couch, watching him wearily for a moment. Part of him wanted to just lay his head in Elijah's lap and go to sleep, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he blinked a few times, processing the new information he was told.

Nodding slowly, he said-]

Sucking's the first step to being good at something.

[He'd never really known Kavinsky when he'd sucked at dreaming, but he assumed his king had been awful at it once upon a time, too.]

You can trust me, [He added.] I've known about K for years. I wouldn't tell anyone. So, how're you 'sort of' like him?

weird stuff is my jam; v2

[threesecrets]

[When Kavinsky brings him home, he can feel the way that Prokopenko bristles, defensive and protective. All of them are, really, but with Proko it's the worst. But there's also something there between them, nameless, that they both try to ignore.

And then there's this: that night, sitting on the couch, a cautious space between them.

Ronan tells him.

It's still halting and unsure, but he says it into the air between them, his smile curved and a little sad. Something he can't put into words: that feeling that what he is makes it so he might never be quite enough for anyone. But he wants to be. He's trying to be.]

I had to try. I had to know if I could save him.

[He thinks out of anyone, maybe Prokopenko would understand.

Kavinsky's alive at the end of the night, and Ronan is here, so it feels like a victory. Even if things are still strange. Up close he seems a little bit brighter, that fire that was always in Ronan's heart easier to see. He's not softer precisely, but his edges aren't meant to cut himself as well as the people around him. Ronan's worst urges instead something stranger.

He doesn't say it, but there's a current under the words: I wont hurt him.]

[dreamedboy]

[Proko was wary and weary both. He owed everything he was to Kavinsky, but more importantly than that, K was his best friend. He'd do anything for him but even he hadn't known just what had been going to happen on the Fourth. He'd never have guessed that Ronan would be here, having chosen Kavinsky. He should have chosen him a lot sooner but Proko was probably biased. Most definitely.

He took a breath and held it for a moment.]

You're what he's always wanted.

[Who Kavinsky had always wanted. He might not have gone about things the best way but he'd done it the only way he'd been capable of. Fuck, but if Proko said he didn't love him he'd be lying. But it wasn't his place; it wasn't him that Kavinsky had tried so hard to get. Proko tried to tell himself he was okay with that. He wasn't sure he really was.]

You're here now. [He added.] You know what they say; better late than never. And you weren't too late.

[That was what was important.]

But if you hurt him-

[He didn't finish; he let the threat hang.]

end of the world AU;

[threesecrets]

[Ronan hadn't actually dealt with any of K's other boys so far. Not that he was avoiding them, but he also was sort of avoiding them. He didn't really know what to say. He didn't really know how to defend the fact that he was here after everything that had happened before, when that summer felt both so close and so far away. And well- he also just couldn't be dragged away from Kavinsky that first day. He needed to touch him, to apologize with his body.

He really hoped that no one else had heard the noises he'd made.

But eventually, sometime late morning, he does come down and brave the kitchen. Skov and Swan and Jiang are thankfully not in attendance, but he does see Proko. He could have just turned around, but instead he takes a breath and steps into the space. His body language isn't aggressive; not like he's looking for a fight, but like he doesn't know if he's going to find one anyway. He holds himself in a way that feels quieter, a little bit more sure.

As if he now knew the answer to whether or not he could stand on his own. Or at least, it wasn't Gansey that he needed, that felt like a tether around his heart.

He moved through the kitchen, grabbing two mugs and filled them from the coffee machine. He takes his with sugar, no milk, and it only takes him a moment or two to remember how Kavinsky takes his coffee. He watches Prokopenko quietly, knowing he should say something, but not quite knowing what the right words are. And he wants-- he never would have said the words, but K's boys had felt like his friends too, once. Before he'd burnt that bridge because he was too scared to admit that it mattered.]

I'm sorry. I know I fucked up a lot of things, and that Kavinsky and you and everyone else suffered for it. But I also can't stay away from him.

[He never would have apologized before. He would have ignored there was a problem, and snarled something awful if it seemed like that wasn't enough to handle it. This is something else. It's trying, and not in a way that requires a codebook for Ronan Lynch and his particular awfulness. It's saying it outloud, trying to do things different this time. To make things better. He doesn't know if it's enough, but he wants it to be.]

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko didn't know what he expected when Ronan showed up the other night. He hadn't expected to fight with Kavinsky, to be told to shut the fuck up, like his concerns weren't valid. He usually spent the night in K's bed but- He wasn't sure if he was more jealous or worried about Kavinsky.

So he bristled when he saw Ronan in the kitchen but he didn't lash out first, he didn't say something cutting. Maybe if he waited long enough, Ronan would say something that'd make him change his mind about wanting to kick him to the curb. He didn't expect an actual apology though and for a moment, his brows furrowed. Turning towards Ronan, he let his words sink in for a moment.]

