#involved at ALL like YES i’m not fucking crazy we’re settling for DUST at the moment 😭

[latinokaeya-moving]

there’s something so insanely vindicating and grounding abt complaining abt the genshin skin tone stuff to someone irl, showing them what passes as supposed “brown/darker skin” representation in the eyes of idiots, and that person squinting at the character for a long time and then dubiously going “they’re not even that dark…”

[fruitcoops]

Hey!! So if u want to, could u write a short fic or smth for number 25, because I am LIVING for a scenario where sirius just playfully bites remus and then he gets like super horny or the other way around.

The biting isn’t the central part of this fic, but all three parts of this series involve a solid amount of playful spicy bites. Here’s the third and final part of the night of Remus’ first goal! This has been a wild ride and honestly gave me great practice for smut writing, so thanks to everyone who supported the miniseries!

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for restraint (holding, mentioned once), a teeny-tiny moment of injury angst, and sickening domesticity. Oh, and the smut of course.

Whoever figures out the song this series was inspired by first gets a shoutout in my next fic! Hint: look at the titles...

They wasted no time in getting up to the bedroom again. Sirius tripped over his own shirt in the rush and grabbed it off the stair as Remus laughed his ass off a few steps ahead, despite the fact that his own long sleeve was still abandoned by the front door.

Their sheets were a mess from the night’s previous activities, but Sirius was too busy falling even more deeply in love to really care as they laid down on their sides, tangling their legs together and smiling into each kiss. “Are you sure you’ve got one more in you?” he asked, half-teasing.

“Do you?” Remus hooked his ankle around Sirius’ calf and rolled on top of him, cradling his face in his hands as Sirius lovingly felt along every bump of his spine. He was still a little foggy from the mind-melting blowjob, to be honest—nonetheless, he felt a familiar pool of heat gathering low in his abdomen as Remus shifted.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sirius murmured, slipping his fingers through soft caramel waves. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“You have me.”

“I want you,” Remus said again with more emphasis as he skimmed his hands under Sirius’ waistband. “My second goal only happened because of your perfect assist.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who got it in—hmmm.” He rolled his hips and Remus’ warm palms squeezed his ass gently. Lips moved down his neck, pausing to nip a hickey on the hinge of his jaw. A shiver ran through him, and he felt Remus grin. “I love it when you do that.”

“I can tell.” Sirius moved his hands further down, but Remus reached up and pinned them to the bed by his wrists. “Nope.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. You asked me what I want, and I want you.” Remus loosened his hold and leaned back to scan his face. “Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Consent is sexy.” Remus snapped the edge of his waistband lightly, looking around. “Do you know where the lube is?”

“What?” Sirius sat up on his elbows. “Wasn’t it on the bed?”

“I thought so, but I don’t see it anywhere.” After a moment of deliberation, Remus slid off his lap and began to straighten the sheets out, muttering under his breath. “It was here, right? I’m not going crazy?”

“Non, it definitely was.” Sirius got to his feet and joined the search, but he didn’t see the blue-tinted bottle anywhere. “Okay, you took it out of the dresser and hit your hand, then I put it here—” He tapped the right side of the bed. “—and I don’t think it moved much until after the thigh incident when we used it again.”

“Have we become those old people already?” Remus asked as he got to his knees and reached under the bed. “I’m 25, I can’t lose track of the lube yet. That’s got to be some sort of warning sign.”

“The only warning sign is that we’re both going to go to bed horny if we don’t find it,” Sirius grumbled, picking a dust bunny off his hand and shuddering.

“…not necessarily.”

He paused. “Fair point. Oh! Found it!” They must have moved more than Sirius remembered, because the lube had ended up wedged between the nightstand and the bedframe. “If I find any spiders down here, I’m going to scream.”

“Oh, you’ll be screaming alright,” Remus said as he flopped down on the bed and winked down at him.

“See, I know you love me when you still make sex jokes while I’m elbow-deep in dust because both of us are too lazy to move these and vacuum.” He groped around for a second longer before his fingers closed around a familiar tube and he drew his arm out. Unfortunately, something brushed against the back of his hand mere inches from the light and he shouted in alarm, scrambling away from the nightstand like it burned him.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, looking mildly alarmed.

Sirius scooted forward slowly, all his senses on high alert as he retrieved the lube. “Oh my fucking god, Remus.”

“What?”

“A sock? Really?” He reached back in and grabbed the stray sock, shaking it out as evidence. “I thought this was a spider!”

Remus was clearly biting back a smile as Sirius threw the sock in the laundry hamper that was literally three feet from the bed. “I love you?”

“I love you, too.”

“Now that you’ve successfully completed your rescue mission, can I make it up to you?” He sat up on his knees and drew Sirius back in with two arms around his waist, leaning up for a kiss.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sirius said as he obliged, allowing himself to be pushed into the mattress as Remus returned to his earlier position. The slight break had definitely had a negative effect on his general horniness, but it came back quickly enough under the heated touch of his fiancé. By the time Remus got around to sliding his pants down his legs, he was a puddle of bliss.

“Are you ready?” Remus asked, kissing the dip of his hipbones. “For real this time.”

“Hell yes.” Sirius handed him the lube and settled back into the pillows with a sigh, closing his eyes as the cap clicked and one of Remus’ hands pushed his thighs apart.

He took his time, mapping Sirius’ torso with kisses and love bites while his long fingers pulled and pressed in all the right places. It wasn’t until Sirius was keening on every breath that he finally slicked himself, distracting him from the initial pressure with a bruising kiss that seemed more fitting with the energy they had come to the house with all those few hours ago. “You’re so loud.” Remus grinned against his cheek when a particularly excellent thrust made Sirius moan.

“Says you,” he managed, nipping at his earlobe. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“How should we celebrate that beautiful assist?” Remus asked. Sirius was rather glad he sounded like he wasn’t expecting an answer, because at that moment his shaft slid against his prostate and the world went staticky for a second. “This seems to be working well enough.”

