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!

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[dreamedboy]

I'm going to hold you to that.

[He was going to make sure Kavinsky kept his promise, somehow. One way or another. There was something romantic though, about the fact that if Kavinsky died so did Prokopenko. They couldn't exist without each other and it wasn't just silly nonsense. It was real.]

It wasn't stupid. You were hurting. I- I should've been there for you.

[He should have been able to do something for him, to know that he was hurting before the disaster had happened. Kavinsky'd gotten in over his head before but never like this. One could argue that he was maybe always in over his head, but- he wasn't a sinking ship. He was- Prokopenko's everything.

He met Kavinsky's eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He knew he was important to K, knew he cared about him, but- Proko desperately wanted to be enough for him, to appeal to him the same way Lynch had. Or did. But he could never bring himself to ask why he wasn't good enough. He didn't want to hear the answer, he didn't want to hear what was wrong with him. Maybe there was nothing wrong with him and it was Kavinsky who was flawed but that felt like blasphemy. Kavinsky was a king and Proko was content being his right-hand-man, his dog- most of the time. Sometimes he wanted more. Often, really.]

I know.

[His voice was quiet and he sighed softly before leaning his head against Kavinsky's. Closing his eyes, he asked, before he could second guess himself-]

What does Lynch have that I don't?

[Maybe he shouldn't have asked, maybe he should have kept it to himself, maybe it was too soon, but-]

[dreamforger]

[At the question, he makes a soft, almost wounded sound. He knows the question has been in the air between them for a while, but he's never actually asked it before, and so Kavinsky has never had to answer it.]

Fuck Lynch. He's not better than you.

[But K knows that's not a real answer. He's asking why Kavinsky pursued Ronan in the first place. Why he wasn't content with the boy that was loyal beyond anything, the one that was there for him, that cared. And maybe on another night he would have shrugged it off, or said something cruel that he would have regretted and Proko would probably have forgiven him for.

But he can't do it, not tonight. Not after two weeks in the hospital with Prokopenko there during visiting hours every damn day. Not when he'd literally saved his life, gave him something to live for.]

I was in love with you when- when I dreamt you.

[He says it softly, like that's the answer, like he might just leave it there. But after a moment he sighs, pressing his forehead to the other boy's shoulder. As much as he hates talking about it, hates admitting to his own shame, he doesn't want to leave the other boy with half-answers. He doesn't want him to assume it's because he's not right, or not real, or not good enough.]

What if I dreamt you to love me?

[He looks guilty as he murmurs the words into his shirt. He pulls back and meets his eyes, softly brushing hair back from his face with something like longing in how his fingertips touch against his skin. There's something different in how Kavinsky looks at him, all the feelings he's been hiding, but also uncertainty.

He doesn't want to take something Prokopenko wouldn't have given him, and he'd never had the spine to ask. Would he even know? Would K just ruin the other boy with his own fears? He watches him like he thinks this might be the one thing that Proko could hate him for.]

Not on purpose, but I wanted you to want me.

[dreamedboy]

[For a moment, Proko regretted asking. He didn't like the sound K made, he didn't like thinking he was just digging into wounds. But then his breath caught and he felt- helpless, in a way. He'd known Kavinsky cared about him, but he'd never actually thought he loved him.

He'd never thought about K changing him to make him love him, either. Out of all the fears he had, that hadn't been one of them. Maybe thinking about it now should have upset him or something like that but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything except- relief, maybe. It seemed like a silly thing to worry about to him when he'd been sure he loved Kavinsky both before and after being dreamed back to life. Would he know if that had been changed? It was all a bunch of what ifs and he couldn't be angry with K for that.

They were both bad at this, weren't they?]

I think I've always loved you.

[He admitted in a murmur. There was nothing frightening about saying it, not when he knew now that K loved him.]

You should've said something sooner.

[His tone wasn't accusing or upset, just- sad. All the times he'd worried he wasn't good enough because he wasn't human anymore or maybe because he was too loyal, too obedient, too- or maybe not obedient enough, sometimes. He wasn't afraid to put Kavinsky in his place when things got rough; he knew that no matter how much they fought they'd still be friends the next day. He wasn't worried about losing his friendship but he worried about everything else.

And he guessed saying something sooner went both ways and he was just as guilty for not speaking up, but. He'd just assumed Kavinsky would let him know if he wanted him.

His arms tightened around the other boy a little more.]

I don't care if you did, though. Dreamt me to love you, I mean. Because I do, and you're- beautiful and- [His cheeks tinged pink.] -amazing and-

[But he didn't say anything else, biting his lip and trying not to look as flustered as he felt.]

[dreamforger]

[Maybe Kavinsky should have argued with him. But there's something touching about the way that Prokopenko tells him that he doesn't care if he did dream him to love him. And it Proko doesn't care-- He's always tried to treat him like he was just another one of his boys. He wouldn't have attempted to convince Skov that he couldn't be in love with him, and so he tried to give him the same respect. Because Kavinsky didn't think of him as different.

He wasn't a dreamthing, he was just- Proko.

Maybe it was a little bit selfish, but-- he couldn't help thinking that they'd both struggled enough over the last two weeks. He wasn't going to invite problems that don't seem to exist. So he just smiles, for what feels like the first time since Ronan left him alone in the dream field. He snuggles into the warmth of his body, the warmth of the fact that the other boy loves him.]

Yeah, I should have. But I still mean it. I still- I love you.

[Kavinsky shifts so that he's on his side, facing him, so that he can trail his fingers down the side of his face, cupping his jaw so he can brush his thumb against his lips. And his heartbeat skips, and he's glad that they're curled together in Proko's bed right now, because he feels unsteady. He doesn't know if it's just finally having it out in the open between them, or just the way that he's gone from the low of crawling home after the hospital to this. He bites his lip just to keep himself focused, shakes his head because he feels- overwhelmed, almost. Like he wants to fold into his arms and stay there.]

Kiss me?

[It's not the first time they've kissed, but- it would be the first time with the truth between them. It's the first time that Kavinsky has asked, trembling and undone. Selfishly he just wants to be loved, he wants to show Proko how much he loves him. He wants to kiss the way that he's always felt into his mouth, against his skin.

He wants to hold onto him, and keep him safe; even if he'd failed the first time.]

[dreamedboy]

[Maybe he should have cared; something about the loss of free will, but neither of them could say for certain if loving Kavinsky had been dreamt into Proko or not. Until there was a way to know, one way or the other, Proko didn't see the point in getting upset about it. There were plenty of other more valid things to worry about, things he wasn't going to think about right now because they just- they didn't matter in this moment.

He was far more interested in the way K said I love you, the way that it made him feel warm and wanted and like there were butterflies in his stomach and like, just for a moment, he was weightless. He'd always had a feeling Kavinsky was the one, long before finding out about what he could do, back when they'd just met. There was a reason he had a K tattooed on his right thumb. It was small and subtle and simple but every time he looked at it, he was reminded of his connection to the other boy.

Goosebumps tingled across his skin when K touched his face, and subtly he tipped his head into it, eyes half closing for a moment. He couldn't help but smile, sliding one hand up to cup the back of Kavinsky's head gently, and then kissed him just as gently. Most of the time, he didn't think of K as fragile, knew he could take care of himself, but- he also knew better than most who the boy was under the bravado and drugs and sly words. Right now, K was fragile- that wasn't shocking after what'd happened. Proko would help hold all of his broken pieces together with tenderness and affection.]

Do you want to-

[He paused for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to ask his question. In the end, he switched tacts, went for something bolder and therefore a little more frightening-]

Does this mean we're- dating?