He almost died. Because of you.

[And that thought was more terrifying than knowing Proko would've gone with Kavinsky. He didn't want to live without his dreamer, anyway. It was selfish, maybe, but Proko'd always been that way.]

What do you want from him?

[He thought that what Ronan wanted would dictate everything. Or at least, it'd be a solid place to start. Proko could try and decide if Ronan's intentions were genuine or if he was going to fuck everything up again. It probably wouldn't make Prokopenko any less jealous though, but that was a different matter. Kavinsky's safety came first. Kavinsky came first. He always did.]

[threesecrets]

Kavinsky said I should talk to you.

[Ronan's shoulders are a little bit curled in, and one of his hands rubs at the scruff of his hair at the back of his scalp. It's the first thing he says, gets it out like he feels that he needs to say it or else Proko might just tell him to fuck off. His pale skin is a little flushed, but he's sort of been like that all day.

Or rather, he's been unbearable all day. Burning up in his skin and aching aimlessly in a way that he couldn't solve with his own fingers. It was also the weekend, and Swan and Skov had taken off, and Ronan was having one of his rough nights. Not bad, so much as just-- he needed something, someone that was willing to put their teeth into him, that knew he wouldn't break. Or no, it was more complicated than that. Someone that knew that he he wanted them to try, that he wanted to be pushed to the edge, and have their arms be the thing that stopped him from going over, to only be taken as far as he wanted to go. But Kavinsky could tell, of course.

So eventually he'd cornered Ronan, manhandled him a little, and it had almost felt like when they were both wrapped around the other's finger. He'll never say that he misses it, because he's just-- it means so much to him just that he still gets to be around them. That when Kavinsky had backed him up against the wall that he'd kissed him, and that Ronan knew it was okay. Not something that was a secret, and he could just enjoy the feeling. And they mean so much to him, too. He likes seeing them together, seeing them happy, how they make each other happy.

But Adam and K had something planned, though Ronan's head was too fuzzy to really pick up the details except that it was something with magic.

Kavinsky had offered talking to Adam, but Ronan had backed out of that idea fast. The other boy had only just barely started unwinding, trusting it when Ronan wasn't in his line of sight. So he didn't want-- he didn't know. He didn't want Kavinsky to have to tell Adam that he needed help or something. And he didn't want Adam to have to deal with all of Ronan's darker desires, either. Not knowing his history like he does. So he'd meant to just walk away, but then of all fucking things, Kavinsky had told him to talk to Prokopenko.

He's tried to shrug it off, but K was a fucking cheater. Kavinsky put his chin on Ronan's shoulder, and the words brushed against his ear in a way that went through him like fire. But the worst thing had been that he used that particular edge to his voice from when they would play together, the one that Ronan couldn't say no to. He was still bad at being obedient, except for when he wasn't. It was never easy for him, but sometimes it was what he ached for more than anything. And Kavinsky still remembered.

It was why his moods, his worse nights... it was hard for him to talk about it in a way that it wasn't when it was just the sex. If it had been about sex that would have been one thing, he'd probably have strolled into Jiang's room or done something with someone. Really, the point is that he wouldn't have been here, talking to Proko of all people.

He trusted Kavinsky though. He didn't think he'd push him at Proko, let alone that insistently, if there wasn't some merit to it. After all, he wasn't even here with them to watch things so sideways.]

He seemed to think-- fuck. Kavinsky said... Look, I get bad sometimes. Where I need someone to just- ruin me, and fuck me until I forget how to talk. And Kavinsky said that I should talk to you about it.

[He lifts his jaw, his lips thinned and he does not meet his eyes, because this is.. it's complicated and it's hard. He'd been so jealous of Proko before; so sure that he was the boy that would wrap around Kavinsky's heart. Which doesn't make it worse, but it sure doesn't make the idea of the conversation he'd trying to have any easier.]

And yeah, I know that's probably a shitty replacement for hello. But if I didn't say it now, I wasn't sure I'd say it at all.

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko was confused, to put it lightly. There'd been a time, not very long ago, when he'd been angry with Ronan for hurting Kavinsky. But that time was in the past now, even if they hadn't spoken about what'd happened or where they stood since things had gotten better. He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, and-

Fuck if Kavinsky hadn't known exactly what he was doing sending Ronan to him. He was both mildly flustered and a little turned on just from listening to Ronan talk. Proko knew that sort of mood, even if he couldn't pin down a name for it. Skov got like that, sometimes, and Swan had to get rough. Well, rougher than normal, that was. And Skov loved it, of course, and then everything went back to normal. But Swan and Skov weren't here right now and Proko guessed that was why he was listening to Ronan instead of someone else.]

I've been given shittier hellos.

