brian's pout


Brock looked down at his phone with a frown. Brian hadn’t texted him in a few hours, which was unusual. He knew that his boyfriend was studying for his psychology final he had the next day, but he was also worried that he wasn’t taking the time to take care of himself. Brock had hardly seen him in a week.

Granted, it was finals week, and both were pretty stressed preparing for the tests and graduation, but Brian had a tendency to overwork himself and forget to eat or sleep; something Brock had to frequently remind him to do. 

Now, as he stared at the unanswered text message, Brock was fairly certain he was going to have to march over to Brian’s dorm room, and drag him out to dinner by his hair. 

He waved goodbye to his roommate Evan, who had his own nose buried deep within a textbook, before grabbing his room key and his wallet and leaving the dorm. Brian lived across campus, so Brock set a determined pace to the other building.

He was there within ten minutes, and let himself into the building. Brian lived on the third floor, and when Brock knocked on the door, he heard a distracted and tired, “It’s open.”

Brock opened the door and saw Brian sitting on his bed, his legs crossed and a book open on his lap. His elbows were rested on his knees and his hands were in his hair, holding his head up. “You know, any kind of weirdo could just walk in here.”

“With any luck they’ll have a gun and will shoot me.” Brian responded, not looking up.

“Have you eaten today?” Brock asked, sitting down next to him.

“Please don’t start with me, Brocky.”

Brock bit his cheek, deciding on a different approach. “So, I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down.” A slight twitch at the corner of Brian’s mouth was the only reaction he got. He continued on. “Brian, have you ever tried to eat a clock? It’s very time consuming.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious. I’d tell you a joke about chemistry, but I’m afraid I’d get no reaction.” and finally, when Brian looked up, Brock pulled the funniest face he could muster. Brian burst out into laughter, his arms clutching his stomach.

“You…are the biggest dork.” he gasped out between breaths.

“Ah, but I got you to look up from your book.” Brock grinned. “Now, you’ve literally studied all you can, Bri. You have the highest grade in that class. You will graduate whether you fail the final or not. You need to eat and sleep. Both of which I know for a fact you have not been doing. Get dressed. I’m taking you to dinner.” He grabbed the book from Brian’s lap before he could protest.

“But Brocky…” Brian whined.

Brock shook his head. “Nope, pants on now. March.”

Brian pouted but dropped his feet to the floor. “Fine, bossypants. I kinda like when you get like this. Very sexy.”

“Maybe I’ll let you study me like you studied those textbooks. After you sleep of course.”

“Promises, promises.”

Little Ones

Husband Dean x Reader

Summary: You and Dean have four children, and bed time is certainly a busy time.

Warnings: Implied sexual content.

Requested by anon

A/N: If anyone can guess who the kids are named after, huge brownie points for you!!! Let me know if you guys figure it out!

Originally posted by hunterchesters

“Stevie! Hold still!” you scold your four year old daughter as she tries to wiggle from your grasp. “Dean!”

Your husband pads down the hallway, chasing your five year old son, Brian, while balancing one of your twins on his hip, the other holding on to you.

Stevie soon slips out of your fingers, joining her brother as the run around the house. You sign, running your fingers through your hair as you begin to run the bath. Many laughs are heard from the living room, making you smile. 

“I wonder what they’re doing, huh Kenny?” you ask the babbling 6 month baby, and he giggles when you tickle his sides.

You shut off the water, making your way to the source of laughter. Dean had managed to catch both Stevie and Brian, tickling both their sides.

You give a warm smile. Dean was always so good with kids, especially your own. 

“Bath time. Let’s go, guys”, you say while taking Jimmy from Dean. Stevie and Brian whine, both pouting. “Maybe, if you guys are good, Daddy will read an extra long story tonight?”, you tempt. Their eyes both light up as they race to the bathroom. 

Dean gives you a grin, placing a kiss to your lips. “I guess I’m on bath duty?” he teases. 

You return his smile. “Unless you’d like to feed these two.” Dean laughs, placing another soft kiss on your lips before heading off to check on his two oldest children.