“You’re too coherent,” Sirius panted, gripping his waist tightly. “Merde, sweetheart, there—this night was supposed to be about getting you off.”

Remus’ quiet laugh was a little too tense around the edges to be as casual as he clearly wanted to make it and a sense of satisfaction joined the bubbling arousal in Sirius’ abdomen. “Believe me, baby, this is doing it well enough.”

“I can do better than ‘well enough’,” Sirius muttered, hitching his leg up and flipping them over to slide onto his lap slowly, relishing in the steady drag. He let his head fall back slightly and adjusted his knees into a better position. “Huh. This is actually kind of difficult after a game.”

“Told you so.” Beneath his hands, Remus’ chest was heaving, and he looked back down to see his eyes were wide.

Take it slow, he reminded himself. “At first I thought you were just being a baby about it, but apparently not,” he teased, pushing himself up a few inches before dropping down.

Thankfully, Remus didn’t immediately kick him out of the bed for bringing up the thigh incident. Instead, he cocked one eyebrow and started pushing his hips up to meet Sirius’ movements. “When have I ever been a baby about anything?”

Sirius pretended to think for a moment, then dissolved into laughter when Remus smacked him on the thigh. “Never, mon coeur.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Remus pushed him down with slightly more force and Sirius’ knees jerked inward reflexively. “Oooo, okay then.”

He did it again and Sirius’ back bowed, forcing him to prop his elbows on Remus’ chest. The sparkles faded from his vision after an indeterminate amount of time and he tried in vain to catch his breath, twisting a handful of sheets in his hand. “Close.”

“Close to what?” Remus’ voice was low and a little raspy, sending tingles down his spine.

“Close.”

“Not yet, you’re not. Can you sit up?” Sirius’ forearms nearly gave out, but he succeeded. Remus stopped moving beneath him. “Can you—can you loosen your grip a bit?”

“Huh?” Sirius blinked away some of the muddled dizziness; the snarky, dominant angles of Remus’ face had faded, replaced by discomfort. He frowned and let go of his shoulders, which he had been gripping for leverage and emotional support and—“Oh. Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, just a little tight,” Remus assured him, running his hands along Sirius’ waist and ribs. The marks on his skin where Sirius’ fingertips had dug in were light, all things considered, but guilt trickled in when he saw the placement. “Hey. I’m fine, baby, really.”

“I’m so sorry, Re. I should’ve been paying more attention—”

“Stop. Look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

Remus squeezed his hips lightly. “Look at me, Sirius. I’m okay. It was not your fault. Honestly, I’m a little flattered that I could make you stop thinking.” He reached up and pressed his thumb between Sirius’ eyebrows to smooth out the worry crease.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Consent is sexy,” he reminded him. Remus smiled up at him, bright and brilliant and so beautiful, then closed his eyes as Sirius circled his hips. This closeness with Remus never failed to set him alight from the inside, no matter how they did it. He was exhausted from the game and from coming twice already, but he was afraid he’d simply burn up if he stopped moving now.

“Oh, fuck,” Remus choked out; one of his knees drew up against Sirius’ lower back, which tilted him at just the right angle to brush his sweet spot with every thrust. “Fuck, baby, yes.”

The last shred of awareness left in his mind registered a string of desperate sounds rushing from his lungs, half-syllables of Remus’ name between wobbling whimpers and pleas for more, more, more.

“Come on, come for me.” He knew that voice. That voice featured in all of his best dreams, starred in his favorite memories, and highlighted everything he needed. That voice brought him home when he was lost in the dark. “Sirius, come for me.”

A wave of pleasure ripple down his back and he came, gasping and writhing, distantly acknowledging Remus’ moan when he followed suit with a final push. His thighs were completely numb when he laid down on his back, turning to drink in the sight of Remus’ flushed profile in the low light. He could barely see the places his fingers had been before around the pink of his post-orgasm skin. “Can we skip the shower?” he asked after a moment of astonished silence.

Remus nodded, laughing lightly as he looked over. “Yes, we definitely can.”

“I hate going to bed all sticky, but I don’t think my legs are functioning anymore.”

Remus kissed the tip of his nose and rolled onto his side so their knees touched. “I would love to agree with whatever you just said, but your accent is so thick right now and my brain is gone, which is not the ideal combination.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sirius murmured, kissing him chastely on the lips and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull him close. “C’est bon.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Remus yawned, snuggling closer and tangling their calves together.

“Hey.”

“Hmmm?”

“You played your first NHL game. And you scored two goals.”

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“I played next to you in my first NHL game.”

A slow, sleepy smile spread across Sirius’ face. “Yeah, you did.”

[ahlis-xiv]

journal 50.4

G’raha sat alone, semi-hunched over a piece of parchment as he worked. Although he did not show it, the drafting he ambitiously began was nothing short of a place between fascinating and downright tediousness. The solution to tempering that nestled within his mind and finding a proper way to convey it into some sort of physicality that others could understand took time and a level of focus that brought him back to his Studium days.

He did not mind the effort, really, yet part of him couldn’t help but feel he could be applying himself to something else...namely figuring out why his dear friend decided to depart in such a hurry without so much as a word.

G’raha sighed, and scratched out part of the formulae he attempted to use as a proper proof. It wasn’t correct or, rather, not good enough, and he knew it: it almost felt like he had to somehow invent a whole new notation and he was second guessing every attempt. That, he knew, was as strong a sign as any that he needed a break.

Abandoning his work for the more welcoming sight above Mor Dhona proper, he took to his usual perch and leaned over the ledge to watch the activity below. Ever since he arrived there—since waking up, really—G’raha found the habit of people-watching a welcome one when it came to clearing his head. It had also been an old habit as well from his time as the Exarch. It was difficult at times to not be reminded of it when he went there to be alone--not that it troubled him, but rather his thoughts inevitably wandered to those he had to let go. To old friends and, naturally, to her.