[After a moment, his expression softened. He got the part where Ronan was self-conscious about this and probably easily spooked right now. Proko didn't plan on spooking him, though.]

You trust me with this? I know you're here 'cause Kavinsky told you to be here- [And he could appreciate the sway and power his king had.] -but you wouldn't have actually come if you thought shit was gonna hit the fan, right?

I mean- [He combed a hand through his hair.] -you wanna sit down or something? [He gestured to the futon bed in his room that was...well, mostly made at least.] I'm not mad at you. You don't have to worry about that.

heaven is more than seven minutes;

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky had noticed Prokopenko before, of course. He didn't know him by name, but he knew that he showed up to the parties, that he wasn't quite a wallflower, but that he didn't have a particular cluster of friends that he traveled with, either. And he knew that he was interested, because he'd seen the way that he looked at him. He tried to be subtle, but Kavinsky had almost a radar for attraction from gorgeous boys. So he'd noticed.

But he hadn't called him out on it at first, just let it be this string between them, wanted to see if he'd make a move on his own. But K knew he could be intimidating, between the rumors that were almost legends, the way he'd lean in to whisper something to Skov or Swan, like they had their own language that no one else spoke. Rumors of the way that he went through partners like most people went through tee-shirts -- and that was all without getting into the whole drug-dealer thing, which was either a positive or a negative with little middle ground.

But a few people had dropped out of the traditional rounds of party games, and while he absolutely would play seven minutes in heaven with Skov or Swan (or both at the same time) he recognized that was boring. So he was looking for someone he didn't know he'd be willing to at least get to first base with in a cramped space while hecklers yelled encouragement and other perversions, knowing the crowd.

So when Prokopenko catches his eyes tonight in the middle of the hallway, he doesn't keep his distance. It's an impulsive choice, feels like a bad decision because there's something about him that he likes more than most, and not just because they both have names that make them foreigners in the place they were born. Like he's sharp, like there's more to him than the cold set to his eyes.

Kavinsky doesn't quite ask: he just steps in close, catching the boy's wrist in his fingers. It's softer than you might assume, not quite demanding, but pulls them in close together. K is having a good night so far- warm and tipsy and just a little high. Just the right mood for the party, for this sort of thing; he slides in so their chests almost touch. Close enough his words are almost a secret, grinning as he looks into his eyes.]

Seven minutes in heaven. I need a partner-- you up for it? I've seen you watching me, Sweetheart. So don't tell me you're not into it.

[Now he's being demanding.]

👀

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko liked to think he was subtle. He liked to think he was sneaky. He was apparently none of those things, actually. Especially not when Kavinsky touched his wrist and stepped in close. It felt like his heart was beating double-time and he could barely breathe--was he holding his breath without realizing it?

Without a doubt, Kavinsky was one of the most handsome boys he'd ever seen. There was something about him that made Proko feel like there were butterflies in his stomach. He didn't get that feeling over just anyone. Of course, he didn't have friends; he was aloof, alone for most of the time, so that made it even more surprising that Kavinsky reached out to him--literally.

He was flustered, flattered. Nervous and a touch embarrassed all at the same time. Kavinsky could have asked anybody and yet he'd approached Proko. Proko couldn't look away from the other boy's eyes, even as he moved a hand to very gently press against the center of his back, more reflex than anything.

There was no way in hell he was going to say no.]

I'm up for it.

[Fuck, was he ever up for it. If anybody but Kavinsky'd asked, he probably would have turned them down. There was no way he could turn down K.]

sometimes you have to ask;

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky and Proko only hooked up that once. Before they became friends, before he was part of the pack, before he dreamt him back to life. But it was more than a hookup, even if he never says it outloud. And now there's Ronan, and now everything's complicated.

Ronan had been in one of his worst moods, and it had been Proko that had pushed him off Kavinsky after the first punch. But it was also Prokopenko that was sitting here with him, calling him on the fact that he'd been baiting him, that he'd rather have Ronan hurt him than ignore him. He's the one that asks if Kavinsky is okay. And of course he is- just a bloody lip- but then maybe he's never been okay at all.

But the question feels overwhelming, impossible to answer. And to anyone else he'd just lie, but he owed him so much more than that. He wanted to give him more than that. So instead he kisses him, because that's at least honest. Maybe he's had too much to drink or not enough cocaine, but it feels like Ronan isn't the thing that's going to make him okay, however similar they might be.

He wants to say something that means something, to try and explain what Prokopenko has been to him in all the ways that he hasn't said. Because he mattered before Kavinsky dreamt him back to life. He'd just needed him, and he's never said it, not really.]

Do you know why we only fucked that once?

[Which is-- okay, not exactly what he was aiming for, but it's something. It says something real, and maybe that's what matters. He still hovers close after the kiss, not quite pulling away but not chasing him for another.]