You feed and change the twins before laying them to sleep in the nursery. The house soon quiets after, and you assume Dean successfully got the others to sleep. 

You change into your pajamas and wash your face. Warm arms soon wrap themselves around your waist, making you smile. “Hey”, he whispers in your ear, soon attaching his lips to your neck and sucking hungrily, making you let out a soft moan. 

“Hey”, you answer, grinning when you feel your husband become excited behind you. 

He spins you around and kisses you roughly, leading you to the bed. 

You both grin knowingly. Having four young kids was not easy, and you and Dean hardly had time together anymore. The last time he bedded you was about two months ago.

“Let me show you how much I missed you”, Dean growls out, practically ripping your clothes from your body.

Oh, and did he…

That is, until a certain cry filled the house.

Tag List~ @prob8850 @poemwriter98 @torn-and-frayed @its-my-perky-nipples @skybinx-blog @umaakomton @trinityjadec @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @kittenofdoomage @kalifosterxx @daughterofthebrowncoats

Brian Molko for Select Magazine, October 1998

…Brian Molko is in a claret-coloured smoking jacket, holding the Cat From Hell: a fluffy white bag of pure evil, which has clamped its jaws around the thumbs of nearly everyone in the room at some point. It now lies peacefully in Brian’s arms, purring revoltingly. “I feel like something being lined up to be fucked by Oscar Wilde,” he simpers. “All 19th century and renty.”
The cat struggles in Brian’s arms. He clamps down on its neck with a gloved hand, manically stroking the cat. Then he pauses, and the cat leaps out of his arms. “Oh,” Brian pouts, deflated. “I thought I was good at handling pussy.”
“The cat’s gone,” Brian sighs. “That’s ruined the picture.” He pauses again, and then says, brightly, “Shall I get my tits out, then?”

London’s calling~Norcy {holiday para}~12/7/2015

 Marcy felt really excited that she and Noel had finally travelled to London for the summer. It was going to be only for a few days, but still she felt glad she saw her father and brother after so many years. Her brother had grown up so much. Her step mother was just the same as the last time she saw her. Cold and friendly, whenever she wanted. She behaved very nicely to Noel and even from thinking about it, she went crazy. Maybe it was a jealousy part…towarded her dad and deep down she wanted to have a good relationship with her. 

She spent lots of hours in the bathroom, getting ready and twirled in front of the mirror, checking her dress one more time. She walked out of the house and sat on one of the benches in the garden. She felt very awed with their new house, which wasn’t exactly new…but they didn’t live there, seven years ago, when she was here, too. She checked the tickets in her bag and blinked, feeling a wave of light in her face. She raised her head and saw someone on a tree and widened her eyes. “Brian…what are you doing there?”, she almost shouted. “Mom didn’t let me show you before and you wouldn’t have imagined”, he shouted so that Marcy could hear him. “C’mon, c’mon the ladder is over there”, he pointed and Marcy bit her lips. She held her dress and started climbing, trying not to fall down. “When you’ll have to go down, I’ll give you the rope”, Brian chuckled and Marcy rolled her eyes, before stepping in the tree house. “Oh my God”, she widened her eyes, as she went in. It was full of small lamps, a blanket and a pack of books and magazines. “Where’s Noel?”, he asked and Marcy shook her head, crawling inside in awe. “He’s getting ready, I think”, she pouted and Brian pulled the magazines in his arms. “Tell him to come up, too. Now.” he insisted with a huge smile. Marcy felt kind of glad that he looked like more like her dad. She pulled the mobile from her bag and texted Noel to come over to the garden. Brian stood in front of the small window and turned on the torch, ready to show Noel, where they were.

Creepypasta #TWO-HUNDRED: Angel Eyes

“Anna! Wake up! My angel is here!”

“What?” I eased one eye open until I was squinting at my brother. I would have opened them farther, except I couldn’t. He was shining a damn flashlight in my face.