What would Lyna think, he wondered. Of everything? Despite assurances, both given and told to own self, he knew it was a question not quite answerable. He was unfettered, free—free to live the life he wished. A second chance. Yet something gnawed away at his heart that only grew in the wake of what occurred in Ala Mhigo. And the Warrior of Light was nowhere in sight.

He didn’t wish to admit it, but that this point most of all prickled his thoughts. She had been wounded in the confrontation: not severely but enough to warrant considerable healing, namely for her arms. She berated herself for not properly handling the situation, that it was foolish to not deal with Fandaniel and his summoning there and then somehow. When the dust settled with wounds seen to and mended, she slipped away and out of his reach.

G’raha’s hands clasped together in front of him, fretting as his anxiety swelled. Ahlis said many things in the aftermath at the menagerie; much of which he knew was said in a fury he rarely witnessed. He also knew he ought to not dwell on it, as it was not directed towards him—but it felt personal, watching the anger and the walls that suddenly erected around her, forbidding his approach. Surely she knew, she must’ve known that he cared—that they all cared? G’raha understood what it meant to seek solace, to lick one’s wounds after a poor bout in battle, yet to shut him out? Why?

He huffed a frustrated growl, and pouted to himself. This is not about you, G’raha, his more sensible self spoke in his mind. It did little to help when he knew naught what to do with his...feelings, with no soul to utter them to. For the moment, all he had in certainty, was himself.

Looking above to the darkening sky, stars were beginning to sparkle in the deep blue, the gloom weak and unable to hinder their shine. He hoped that wherever Ahlis was, and however she felt, that her safety was sure and her healing swift.

---

Ahlis suddenly grasped the pillow within her bare arms as a sneeze escaped her nose and immediately regretted it.

“Bless you, dearest,” Aymeric spoke above her, his hands gently working her back’s aches and pains into a soothing massage.

“Augh, no,” she said, voice muffled by soft cotton where she shoved her face into it. The great debate of whether she should lift her head up or not kept her in place, lest she reveal a potentially not-so-graceful mess. “I think I ruined it.”

Wordlessly and only with a soft chuckle of amusement Aymeric rose to retrieve a handkerchief as if reading her mind in her current discomfort. When he returned Ahlis was already sitting up, the pillow still pressed to her face. He did not know how to assure her that there were far worse things that could ruin one’s bedding, but seeing the flushed look upon her face while she cleaned herself as discretely as possible encouraged him to say nothing.

“Are you feeling better?” Aymeric asked, once she seemed satisfied to show herself, the pillow and handkerchief no longer covering her face.

“Yes, thank you,” Ahlis spoke, relief entering her voice. “I am sorry, about this, though.” Her hands still held onto the pillow until he reached for it himself, lightly tossing it aside and back onto the bed.

“It is of no consequence. My home is yours, including the aforementioned pillow.”

That made Ahlis laugh, as he hoped it would, and Aymeric took this moment to join her again, sitting side by side upon the edge of the bed. It was useless however to ignore the wrappings around both her palms and forearms, both of which had been kept out of sight when lying on her stomach. Catching his glancing eyes, Ahlis took that moment to adjust her bandages.

“The pain is mostly gone. Now it’s just itching,” she spoke, more annoyed than in any sort of true discomfort. “New skin takes some getting used to and breaking in, imagine that.”

“May I see it?” Aymeric asked after a moment’s pause, his voice careful in its near-whisper like intensity.

For a second, she hesitated. Unraveling them didn’t hurt much anymore, so when she did reveal the newly healed burns that rested beneath she didn’t hold back in extending her arm in front of him. If only her heart that thumped heavily in her chest agreed! Nerves, however troublesome they proved to be, would do little in assuaging his concern.

“There you are,” Ahlis said with an exuberance she hoped sounded sure and confident. “It’s not so terrible now, aye?”

It was not her intent to fool him, rather, it was better than the ire she felt deep within at how it happened, and better still than to appear caught off-guard or foolish to have been struck at all by such an injury. It had been a mistake, one that could’ve gone even more horribly wrong in an instant if not for…

“Oh, Ahlis...”

Her thoughts stopped, everything stopped. She was helpless as she watched the shock that touched his eyes turn to despair, to pain that flowed into the tenderness that came with his touch as he cradled her wrist to his cheek. There was a knot of scarred tissue just below where his lips met her skin; the first kiss was given there, then another just above it towards her palm.

Such sensations, intensified against her freshly healed wounds, rendered her voice frozen within her throat. It was almost too much; she released a heavy, shaky breath that gave him pause, and Aymeric turned to look upon her so intensely, so painfully, she dared think she might cry herself.

“It’s fine,” she found herself saying, finally, unsure if it truly was after all.

---

Later, long after they had gone to bed, she would wake to see the stars out in the beyond just outside the window, the silhouette of spires cutting across the dark. A rare, clear night in the city. Gripped by the sight, she stole herself away to find a place to write...

Evenings have proven to be the best, and only time, to write clear-headed these days. As if I do not need sleep.

The itching has finally subsided enough to carry on without thinking about it and now I can finally sit for half a bell to write while at the same time not wishing to scratch my skin off. I’ve had lacerations, all manners of bruising and concussive injuries. I’ve even been shot at! But note to self: never get fucking burned like that again.

I’m going to kill that bastard with his own medicine, and I will enjoy it

[there is a drawing here of a figure in a robe with a sword skewering it all the way through, who is also on fire]

The healing has progressed as it will, and I trust Krile and Alphinaud’s hands more than any other—although granted my sourness over it all could have been a little less scathing, I guess.