'Cause you'd have let me seduce you again, wouldn't you?

[It's a joke between them some nights of who seduced who, but Kavinsky doesn't reach for it, doesn't try to deflect from what they've never really talked about: the almost, the way that dragging Ronan to his parties was always a little cruel. Maybe cruel to himself, too.]

👀 2; electric boogaloo

[dreamedboy]

[Honestly, Prokopenko didn't think Kavinsky and Ronan were good for each other. Not because Ronan was a bad person, exactly, but because he seemed...emotionally constipated? Or if he wasn't, he was shit at expressing himself in any way besides anger. Kavinsky didn't exactly need a softer touch, but he needed someone who wouldn't ignore him for days on end, someone who knew how to text back without being an asshole. Or maybe Proko was just biased because he thought Kavinsky deserved all of the best things in the world.

The other boy kissed him and Proko was helpless to do anything but kiss him back, no matter how surprising it was at this moment. He would've kissed him again, too, but he held back- somehow. Kissing Kavinsky made him feel like he weighed nothing at all, like he didn't have a care in the world.]

I thought it was 'cause you'd decided you didn't want me like that.

[It was an honest confession, if a little quiet. Thinking he wasn't wanted in a certain way had never kept him from Kavinsky's side, after all.]

I'd let you do anything you wanted with me.

[That was honest, too. Proko didn't like lying, especially not to K.]

[threesecrets]

[To say that night had been good would have been an understatement. Prokopenko had been kind to him and ruined him and he'd been exactly what he'd needed. Ronan had spent the night, slept in his bed curled up against him because he could hardly walk straight, let alone drive.

Ronan's kneejerk reaction is to hide from it, of course. To dust his hands and pretend that he doesn't ache for it, that he doesn't want more, want to do it again -- as many times as he can steal until he inevitably pushes him away.

But ever since realizing he lost Kavinsky- not from his life, but as someone that he could be in love with- he's been trying to be better. It takes him almost a week: Friday afternoon, when they last saw each other early Monday morning. But just after school lets out, he finally texts him.]

are you busy tonite?
I was thinking you could come over if you want to

look I want you
for real
Im just not good at this part

[There was probably a better way to say this, but these things have never been Ronan's strong suit. And then he smothers his face into his pillow and tries to ignore the world until his phone chirps back. But he's trying. He's taking a risk and hoping Proko catches him. But he had before; so he finds himself capable of trusting it.]

[dreamedboy]

i was wondering if u were gonna ask
not about coming over but about seeing each other again
im not busy

also
important q
in what way do u want me?

[They'd had one night of mindblowing sex and Proko hadn't really been able to stop thinking about it since. But there was more to it than that; it wasn't just the sex. It was Ronan.]

just to save a dream;

[dreamforger]

[It wasn't on purpose, of course.

Kavinsky had just been dreaming, next to his boyfriend. He hadn't even planned on bringing anything back with him at all. It had just been soft and self-indulgent nonsense; where Kavinsky lived into his twenties, and Proko stayed with him. Where they had a house and a fence and a fucking puppy. He was more or less clean, only really did his dreamt pills and weed- he was into magical art forgery rather than drugs. Prokopenko had just graduated college, but the diploma they displayed on the wall was a forgery; one Kavinsky dreamt for him: a joke only the two of them understood.

Sort of like their lives. Proko had proposed a few days ago with just a simple gold band, and Kavinsky had grinned, called him asshole in the same breath that he said yes. Today was Saturday and they'd spent all afternoon in bed, Proko taking him apart and putting him back together, and they were laughing as they caught their breath--

The dream starts to go wrong, shifting into a nightmare. If feels like it's pulled out from under him, and it crinkles -- like paper under heat that isn't close enough to burn. Kavinsky isn't thinking when he moves for Prokopenko, when he clutches him in his arms. He knows that he's dreaming, knows that he's a dream as their house starts to burn. But Kavinsky can't help how he holds onto him, thinks of keeping him safe as he wakes, fiercely pulling against what shreds of his dreams he holds in his fingers.

And he realizes, while the paralysis holds him prisoner for long minutes that he's pressed in between two gorgeous boys:
His highschool boyfriend, Prokopenko.
And his twenty-something fiancee, Prokopenko.

It's like one of his filthier dreams come to life, but he hadn't meant for it to happen. It had been like a reflex. He'd wanted him, wanted a future with him, but dreaming wasn't an exact thing and under the way the dragons pressed down against the dream-turned-nightmare... he brought his dream back with him. A mirror image of the other boy in his bed.

This probably looked bad.]

