cianfrie
Fandoms
- Supernatural (TV 2005) (7)
- Tennis RPF (4)
- Figure Skating RPF (2)
- Suits (US TV 2011) (1)
Recent works
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Summary
He’s still leaning against the wall, fighting the urge to open his eyes and sneak one last look at Carlos’s picture, when footsteps, distant at first, start to come dangerously close. And then a hand settles on his arm, burning like a glimpse of hell in his corner of paradise.
Carlos’s voice echoes off the narrow walls of the corridor. “Are you okay?”
Or, Jannik has just won Beijing and adrenaline and wine make it difficult for him to ignore his feelings for Carlos.
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Summary
His room is nice. White walls, a good view from the window, a place where he can hang the Kazakh flag. The desk is big enough to set his training bag on, and behind the door there’s a coat rack where Misha has hung the hook with his costume. It’s perfect. Or almost.
Ilia is in the next room, separated by barely eight inches of thin, flimsy wall that can do nothing against Ilia’s determination to make his stay in the village absolutely miserable. -
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Summary
Ilia doesn't notice a thing until someone grabs his wrist and gives it a gentle tug. The real world suddenly materializes at the edges of his vision, and at the center of it all is Misha. Ilia feels his heart sink a little lower in his chest at the sight of him. Misha, always Misha, appearing in the middle of the hallway like an angel of death Ilia can’t escape. Ilia hasn't seen him since the night of the final, and it’s like taking a punch straight to the gut.
Misha smiles at him tenderly. He’s an angel of death with good manners, one who gently squeezes his wrist before letting go, as if to make sure Ilia isn't just a hallucination. He’s an angel of death who might just be an angel after all, and Ilia doesn't quite know what to do with that thought. -
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Summary
Harvey is leaning against the doorframe, waiting for him. He’s in a short-sleeve T-shirt, and his hair falls across his temples in the most intolerably perfect way Mike has ever seen.
“I’m not a doctor, Harvey. I’m not on call twenty-four seven,” Mike grumbles, pushing his way inside before Harvey even moves to let him in.
“You’re saying you wouldn’t come if I were dying?” Harvey asks as he closes the door behind them.
Mike drops his bag on one of the stools at the kitchen counter and throws his dripping jacket on top. “Are you dying?”or
3 times Harvey is a jerk and 1 when he makes up for it.
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Summary
He still can’t find the courage to move—to slide into his side of the bed and act like a normal person, because he isn’t. He hasn’t been since Dad dumped them on the lakeshore and drove off with a promise to be back soon. Probably not even before that—probably never. It was just easier to lie to himself back then, before summer betrayed him with its blistering heat and Sam’s skin scattered all over the place. Before Sam’s eyes burned holes in his skull and his new, terrible voice started calling his name. Dean, Dean, Dean—pounding in his head like the owlsong in the trees around the lake.
or
Summer is the cruelest season of all, especially when you’re stuck spending it with nothing but your brother’s bones.