I shooed my little brother away that night, barely even bothering to look. That was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

My mother had always been… “abusive”, for lack of a better word. She would yell at us, demean us, there was never a shortage of nasty words. As far as verbal abuse goes, Mom was dead on. Physically is where the line gets blurry. She hit us, for sure. But the times she did were few and far between, and honestly didn’t really hurt us. Mom’s abuse was mostly mental.

The worst was the time Brian let the puppy out. He had just gotten the dog for his 7th birthday, we hadn’t even had a chance to name it yet. He said he “thought it would be a good idea to let the puppy go exploring”. The puppy was hit by a car almost instantly. Mom dragged Brian out to the curb and screamed at him to look at the dog, then threw him to the ground and left him sitting there, crying. She stormed upstairs and disappeared into her bedroom. Later, she came down dressed in her work clothes, ordered me to keep an eye on my brother, and informed me that she’d be working a double shift and wouldn’t be home until the early morning hours. Then she drove off without saying another word to Brian.

I went out to him and asked him to come inside, offering him an ice cream from the freezer. He stared at the dead dog for another minute, gently crying and holding his scraped knee. Wordlessly, he came inside.

I couldn’t get him to talk to me at all that night. He sat on the couch, blankly staring at the cartoons I had put on, and I eventually got bored watching him. I went to my room and talked on the phone with my friend Lisa for a good hour. By the time I came out, Brian wasn’t on the couch anymore. After a minute of panicking and searching the downstairs rooms for him, I heard his voice.

Listening carefully, I realized it came from outside the house. He was sitting on the curb, next to the dog, looking up and to his right, as if he were speaking to someone slightly taller than him. Relieved, but still angry, I went out to him.

“Brian! What do you think you’re doing???”

“Sorry… I saw… There was a lady next to the dog. She said she was an angel. She said she was helping him.”

“You can’t see angels. They aren’t re-… They’re invisible. They watch over us, but they’re air colored.”

“No they’re not. They’re white.”

“Yeah, but they’re invis… Ugh. Whatever. Just get inside, it’s time for bed.”

I got him in his pajamas, not bothering to make him brush his teeth or shower. I was only 13, I wasn’t about to force him to do anything. Brian and I shared a room, which I hated. So I went to sleep in Mom’s room until she got home. She got back at around 3am, and kicked me out of her bed. Sleepily, I snuck down the hall to our room, when I heard Brian’s voice.

“Is it beautiful there?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, and listened. I thought maybe he was using the phone, which he wasn’t allowed to do so late at night. I also realized the light was on, it was shining out from under the door.

“It sounds really nice. But the puppy is dead. He’s hurt really bad. How can he be happy? Won’t he be sad forever?”

He paused.

“Oh. I get it. I guess. Can you tell me more stories about heaven, though?”

I listened for another 5 minutes, but he didn’t say anything else. Eventually, the light turned off. I snuck into the room, quietly, to see that Brian was either already asleep or pretending to be.

Ignoring him, I crawled into bed and went to sleep.

The next morning, Brian had all sorts of stories to tell. He just wouldn’t stop talking the entire time we were getting ready for school.

“And there are these really pretty, tall flowers that are even bigger than me, and animals ALL over the place, because all animals end up there, even my puppy. Oh!! And my puppy! He isn’t hurting at all anymore!!! You don’t hurt when you go there, nothing ever hurts again, and-”

He was interrupted by Mom, who was coming down the stairs. “Jesus Fucking Christ, will you shut the hell up, kid? I swear to God, if you say one more word about Heaven I’m going to send your dumbass up there”.

Mom made herself some coffee as Brian and I sat in silence. She poured it in a thermos and then pointed to the garage, gesturing for us to get in the car. We did.

As we drove to school, everyone was silent. Until Brian, very softly said “she says you’re not supposed to use God’s name like that”.

“What did you just say to me? God damn, kid.”

Brian exploded. “YOU CAN’T SAY GOD’S NAME LIKE THAT!!!”