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko, the original one (did he count as original when he'd been dreamt back to life once already?), sighed softly in his sleep and snuggled a little closer to Kavinsky, oblivious to the world. He hadn't yet realized anything was off or that there was someone else in bed.

The other Prokopenko, the older one, hereby referred to affectionately as Proko2, was awake. Of course, he was. One moment he'd been- and the next he was here. If he hadn't known what Kavinsky was, what he could do, he would've been a lot more concerned and upset. As it was, when he lifted his head to look over at Kavinsky and saw the other Proko, his heart sort of sank.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what'd happened.]

Oh, Josy. What did you do.

[His voice was soft enough that he didn't wake his other self yet, but it was only inevitable; it was going to happen sooner or later.]

that fairy market au;

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky didn't really have a plan, didn't have a destination in mind. It was just- leaving Henrietta and everything about it behind them. Leaving Ronan Lynch, though he wouldn't say that. He didn't want to think about him. And more than that, he didn't want Proko to think that K was thinking about him. So he just laced their fingers over the gearshift, turned the music up a little bit louder, and stole a brief whisper of a kiss.

He books them a hotel room once they get through Indiana. A nice one this time, instead of the 29.99-special motels that lined the Interstate; and it feels like that means something, like maybe they can start to breathe a little. Thankfully it's not like money is any real issue for them, and even if it was, what was there that Kavinsky couldn't dream for them?

But they go out for dinner, and Kavinsky casually picks a place that he know makes Illya's favorites. He makes it a point to make Prokopenko smile, and lies about it being his birthday so that he can smirk at him while the waiters bring out cake and obligingly sing until he blows out the candle. And then they're back at the hotel room, and Kavinsky pulls him down onto the King sized bed with him.

He was trying to make it good. Trying to say that it could be good. That they were good, no matter where they were or what it looked like. But he doesn't really know how to say that in words, so instead he tugs at the other boy, urging him to crawl on top of him so that Kavinsky can whisper in his ear:]

Do you wanna take my clothes off?

[dreamedboy]

[Kavinsky was being sweet to him. Clarification; he was being sweeter than he usually was to Prokopenko. He almost wanted to ask if he was trying to make up for something, if he'd maybe committed a murder or something (Proko wouldn't leave him, not ever), but he didn't want to ruin whatever was going on. Though he started thinking about revenge when Kavinsky said it was his birthday and made him the center of attention.

Proko smiled and took it gracefully, but he also mouthed something that looked a lot like I'll kill you, except, of course, he never would. He was sure they both knew that, and he wasn't serious anyway or even seriously upset. It was just one of those moments where you had to make a threat in response to something. He was more likely to suck K off than he was to cause him any harm.

Later, when they were in their hotel room, he kicked off his shoes before joining K on the bed, kissing him once, twice. Straddling K's thighs, Proko grinned.]

I always wanna take your clothes off, K. Sometimes, I think it's a sin that you have to wear any at all.

look i had to

[dreamforger]

[Adam had classes, and Kavinsky had promised to call, but he'd been alive for a few days, long enough to be relatively sure he wasn't going to just fall over dead. Which meant going back to Henrietta and spending the afternoon tracking down his pack- not even planning to insist that they needed to follow him when Kavinsky hardly had a plan for the next week (save that it involved continuing his attempts to seduce Adam Parrish).

But after finding out that Prokopenko's been in a coma, the hospital is his first stop. Only he's not in a coma when Kavinsky gets there. Chatting with the nurses reveals an eerie parallel- that Prokopenko had woken up when K had, and belated realization curls in his chest. He hadn't thought... he'd never meant for his death to hurt anyone else.

They've kept him for observation, because it had happened once before: he'd woken up when Ronan Lynch had stopped by a month or so ago, but had slipped back into a coma not long after he left. The dreamer doesn't understand it, thinks that maybe for a while he'd been able to touch whatever part of a dreamer anchored their dreams.

But the truth is simpler: Ronan had offered Proko a sweetmetal, but with Kavinsky dead, he hadn't wanted it.

Kavinsky finally knocks on the frame of Proko's open door, shifting a little bit awkwardly, smiling at him although his eyes are a little bit misty. His voice is choked up and affected, just to see his bestfriend again-- but he tries to sound like himself, like he doesn't want to just climb into his hospital bed and wrap his arms around him. But he feels strangely self-conscious, worried that Proko might still be mad at him for everything that had happened, for not telling him how shitty his plan was.]

Hey, Sweetheart. I heard you missed me.

screams gently

[dreamedboy]

[The absolute last person he'd expected to show up was Kavinsky. Yet, what other options had there been? Prokopenko had refused a sweetmetal because life wasn't worth living without his best friend and he highly doubted anyone else had come along to slip him one. He didn't know how K was back. He didn't care. He was here and alive and that was all that mattered to Proko at the end of the day.