But what can I say, a lot of bullshite has been happening these days. I’m getting a mite bit enraged that these Ascian arseholes aren’t leaving me alone, and yet I am not entirely surprised. It’s not over until it is over.

gods when will that be never ah ha ha ha

In the meantime I have made good on my own promises to make my own self comfortable as best I can, heal as best I am able, and spending what time I can in Ishgard. The others are probably wondering when I’ll return to the Stones but until G’raha outlines our approach on implementing proper protocol on the tempering solution I honestly don’t want to hear about anything else. Alisaie should be helping, I am sure, as is Alphinaud too I think. It’ll be fine! And fast too.

I mean I would help more too but I don’t have a crazy as all hells academic background as they do seven hells I’d love me a curriculum found in the Studium within those stupid halls and their even stupider “zero involvement” stance on bloody everything

share your goddamn science you twits

I am far more tired than I thought. But! I am also finally able to think about the impending reconnaissance we’re bound to have soon once Thancred and Urianger return.

if something happens with them I swear to ever loving shite I am going to boot them back to the First with my fist

Without my Stupid! Arms! Annoying me!

OH is that little

[the writing stops here with an ink blot, as if the pen was dropped and left there, the smeared and distinct shape of a cat’s paw crossing part of the page]

[echo-three-one]

Good day tumblr.

I'm migrating to using google docs for writing and I found something I wrote that was unpublished.

It's like an OC x OC because I wrote this at the time I got invested in A LOT of contemporary romance books.

It's also NSFW, It is a one-shot and I don't know how I made that last sentence. I'm single since birth and maybe had a couple of girls in my life but never really made it together. Enjoy? I guess

Matt

I released yet another deep sigh as I tossed my controller on the couch. It has been two months since my heart got shattered but I still haven’t found the chance to move on. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to, that’s why my mind has been tormenting me ever since. Even my best bud gave up on me when after all those “conventional ways” he knew failed, evidenced by me still visiting her profile page every now and then. Heck, I even have her notifications of whenever she posts.

My phone vibrated and that specific ding means that it’s an Instagram post from her. Yes, call me crazy and all because I still am even after all this time. She posted a picture of a plane ticket and a passport to whoever knows where, it’s one of those photos that didn’t contain her face, meaning, it’s a personal and unsponsored post and it’s something she wants to express. See, I’m still clearly not over her. I groan in frustration and threw my phone beside the controller, as I slide down from the couch down to the floor like a kid who didn’t get the toy he wanted for Christmas. I lazily reached for the tub of ice cream on the coffee table beside me and looked at it, it’s half melted and sad, Just like me. I got up and brought back the sad dessert to my refrigerator and as soon as I got back, I saw myself on the mirror. Fuck, I looked horrible, my hair was a bird’s nest and my beard grew thicker each day. I’m actually glad my work doesn’t involve me showing up in an office because, I could get used to this look, I wanted the world to see how broken I am right now, I wanted her to see what happened to me. I surveyed around the room, it was a mess. Empty beer bottles sprawled over the living room, while chips were all opened and half eater on every chair of the room. The only good thing is that the mess only accumulated on one specific room, I don’t sleep on my bed anymore because I could still smell her on the sheets, and I never wanted that to leave.

A few more days passed and I finally did something not involving gloating: I ordered a cleaning service for the living room and specifically told them not to touch any other room. The past days reminded me that there’s more to life than her and I actually went outside today, grabbing my camera and slipping on my trusted hoodie which I use for work, I let the cleaning team fix my mess as I unwind by doing what I am really passionate about, taking pictures.

My best friend, Patrick, was actually proud of my decision, wishing he could support me but was stuck in his wife’s family gathering. I felt guilty that I didn’t talk to him the past months as I gloated, hearing someone who actually cares for me was a good feeling, especially after locking myself from the world after a miserable break-up.

As soon as I got to the park, I started taking simple pictures, flowers, children playing, flowing streams, and skyscrapers. It actually feels good to be back outside, seeing the beauty of the world not from a glass screen. I flipped through my camera roll and examined each photo I took. They really weren’t that good, but mixed with a nice back story, It could be a killer post. I chuckled as I rotate the dial of my camera and went a little too far back and I froze in the middle of the park. It was a picture of me and Bianca, my ex-girlfriend, whom I missed so much. It was taken on a gazebo at the park we visited back then and a 7 year old kid took the photo, We were travelling around so if the two of us were In a photo, it means we asked someone to take it for us. The said photo was where I saw myself smile the widest. She was wrapping her arms around me from behind and my eyes were closed, smiling while she was looking at me and laughing.

A single drop fell on the screen and I woke back to my senses, did I just cry? I looked around and saw children running about as I looked up into the sky and saw dark clouds forming. So much for going outside…

That evening, I actually had the inspiration to work. With the storm brewing up outside, sending tendrils of lightning across the sky, I decided that It was the perfect set-up to get something done. Hours flew by as I managed my schedules and checked my e-mails letting my clients know that I was alive and just hit a rough patch. I didn’t even realized that my entry got nominated on a competition I signed up for earlier that year, which was probably the little ray of sunlight on my gloomy skies. Just this evening, I managed to book 3 photo sessions for next week, which might give me something to get busy on while I do the inevitable: moving on.

Later that night, my phone buzzed a familiar tone. She was calling me. Rubbing the sleep off my eyes, and making sure I’m not dreaming, I hurriedly grabbed my phone. It’s her photo. She. Is. Actually. Calling. Me.

My heart sped up and I took deep breaths. I’m not dumb. I’m going to pretend I’m over her. I’m doing this for myself.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Hello! Is this you Matt?” her voice reignited my mind. Shit. My mind went blank.

“Uh.. Yes. This is Matt. Who is .. Who is this?” I stuttered. I’m not a great pretender, but I did my best.

“This is Bianca, your uh.. friend. We’re still friends right?” she chuckles, the sound of an intercom could be heard from behind. As I thought, she’s in an airport.