Mom exploded right back, throwing the thermos over her shoulder at Brian. It smacked him right underneath the eye, and coffee poured out of it onto his shirt. It wasn’t hot enough to burn him, it was barely even lukewarm, but he screamed anyways.

“Shut the hell up!! You’re not fucking hurt!”

Brian pouted and quietly whimpered for the duration of the drive. We got to school, and he jumped out of the car.

“Wait,” Said Mom. She pulled his soccer jersey out of the trunk and handed it to him. As he changed out of his freshly-stained t-shirt, she said softly, “I’m sorry, Brian. But you shouldn’t talk to me like that.” He nodded at her, still teary-eyed, with a slight red mark on his cheek where the thermos had hit him. He ran off towards his class.

“Bye, Mom. Love you.” I said. She nodded back, a little teary eyed, herself.

I know Mom always felt bad when she exploded. She just got too angry sometimes. Still, if she could have just controlled her temper… Brian would still be here. But then again, if I had done a few things differently, Brian would be here, too.

When she picked us up after school that day, she was as nice as she could be. She bought Brian’s favorite chicken sandwich meal from the fast food place across town, and even went out of the way on the way home to get our favorite kind of cupcakes from this special bakery. Brian seemed happy enough, but he stayed silent as he ate, and as we all sat in the living room together watching his favorite movie, the one about the lost little clownfish.

Mom fell asleep on the couch, and Brian whispered for me to come to the room with him. I went, and we sat on my bed.

“Anna. My angel says she can make it so I never have to hurt again.”

“Brian, don’t start this again…”

“Please, Anna! Listen!” he begged. “I don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t like when Mom gets mad. The angel says she can make it so Mom will never be mad again, and I’ll never get hurt again. And I want her to do it for you too. She says she can, she says you’re still innocent enough to go too.”

“And where are we going?”

His face lit up. “Someplace wonderful. And it’s not like we’ll never see Mom again. The angel promised.”

“It sounds like you’re talking about Heaven. We can’t just run away and go to Heaven, Brian. You have to die first.”

“Anna…” He said condescendingly. “Of COURSE we’re not gonna die. My angel said so.”

“Yeah? And how can you just trust everything she says?” I sarcastically started rattling off clichés. “You just know? You can feel it in your soul? You can see it in her eyes?”

“No”. He said matter-of-factly. “She doesn’t have eyes”.

I scoffed and rolled mine. “OK. That’s enough, Brian. Angels have eyes. Go to sleep.”

“Not these kinds of angels. Not the kinds in charge of showing us Heaven. They use their hearts to see, just like we’re supposed to.”

That rendered me speechless. He beamed at me, and said “I’m going tonight. I’ll wake you up when she gets here.”

He did wake me up that night, and I pushed him away, thinking he was just playing make-believe, and that he’d go to bed soon enough. But an hour later, I heard my mom scream, and the door slam.

I found Mom out by the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. There was a car up on the sidewalk, parked on top of our mailbox. And Brian was in the street, lying in the exact same spot his dog had been in.

I… I’m not going to describe it. I’m sure you’ve seen a squirrel in the street before, all stretched out and dirty, flattened in some spots and swollen in others, bleeding everywhere. Roadkill is bad enough to see. Well this… this was my brother.

A drunk driver had hit him. The driver was arrested, and my brother was buried, closed casket, two days later.

The preacher at his funeral talked about Heaven. He talked about how all little boys and girls go there. How they never suffer, they never hurt, they never feel pain. And he talked about how they are not truly dead, but they live on in our hearts, and have their new life in heaven.

I’m not sure what would have happened if I had gotten out of bed that night. I don’t know if I could have stopped him from going outside. I don’t know if I would have ended up splattered across that curb too. I just wish I could forget the whole thing. More than anything, I wish I could forget that blinding, white light that shone in my face when I peeked at Brian in the middle of the night. It had to have been a flashlight. It really couldn’t have been anything else. But whenever I look back at the memory, I can almost picture a pair of dark, red lips, a sliver of a nose… but no eyes.

I can’t remember any eyes.

Credits to: Rebecca Mendex (Bex)