He tried not to look as emotional as he felt. This was impossible- not hiding his emotions but Kavinsky being back. Alright, so hiding his emotions was pretty impossible, too. Tears welled in his eyes and he furiously blinked them back, determined not to let them fall. Not yet, anyway.]

Get the fuck over here, you asshole.

[He pointed to the spot next to him on the bed. There wasn't a lot of room, but he was sure they could make it work. His tone was more emotional and fond than it was actually angry, despite the words. After he had K in his arms, maybe he'd be able to focus more, ask questions, do anything other than feeling like crying.]

some proko & ronan stuff & maybe K if you want to

[threesecrets]

[Ronan had found a sweetmetal.

It was a necklace: a thin gold chain strung with a dozen semiprecious stones, fire opal and tiger's eye and red topaz. He'd had a lead on another, but instead found this one almost by accident. And the first time he saw it he'd forgotten how to pull air into his lungs because of how intensely it made him think of another dreamer, dead on the 4th of July. He'd wanted a sweetmetal for Bryde, for his brother, but holding it in his hands, words came to mind, like summoned with an echo out of memory- the world's a nightmare. Which is probably why he'd ended up back in Henrietta, when he'd been trying for months to put distance between all of those thoughts.

He knows where he's going even before the nurse asks him who he's here to see. They have Proko hooked up to IVs and monitors, although Ronan knows it's more for the doctor's peace of mind than because he needs them. It reminds him of his dead mother so intensely that he wants to hit something. In the end, Proko obliges him on that point but it sucks all the fight out of Ronan.

Illya isn't Jiang, who could admit that it wasn't fair to hold Ronan responsible. He was Kavinsky's dream, and Ronan finally appreciates better what that means. The monitors screech and Ronan's sure he's going to have a black eye later, but he doesn't really care, either. He pushes at him instead of hitting him back, trying to get his arms around him more than fight him. The nurses summoned by the disconnected cords stare rather than intervene- maybe too shocked by the state of their supposed coma patient. In a fucked up way it's almost cathartic, because Proko is the only person that really understands that Kavinsky meant something.]

He wasn't-- fuck. He wasn't wrong. I love him too.

[It's the only defense he has, the only way he knows to explain that he hadn't wanted the way things had ended anymore than Proko had. That strange way he says it like it's still true, like the other dreamer isn't dead. He admits how much he regrets it, how many times he's played it over in his head, if he had only pulled him down-- But he hasn't said it outloud before, hasn't told anyone, and it's like a fist around his heart. It pulls tears from his sharp blue eyes and has Ronan pressing his face into the other boy's shoulder, shifting his arms around Proko so it's less to contain him and more to hold him close. They lay there for minutes until the nurses step in, getting Proko back into bed, checking his vitals, checking Ronan's eye.

Ronan almost leaves after they confirm what he'd more or less known already; that it'd probably bruise, but his vision seemed fine. But Proko asks him to stay, and so he does. They want to keep him until morning, when the doctor can check him out, but the blond is shockingly coherent, his body shockingly responsive for someone who'd been in a coma. Ronan manages to keep himself from pointing out why.

Later, he latches the necklace around his neck, and Ronan can't resist the urge to kiss him. He half expects to get another black eye for it, but Proko kisses him back, like they're both desperate for whatever this is- something that feels like a lifeline. By afternoon Illya is almost stircrazy by the time they release him, his grandmother in tears she's so happy to have him back. And Ronan almost expects that to be the last they see of each other, that he'll be left alone in a world that's killing him, with Bryde's sweetmetal the only thing keeping him alive, awake, and no idea how to fix it.

There's no ley line for him to dream anything with, let alone something big enough to fix what Hennessey had done. And Lindenmere is -- somewhere else. Like it had been with Cabeswater during that summer, and this is a bigger problem, needs more than just Adam clearing out some rocks so it can run clear. If things had been different, he probably would have asked Adam how to fix it. But they weren't, and so he's alone, isolated from everyone. His only other lead was the Fairy Market, because there was a dreamer that wore his mother's face, and a man that looked like Ronan (and/or his father).

But Illya texts him, and Ronan brings him to the Barns because he can't think of where else they would go. Most of Ronan's strange creations are sleeping; like his father's cows. But the problem now is bigger than one dead dreamer. Save for a baby furred dragon that had been eagerly waiting their arrival, and takes an instant liking to Proko, the rest of his dreams are asleep in the fields. The house and its trees and the sky and the grass all seem-- quieter, subdued, somehow. Like it has lost part of itself. It felt more like a graveyard than a home so Proko takes him to his home, to a place that didn't run on dreams, so it didn't feel so much like dying.

He tells him everything.

And they were.. something. Not that it was easy, because it wasn't.