“Oh. Of course, Bianca, we are.” I scoffed. Yeah. Friends. Would it hurt you to say we’re at least ex lovers?

“Listen, um.. I badly need your help. I’m at the airport right now and they canceled my flight due to the storm. I was about to look for nearby hotels but there’s a concert right now that filled up the rooms fast. Do you mind if I stay in there for a while?” my breathing sped up. No way, she’s spending the night here?

“Oh sure sure. I’ll come pick you up there, just wait for me..” I stuttered and ended the call, so much for being able to move on, I managed to make a fool of myself yet again. Without any more hesitations, I quickly prepared myself and drove to the airport.

Bianca

“I won’t regret it.” I whispered one last time as I sat on the waiting area by the entrance, hugging my phone close as I breathed out a heavy sigh. I can’t believe I’m in this situation, it’s like fate wanted me to give Matt a proper farewell, the one with no vague explanations and quick goodbyes. I closed my eyes and braced myself as sooner or later I’d be facing him. He sounded fine over the phone, except he felt nervous.. and hesitating. Maybe he’s busy and he has to make quick changes so he could cater to me. He shouldn’t, but knowing him, he would. Everyone who knows Matt knows he’s very accommodating.

“Bianca..” a voice whispered in front of me as I opened my eyes.. Matt stood there, with an umbrella open and another one hanging on his hand. He offered his other umbrella and carried my luggage behind me. I can’t help but wonder how he’s holding up and the longer I wonder, the more shy I become knowing that I caused a part of this change. Last time I saw him, he was this slightly chubby, always freshly shaven and a smile never leaves his face. Now, he looked like he lost a couple of pounds and he hasn’t shaved in days as his stubble grew around his mouth, and he’s not fooling me with that fake smile he plastered on his face. He should know that I could see through that smile of his.

I started to feel nervous as I entered his car, although nothing much changed, the consistency bothered me a lot. It felt the same when we were together, the smell, the same things in his dashboard and even these dust settling on the floor. Did he not use his car ever since? I shouldn’t be bothered by this, but I can’t help but be curious as to what he was up to all these months.

I admired how Matt handled this situation maturely, he kept casual on his questions, evading everything that would lead to the events of two months ago. I took the chance to ask how he was doing and surprisingly, he answered quickly that he took a lot of photo sessions and how he got nominated on some indie photography award. At least that talk shook off the worry that was growing in me and gave me hope that this night will turn out great rather than a disaster.

As soon as we walked into his room, he talked about how I should feel at home since I am his guest. He talked so nonchalant it felt like he rehearsed what he said, I tried to ignore his emotionless introduction as he led me to his bedroom, I glanced around and noticed that nothing really changed during my time here, and it probably means that he’s holding up pretty well. He settled my luggage beside the bed and he grabbed a pillow and some comforters, and single-handedly carried it outside.

“I’ll be sleeping by the couch if you need something. I mean, you probably know your way around, Good Night, Bianca.” he says as he slowly shut the door, leaving me alone in his room. I slowly plopped myself into his comfortable sheets and tried to shut my eyes, but I can’t help but smell my old shampoo in his pillow. Slightly bothered, I got up and took a whiff at the pillow and realized it was my smell, I quickly grabbed the other one and caught a whiff of Matt’s scent on it. He probably doesn’t use the whole bed when he sleeps, I thought to myself, dismissing any other thoughts and tried to sleep. I shifted positions every other minute until I couldn't take it anymore. I grew curious until the point that I wanted to confront him about it. It looks like the talk we’ve both been evading should happen.

Matt

I fluffed my pillows one last time and glanced at my bedroom door for the last time. She’s in there. I muttered to myself. I wanted to talk to her one last time, maybe ask some questions and say what I feel… But that won’t happen tonight, she has a lot of things on her plate right now and has to deal with rebooking a cancelled flight, I should probably stay out of her way. I heard the door creak and I quickly got up and locked my eyes on her, as she peeks at the door.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked.

“I’m just going to get some water.” She replied as he walked to the kitchen, I can't help but let my eyes follow her as she carefully moved to the fridge. She was wearing her favorite pajamas, pink with flower prints sprawled everywhere. I smiled as our gazes met.

“Feeling comfy?” I asked.

“Yeah, what about you?” She nodded and nudged toward my direction.

“Yes.” I replied shifting comfortably on my couch, grinning like a little kid. She let out a soft chuckle and entered back to the room. I smiled as she shut the door and drifted myself to sleep.

The cold burst of air crossed against my foot and made me shiver, this wasn’t supposed to happen, did I forget to close the windows? I slowly got up and looked around, I wasn’t dreaming, my ex is still here. I peeked at the balcony and saw her staring at the moon, I saw that she scratched the pajamas and is now wearing possibly only her underwear behind that silk robe, a robe she got when she competed that one competition overseas.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked her as I offered a mug of warm milk. She looked surprised and a faint blush on her face formed as it was illuminated by the moonlight.

“Actually, yeah. Just thinking of what’s ahead.” She smiled as she grabbed the mug, wrapping it with her hands and blowing the steam away and taking a sip. “You?”

“You opened the balcony and the cold breeze kinda made me shiver.” I laughed.

“I’m sorry.” She bowed and chuckled softly. “I never knew you were that sensitive to cold.”

“Well, I wasn’t until…” I answered while I looked down on myself, emphasizing how loose my shirt was.

“Oh.. I noticed that. What happened? You hit the gym? Oh, you’re trying to impress someone! Do tell!” she asked grabbing my shirt, I could feel the shakiness in her reply, as if it was invading uncharted territory.

I sighed. “I can’t lie to you… I didn’t really want to bring this up but… I forgot to eat. When you left… You can forget that detail. I just want this off my chest, that’s all.” My heart pounded through my chest as I told her.

