#abel writes

He knew they were all close, but he really hadn't expected them to do that for him. He definitely did not expect them to now be on live TV, talking about how innocent he was and how he was the most genuine person they had ever met. They spoke about a few dumb stories and told the world that they loved him and they wouldn't let this injustice be served, and Peter was going to cry he loved them.

Ned spoke about how he was the best friend he could ever ask for, how good Peter was and was always there for him, how he was spiderman only to help people out of the good of his heart and also a stupid hero guilt complex, and how he didn't think he would ever meet anyone braver.

Even Flash was there, and he even spoke about how he bullied him, and how Peter never fought back, and how selfless he was.

And Harley was there. He didn't expect that, he did not expect the anger in his voice as he told the world Peter was innocent, and how he was the most loving person in the world, which made him fall a little bit in love with Peter, and he was definitely crying now, because Harley hadn't fucking told him he liked him yet, and he loved them so much.

i. storge

A patchwork of avian-speckled farmland

Baby’s breath growing in between the open earth seams

and a rapture-colored bloom which I don’t know to name

Fern and ivy and pine all have a title I can lament to

A phrase I can pause mid-sentence to gesticulate

wildly with my hands and picture and finally recall with a softbreath gasp

(Roses have names, sunflowers too)

But this gentle ginger blooming

Not the root and spice but

the girl who held me in her bed and in

her fragile paper hands

Folded origami in my hair

Like my father who used to sing me to sleep

(I am a papercut on the webbing of you. Burn quickly, she says, I will be gone tomorrow)

ii. eros

To name is to grant awareness

I’ve met and adored oak and

oversaturated marigolds but

to the women who’ve bed me and

gripped me by the jaw

with solar flares between their knuckles

I can only gift a face

and the vague outline of kissable eyelids

(I learned the hard way that all of you demands to be touched)

It is wishing to know the sun

or humans inventing regionalized speech

It doesn’t matter, chicken and egg

in an empty lavender patchwork

when all I will see is the color of your hair in the flowerbeds

(You are a pyromaniac wrapped in silk sheets)

iii. agape

I was baking bread the day you arrived

which was the same day you left but

by then my oven had cooled to

The same temperature of your pulse

(Zero degrees kelvin, when time stops)

I want to bury myself in the crust of you

Knead into your doughy hips

Taste rye and wheat and

melted butter you insisted it be eaten with

(Why do you starve me?)

It is teaching where the light hits and why

Scientists can berate the sun for years and

beg her to teach them

and look! they can even create their own heat but

they cannot know where solar flares are born

or from whom

(You are the sunheat of it all, scientists should know dead languages are better left dead)

iv. philia

If I do not get up and dance I will go home aching

something you cannot bury in a velvet duvet

(I ask too many questions, you said. I think too much)

I will learn

what comes after bliss

and the fuckdrunk feel of your grip

and how to waltz with God

for the small price of my comfort

(I am learning to breathe for the first time, teach me the shape of your lungs)

I crave to dance with Her

To come to the altar as I prayed

to the curve of your spine

As I’ve met and loved daisies and poppies

It wasn’t that Jensen hadn’t noticed Jared—because he had and perhaps, more than he should’ve.

He had seen the way that Jared would look up at him through long eyelashes that fluttered like butterfly wings, flashing glimpses of his kaleidoscope gaze and the way in which the younger boy would bite his lower lip, turning the skin to a cherry red and Jared would look at Jensen as if hanging on every word he said. He had seen the way in which Jared’s body seemed to migrate towards his as if seeking warmth—always wanting to be close. He had felt the way that Jared would touch him—seemingly innocent at first; a light touch there on the arm, a playful push to his chest, fingers brushing against his neck that worked to correct the collar of his work shirt and his tie.

The touches had become less innocent over time and so had the looks Jared would give him. Jensen supposed the innocence seemed to fade the night that he and Danneel had gotten into the fight—the one that had led to their divorce. What was once a look of pure curiosity and open expression, soon turned to one of smoky blue and glimmering green with want. Hands that used to touch him in seemingly innocent ways, now lingered against his arms and chest and hands—the intentions of the younger boy’s touches quite clear.

Jensen should’ve seen it sooner—the way in which Jared seemed to linger when he and Danneel would fight and the snide glimmer in his eyes when Danneel would storm out of the house, leaving Jared and Jensen alone with his child. He should’ve seen it the night Jensen had come home late from the office to see Jared and JJ snuggled up on the bed together—Jared laying in Danneel’s abandoned spot.

And it was the exact same scene that Jensen had seen before when he got home from work that night. Jensen stood beside Danneel’s side of the bed, Jared curled onto his side with JJ sleeping in his arms—almost the same way Danneel used to sleep with their child. Fluttering eyelashes were closed, and cherry red lips were slightly parted as Jared’s chest rose and fell with each soft breath. His chestnut hair draped across his forehead, falling into his eyes and merging with his eyelashes.

Jensen didn’t know why, but he reached out, brushing the hair away from Jared’s eyes, his fingertips ghosting across the younger boy’s skin. Jensen yanked his hand away suddenly as if Jared’s skin had burned him the moment his eyes fluttered open, turning sleep hazed eyes up at him and a sleepy smile tugged at the corner of Jared’s mouth.

“How was work?” Jared asked quietly, his voice rough from sleep.

“Fine,” replied Jensen thickly as he stepped away from the bed to walk towards the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom.

Jensen stood in front of the mirror, undoing his tie and his fingers shook mercilessly, making it more difficult than it should’ve been to remove it. He had been so caught up in his task at hand, that he did not hear the shuffle of feet behind him as Jared came closer. He did feel hands caress his shoulder blades and Jensen turned to face Jared. The babysitter gazed up at him with a vixen twinkle in his eyes and a mischievous smile on his lips.

“Let me help you,” Jared said with a purr, already reaching his hands up to Jensen’s tie.

                                                    Revelations Verse Summary:

Sam Wesson may be one of the youngest agents at the Federal Bureau of Investigations, but his reputations proceed him as one of the most talented and well-established agents. After local authorities call the FBI in for assistance on a case that involves a serial killer with a God complex that seemingly suffers from religious psychosis, Sam Wesson meets his new partner, Dean Smith, who is also quite the talented agent himself, but as Sam gets to know Dean, he realizes there is more to his new partner than what meets the eye and Sam soon finds himself having to fight for his life.

Chapter Masterlist:

“I offered one of our jackets in trade for freedom,” they told him graciously, accepting the coffee with a smile. “I love you,” they said with a tired lopsided smile.

“I tolerate your existence,” Jeremy said before returning to his tea, the two sat in silence, for a moment until Jeremy cleared his throat, “Do you ever want that?” He asked.

“Want what?” Westley mumbled in response.

“You know, to fall in love, meet someone who makes you go all nutty like Jazz gets?” He clarified, pulling out his phone.

“Antony Jeremy Clark it is far too early to speak of anything deeper than coffee so drop whatever is raiding your mind until I have at least five more cups,” Westley told him with a playful glare, ending the conversation quickly.