But Ronan didn't feel alone, cut out from the world and no one else able to understand what that was like for him. What it was like to wake up every day in a world without Kavinsky. What it was like knowing that the people that had been closest to him wanted a world that would kill him. Kavinsky would have understood- he'd told Ronan all of this before, but he'd been too blind to see it.]

I want to stay.

[He's still half alseep as he half rolls over, murmuring the words into skin, with the subtext being: but I can't. Clothes still scattered on the floor, and he curls in closer to hide from the Virginia chill of early winter when it had been summer in his dreams. But there's a world to fix, and even without a clear idea of how, he feels obligated to try. If not for his own life, then for Matthew, for Proko. Or just because Kavinsky would have, even if he had to burn down the world to do it.

Maybe the Apocalypse that the Moderators are so afraid of is just the cost of fixing it all.

Last night Ronan had dreamt.

Almost like he used to, not that he could take anything out of it. But it had been a weak sliver of memory, but played out so visceral that for a moment it had felt real again, like a circle. Of that night, the car crash and the dream field, that moment where he'd wanted Kavinsky, and held onto the safety of terror. But the night felt like taffy, like he could be dreaming- like if there had been any ley line, he would have brought Kavinsky back, if he dared.

Instead he'd kissed him, held his face in his hands and said words he's only ever said to Proko. Said it like it could change something -- like he wanted it to. Like he knew what he wanted.

Even awake now, words and memory still hum in his thoughts. Ronan awed at the idea of dreaming a whole car and Kavinsky telling him he could dream the world if he wanted to, a whole world. And god, but how much he wanted to. Something else, something better than this. A world for Dreamers and Dreams, and even small furred dragons. The later of which had curled up around one of Proko's bedposts at some point in the night.]

/nyooms to

[dreamedboy]

[Things had started off rocky. When Proko was awakened from his coma, it'd been just yesterday for him that he'd last seen Kavinsky. The idea that he was gone forever was- it wasn't just because Proko loved him; he'd been his best friend, too. Kavinsky had taken him under his wing when most of Aglionby hadn't even given him the time of day. It was easy to blame Ronan but- Ronan was trying to make amends, too. That meant something to Proko. The fact Ronan admitted he loved Kavinsky too meant something.

There was more than that, too. There was so much and the world was a mess and everything sucked but there was still good in it, too. There was still Skov and Swan and Jiang and- Ronan. He was part of the good. Proko didn't regret giving him a black eye but he was glad he'd given him a chance, too. He felt lost without Kavinsky, adrift in a vast ocean with no land in sight. He could've leaned on the other boys of the pack, he knew they'd be there for him, but he leaned on Ronan, instead.

And now, half-asleep, Proko draped an arm around Ronan, tugging him closer. He didn't have to be fully awake to know he didn't want to be without the Dreamer. The mere idea made his chest ache. They were both made of dreams and he'd never met another person like that before Ronan. Not a Dreamer but a dream. Every dream was special and unique, just like people. Maybe even more so.

Without even opening his eyes, he replied-]

I'm going with you.

[If Ronan couldn't stay, if that wasn't an option because he was on a mission to fix the world, then Prokopenko was going with him. He'd follow Ronan to the ends of the earth and back.]

just a smol thing :3

[smiledevilish]

[It was the first time Dimitri had met Proko. It was a party on Christmas, and Dimitri hadn't told Kavinsky that he didn't want to go home for the holidays, but dreams were fucking traitors. So he had this invitation, instead: alcohol and decked halls and nothing to worry about until after the holiday bullshit.

Elijah was there, of course. The first time that they've seen each other face to face since Kingswood. It's tense for a moment, the way that Elijah looks at the blonde- hard and unflinching. Asshole, he quips, holding out a hand, and they bump knuckles and Elijah shoulder checks him hard enough to bruise before passing him a beer with a merry fucking Christmas. He puts a festive headband in his hair -- reindeer antlers with bells that jingle obnoxiously, before he goes back to slide into Kavinsky's lap.

And just like that: forgiven. It's like his world rights itself on its axis, somehow.

That would have been enough.

That was enough. But there's this gorgeous boy with a lovely smile, and Dimitri can't help being drawn in toward him. His only goal is really to get his name, maybe his number, but it isn't that sort of night, not that sort of party. They're sitting next to each other on the couch, and the chemistry crackles and there's a pill on Proko's fingers and then on Dimitri's tongue.

And there's this, too: mistletoe. One of the other boys throwing it at them and telling them to just kiss already. So Dimitri lifts a hand with a laugh, cups Proko's jaw in his fingers, and leans in, just softly pressing their lips together. But he lingers, close enough that one kiss could be more if he wants it to -- and god, he finds that he wants him to. Maybe he's just that lonely, or it's just that sort of night, or maybe something in Proko speaks to something in him.]