She pursed her lips and averted her gaze elsewhere. “I’m sorry about that…” she said but I shushed her mouth with my index finger. “You don’t have to… It’s my fault.” I said, trying to save her from recalling what she did. I didn’t want that, I wanted her to know that I’ve been trying. I continued talking, I told her about the things I learned from her, and that I was willing to move forward with my life, I wanted her to keep the details of our break up to herself, so I could evaluate on myself and become a better person. Lastly, I told her that I still loved her up to this very moment, and how it might take a while for it to slowly fade away.

A tear fell from the corner of her eye and I wiped It off with my thumb as I cupped her soft warm cheeks, her hands slowly grabbed mine and slowly guided it to her heart, I felt it pound and of course, I felt her soft breasts as she let me feel it.

“I’m still at fault for letting you go like that… I didn’t even consider how it’d affect you…” her voice croaked and I can’t help but embrace her and rub her back.

“I guess, it’s just like that sometimes, Bianca. Words don’t need to explain everything.” I whispered to her ear as I slowly accepted that we were never getting back together. I have lost the war for her heart and at least I did it with her wrapped around my arms.

She then looked up to me, reaching her arms on my cheek, gently rubbing my stubble. She then pulled my face close to hers as our lips met each other. I hesitated at first, but I’m only human and I still loved her, so as I felt her tongue beg to enter me, I tilted my head and wrapped my tongue against her, tasting her again possibly for the last time. I gripped her waist, slowly sliding my hand to her ass and held it tight pulling her body close to me. This action made her moan while she was inside my mouth and I closed my eyes wishing this moment would never end. Bianca quickly hoisted herself toward me and wrapped her legs on my hips which led me off balance. I quickly regained composure as I blindly led her to the couch and we both crashed on it while she was straddling on my lap.

We almost never had the time for sex, it was either she was too tired or I was and most of the time, she's away for trainings. If I was given the chance to rate all of our sexy moments together, this was possibly one of the best, yet it also is one of the worst, as it was the last one. Our make out session was full of soft kisses on every angle possible, smacking sounds echoed across the room along with soft pants and groans escaping from our mouths. My hands clung on to her ass most of the time, slowly rubbing her soft ass cheeks and stretching it outward during long kisses. She didn't stop me, so I started kissing her chest area as I let her perky nipples peek through her bra.

All I got from her is a smile and a sparkle in her eye saying 'go ahead' and I began to suck it and lick around her nipples, her soft moans felt rewarding as her hand guides my free hand to play with the other one. I hungrily sucked on both her nipples, changing course quickly, giving each of her breasts undivided attention. This went on for quite a while, until she moved back and pushed me back, her hand trailed through my chest, teasingly grazing through my nipples and slid down to my stomach, gripping the hem of my shirt and pulling it upward. All I did was oblige and she lifted my shirt off and tossed it behind her. She then left my chest and grabbed my shoulders, guiding me to rest my back on the couches' arm rest as she crawled towards me, giving my chest a soft kiss, slowly trailing down just below my belly button. Her eyes looked at me and our gazes met, she smiled menacingly as she grips my cock through my pants and slowly rubs it. I let out short and fast pants as she slowly yanked my pants down while I quickly pulled it off my feet and kicked it away.

Her index finger slowly circled around my shaft as she spread my precum around it and moved her mouth and began to devour it whole. My mind began to blur as I let out a huge sigh, my hand moved her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Her warm tongue welcomed my cock as it licked the shaft like an ice cream cone, then started circling around it finishing her act by going deeper into her mouth. Fuck, I wanted to cum so bad but I shouldn't, so as soon as I felt it drawing close, I yanked her hair up. She didn't flinch. I was expecting her to be mad at me, but all she did was flash a wide grin on her face and all I could ever do is slowly get up and quickly push her to the other side of the couch and pin her.

I pressed my whole body into her and my hand quickly unclasped her bra, setting her impressively huge tits free. Grabbing her breast, I quickly leaned into her mouth and kissed her angrily, growling inside her as our tongues clashed inside each other. My hand slowly let go of her chest and my mouth slowly trailed down to her dripping wet pussy, angrily pulling her panties down and tossed it behind me. I started playing with her pussy by giving it soft licks, my tongue barely touching her inner senses, then I applied a little bit pressure, followed by steady repeated licks on one area while my fingers spread open her labia.

I stopped and guided her to sit on the couch properly as I sat next to her, spreading her legs wide and let my fingers enter her, feeling the warmth and tightness of her pussy. I stopped a moan from escaping her mouth as I kissed her while my hands played inside her. I picked up the pace and all she could do was pant and cup my face, letting me kiss her as she moans inside my mouth while I continue to pleasure her using my fingers. I grinned at her and kissed her tits, my heart racing as I felt her getting excited at the effect I have on her right now.

"Oh. My. Fuck. Matt." she moaned in between pants, her voice quavered giving me the motivation to move my fingers faster, as I hear the sound of her pussy and my fingers compliment each other. She arched her back as I steadily pleasured my mouth on her right breast.

"So good.." she whimpered as I felt her wetness in my fingers and moved my lips back to hers, my fingers now moved slowly inside her. She panted and straddled herself on my lap, facing me with lust sparklin on her eyes as she gripped my cock and guided it slowly in her. Her wetness easily drenched my shaft as my mind went hazy when she quickly sat on my cock, letting out a soft yelp as she bounced on top of me. She started it slowly, letting us moan 'haa' at different intervals, as she circles her hips while slowly sitting on my cock. All I could do was open my mouth in pleasure, while looking at her maneuvering my cock like a cowgirl.

My mind will never forget this memory of her, riding on my cock and her tits bouncing in front of me while I held onto her waist. Ever since she picked up her pace, our soft 'haa's turned into loud 'aah's as the sound her ass clapping with my thighs rang on my ears. She continued to bounce as she leaned forward to me, letting our foreheads meet and eyes steadily lock in each other.