[dreamedboy]

[Dimitri was hot and there was something about him that drew Proko in, made him curious to get to know him. He didn't usually have that sort of reaction to people, but this was a special case. Dimitri seemed easy to get along with, and he was a friend of K's, which meant Proko would gladly accept him as a friend, too.

Proko didn't usually kiss all of his friends though. This was- something else. And he hooked a hand around the back of Dimitri's neck, the other resting on his shoulder, and murmured something too soft to hear before kissing him again. It was both easygoing and charged, electric.

He wanted more at the same time he wanted to lay his head in the other boy's lap and just talk about whatever came up until he fell asleep like that. Or maybe they could cuddle up in a bed and fall asleep together. But first, there was kissing.]

just some pervy trashy feels ahem

[dreamforger]

[It's the first time Kavinsky has spent the night at Proko's place.

It wasn't even something they'd planned, but it had been a bad day for Kavinsky, and he'd ended up curled up in the passenger seat of Proko's car, with his shades over his eyes. And Proko had taken him home, like he understood that Kavinsky's wasn't any sort of home at all. He even eats some of the leftovers Proko's grandmother leaves them for dinner. And later, around midnight, the beautiful blonde boy that had somehow fallen into K's life asks: do you want to stay? and Kavinsky says yes, with his voice almost breaking, an intensity like he means more than tonight.

Somehow, the promise that he can stay the night seems to brighten the dark-haired boy.
--Or maybe it's the glimpse he steals of Prokopenko in the shower.

Kavinsky didn't bring a change of clothes, and while he could dream one, he doesn't. Not when the alternative is Proko offering him one of his tee-shirts, which sits loose on Kavinsky's frame, but he likes the way that the other boy looks at him in it. Almost possessive, like Kavinsky is something that he could keep- like he wants to. Like the sight of Kavinsky in his tee-shirt is a pleasure they both enjoy. And unlike Proko, Kavinsky doesn't wear pajama pants- in part because he likes the way the other teen watches when he bends to grab something off the side of the bed.

He makes him feel- like he's more than desirable, like he's lovely, like he could be a dream. Normally he feels like people want him because he's willing, or because they think it'll make it easier to get what they want from him. Proko looks at him like Kavinsky is what he wants. It makes his skin burn, and sleeping isn't really what he has in mind.

He's sitting at the foot of the bed, and he catches his shirt in his fingers, tugging him in so that he's standing between Kavinsky's spread thighs as he looks up at him. They'd fucked at a party once, which K didn't regret, but he'd been drunk and high and even then afraid he wouldn't get this boy out of his veins. So they didn't talk about it. Kavinsky would flirt a little, but he pulled away before it could mean something.

But now, he's almost too sober to exist in the world, feels like he'd die without Proko keeping him here.]

Do you still want me, Illya?

[He asks it in Ukranian, and while it's the sort of question that could be mocking, it isn't. It's raw and needy and Kavinsky doesn't hide from it. He wants to pull his pants down with his teeth, he wants Proko to fuck him so hard he has to keep a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, so that Kavinsky can feel his own skin, so that he can't feel alone.]

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko was more than a little possessive of Kavinsky. He felt protective of him, too. You couldn't choose your family, lord knew that--or else Kavinsky would have perfect parents, or whatever it was that looked like perfect to him--but you could choose your friends. Proko was choosing him. K was a bit of a mess, but a beautiful mess, the sort that made Proko want to hold onto him forever.

There was an importance to who you chose to surround yourself with, and maybe Proko's choice said he was a bit of a mess too, but he didn't care; he wouldn't trade K for the world. Not when he was on fire from his confidence and charm and magnetism, and not when he was down and needed someone. There was no such thing as 'too much' for Proko to handle when it came to the other boy. He would be there for him through the good times and the bad, if K allowed him.

His breath caught long before Kavinsky said anything, when Proko was tugged in close. He couldn't help but admire Kavinsky, which felt a little selfish. He swallowed around the lump in his throat; there was something about hearing him speak Ukrainian that did something to him. He knew it was for him--or at least, he thought it was, and that was- It mattered. Proko was bilingual, though usually he heard English all around him, spoke English himself.

Was it the language itself or how lovely it sounded coming from Kavinsky? He thought maybe it was both.

A little shiver ran through him and he bit his lip, not because he had any trouble deciding if he wanted Kavinsky or not, but because he wanted him so much. Gently, not as though K would break, but as though he was precious to Proko (he was), he cupped K's face in his hands.]

I always want you.

[It was soft, also in Ukrainian.]

You're the only one I want.

[It felt vulnerable to admit that, but was he supposed to lie or hide it? No one else could compare to Kavinsky in Proko's eyes. He was one of a kind, special.]