"Holy shit, you're still amazing." I whispered and all she could reply was a kiss, another long kiss while my hips met with her bounces. I felt my orgasm close, so I broke the kiss to warn her. "I'm about to c-" she cut me off with another kiss, as I felt my cock release waves of hot cum inside her, feeling her tighten me as we slowly ease the pace until it stopped. As soon as I pulled my cock, I saw her pussy drip down my cum, a smile escaping my face while I pant.

"I guess this is goodbye?" I whispered as I asked her for one last kiss, and she obliged, giving me the closure I needed to move on. Funny story is, we had more steamy sex after that, in the kitchen, on the bed and even on the floor, I even sneaked into her while she showered. But at the end of the day, I managed to delete her name from my contacts, along with unsubscribing on her notifications and washing the sheets she used to sleep on. Later that day, I looked at the sky as her plane flew past the building and took a deep breath. I guess first love never dies, but then again not all first loves are not meant for you.

[achubbydumpling]

Weeping Willows

Rating: Mature Words: 1761 Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Angst, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Alan Deaton Being an Asshole

(I wanted to write smut. It wasn't even about these two. Why the hell is this what I end up with at the end of the night?? Also this does NOT contain chubby kink.)

Stiles’ teeth clashed together when Derek’s body hit the floor. Once the dust had settled, so did a deafening silence. Stiles ran to the ground floor. He couldn’t see Ennis anywhere and the sounds of fighting did not resume upstairs.

Derek lay motionless. Stiles held his breath and walked towards the unmoving body. His eyes were closed. Only when he got within arm’s reach could he finally see Derek’s chest moving ever so slightly. He rushed forward, took a deep breath in, and started checking Derek for injuries.

Read on AO3

“Derek? Hey, man, are you ok? Come on, big guy, the fall wasn’t that bad now, was it?”, Stiles rucked up Derek’s shirt and discovered that a piece of rusty rebar had pierced though Derek’s chest, right beneath the ribs on his left side.

“Ok, I know you’re not supposed to remove the thing doing the stabbing until the paramedics arrive, but since I don’t think you’d go to the hospital anyways, this has to come out. Before you heal over it”, Stiles wiped away the grime on his face, “or something else disgusting.” Stiles finally looked up at Derek’s face. His teeth were clenched, but he nodded.

“Here goes nothing”, he whispered. He barely managed to move Derek’s upper body an inch before his grip slipped and Derek slammed back down onto the concrete.

“Shit. Sorry. How are we gonna get this out?” Stiles leaned closer to the wound and carefully pushed down on the edges.

“Damn, looks like it’s already healing.” Stiles looked back up at Derek’s face. His teeth were still clenched, but then he slowly breathed out and tried to relax.

“Call Deaton.”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry, normally you don’t get him involved like ever.” Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket and nearly dropped it when Derek tried to push himself up from the rebar. Derek fell back down before he could clear the spike. He couldn’t hold back the scream of pain, arching his head into the floor and trying to breathe through it.

“I can’t get up. I can’t let it heal. Deaton’s the only choice.” Stiles swallowed and looked to the upper levels to see if any of the pack were still there.

“Everyone alright?” Derek asked and glanced in the same direction as Stiles.

“They must be going after the alpha pack.” Derek tried to get up again after hearing that, but it was no use. Stiles moved closer to him and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Trying to keep him from moving.

“You’re only making it worse. Look it’s bleeding again.” Sure enough, thick dark blood stained Derek’s shirt.

“I’m keeping it from healing, or you’ll have to cut that thing out of me. Would you prefer that?” Stiles shook his head and swallowed again.

“No, ‘course not. I’ll ask Deaton about it, ok? He’ll know what to do, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.” Derek wheezed a laugh before groaning in pain again. Stiles started pacing when the phone rang for an uncomfortably long time, but eventually Deaton did pick up.

“Stiles, my young protégé.” Stiles bit at his cuticles and shook his head in irritation.

“Listen, I don’t need your mysterious wizard shit right now. I need a veterinarian.” Deaton chuckled at that and took his time to answer.

“Alright,” he drawled. “Where is your alpha stuck right now?”

“The abandoned mall outside town. Ground floor.”

“Ok, I’ll be there. Try to keep him awake, the blood loss might make him a bit drowsy around the three-liter mark.” Stiles glanced down at Derek. His blood had already started pooling on the left side.

“I don’t think he’d be drowsy by then. I think he’d be dead.”

“Oh, don’t worry so much. I’ve had wolves survive worse. I’ll just swing by the clinic to get some supplies. I’ll need maybe an hour.”

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks.

“An hour? I know you’re all high and mighty about your balance-shit or something, but there has to be something like the Hippocratic oath for vets as well. He’ll be dead in an hour. Hear me? You’ll have his blood on your hands if you don’t move your ass.” Deaton chuckled. Again.

“Right, right. Quite feisty today. I’ll make it quick then.”

“Yes, you better—”, but Deaton had already hung up. Stiles gripped his phone tightly and sucked in a breath.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’s just been alive for too long to appreciate mortality.” Stiles kneeled beside Derek and tried to smile, but it made his muscles ache.

“Yeah, right. He’s just a holier-than-thou asshole.” Derek laughed quietly. A cough ripped through him, and he pressed his hands against his side.

“Ok, no more moving around. Deaton said you might get ‘drowsy’ after losing three liters. So, we’re not doing that, ok?” Derek lifted his right hand and gave a thumbs up before relaxing and closing his eyes.

His name is the last thing Derek hears before giving into the darkness of unconsciousness.

+++

Stiles fell back onto the bed. The old coils protested the sudden impact. Derek was still taking his shoes off, but Stiles didn’t call him out on it. They both needed a bit of time to come back to reality.

Apparently, a longer time for Derek because he quietly started laughing. He was staring at Stiles’ nose where a piece of toilet paper was stuffed haphazardly to stop the bleeding. Stiles started laughing at Derek’s ridiculous timing.

“You’re a crazy fucking son of a bitch.” Derek said. It looked like he was rubbing some dirt from the corner of his eye. “Don’t you ever do something that stupid again. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear, captain.” Derek’s expression hardened at Stiles jokey answer.

“Don’t.” He whispered and finally lay down next to Stiles.

“I won’t”, Stiles reassured him, “but I’m alive. So, don’t worry.”

“You’re alive. Still alive.” Derek muttered while brushing back the long strands of hair that were matted to Stiles’ forehead. For a moment the world seemed to stand still. It let Derek take in how lucky they had been tonight. No major wounds, no casualties. Just Stiles and him against the world. And wasn’t that a comforting thought.

This time Derek didn’t look away, not for a second while Stiles was studying his expression. A familiar sense of calm settled over him and slowed his heartbeat. An easy smile settled on his lips, and he was just about to flop down next to Stiles to get a few hours of sleep when Stiles leaned forward on his elbows to get closer to Derek’s face.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

For a second Derek didn’t move at all. Then he breathed out heavily and started laughing again.

“Yes. God, yes.” He gripped Stiles’ head in his right hand and cupped his face, but before he could actually kiss him, he was once again overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of the toilet paper stuffed up Stiles’ nose. A fondness settled in his bones that left him more tired and satisfied than he had ever been before.

“You’re alive. You’re here. You bested the monster of the week.” Derek stroked his thumb down Stiles’ cheek. A yawn overtook Derek’s smile and Stiles said with a fond smile.

“We did. We really did. How about we get some sleep first?” Derek nodded and yawned again.

“There is no one that I’d rather sleep next to.” And Stiles could work with that. More than just work with it.

+++

Derek didn’t look up from his book when Stiles jumped up from the floor.

“Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.” Was all Derek said.

“I know.” was all that Stiles answered when he took his phone out and opened Spotify.

“How about ‘Come on Eileen’?” Stiles looked at Derek, but before he could say anything he interrupted himself: “No. I know.” Seconds later an all too familiar melody played from the phone’s tinny speakers.

“The quality’s really shit, but I don’t have my speaker and it’s not that important that I—"

Derek hummed in agreement but didn’t look up from his book. An uneasy silence filled the room before Stiles finally broke it.

“Dance with me.”

Derek finally looked up and furrowed his brows.

“I don’t dance.”

“I know.” Stiles nodded his head and smiled wide. He took Derek’s hand, their fingers intertwined without them thinking about it and pulled the book from Derek’s other hand.

When he was pulled up by Stiles, he never stopped looking into his eyes.

“I don’t dance.”

Stiles just smiled and put his arms around Derek’s neck, he leaned in close and gave a quick peck on Derek’s lips. However, when he tried to move away Derek pulled him back into their embrace and kept Stiles about an inch from his face, they didn’t speak. The only sound coming from the small phone speakers.

The intro of the song was just coming to an end and the singer finally croaked out his first words when Derek kissed Stiles again and again and another time. As the chorus started Stiles began gently swaying from side to side while Derek stood still, almost lifeless apart from the storm in his eyes.

He hugged Stiles closer and pressed his face into Stiles’ shoulder, who just laughed quietly and whispered: “Are you doing the weird scent-thing again?” Derek huffed out a breath of air but didn’t answer. “It’s ok, I won’t tell anybody the sourwolf has got a soft side.” Ever so slightly Derek started swaying as well and pulled Stiles even closer.

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” Stiles nodded into his shoulder

“I’ll see you again.” Derek insisted.

He propped his chin up on Stiles’ head. Stiles knew this tactic.

“It’s a small world.” Derek’s left hand move up to Stiles’ neck and pressed his face into Derek’s shoulder. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes.

“Don’t. Just listen.”

And Derek listened.

They both stayed quiet, just gently swaying like willows in the wind, they were so much like trees. Their roots had grown, not deep nor thick, but it hurt when they were ripped from their earth.

The Nemeton was a constant presence surrounding Stiles by now and Derek could hear its low hum in Stiles’ core. The emissary of this land had been sent on a mission by the Nemeton. An honor.

Derek was quiet for a long time and listened to that dreadful hum. If he could just speak with the tree, but his mom wasn’t here to negotiate with it. And now Stiles was gone too.

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Even If the Waters Rise 3/5 (*cough*)

Shadowrun inspired Mermay part 3 out of *now* 5 - it’s a monster. In this edition: Drama, drama, and once again, relationship drama.

Also, warnings for the whole planned thing: blood, gore, and violence; cannibalism (human on metahuman); questionable jokes and questionable totem choices; ambiguous relationships; referenced limb loss/cybernetics/etc; mating cycles.

*

Give or take a few days, Jesse turns up three weeks later, lacking fangs or a sun allergy, albeit with a certain pallor to his skin and aversion to the light, but that's easily explainable by the obvious hangover he's sporting, the kind that comes with a days-long drinking binge.

"Broke up already?" Jack pours himself a drink and then slides Jesse the bottle with about half of its contents remaining. He obviously needs it more than Jack.

"Don't want to talk 'bout it."

"Good. Because I'm not interested."

He ends up with all the sordid details, anyway.

It takes over two hours for Jesse to explain that his perpetual stalker vampire ex dumped him two nights past the club incident due to him supposedly smelling like a wet dog that also found and rolled in some prime ripe carrion. Jack's not going to comment on that. To him, Jesse reeks of his cigars first and foremost, and maybe under this odor hides a note of wet canine fur, mangy and full of dust - reminiscent of petrichor but more acidic and scratching the throat if inhaled too deeply or closely. Now, it's also alcohol sweat. But those two hours are enough for Jesse to get himself back into the drunken stupor.

Jack relocates him to the couch and orders take out - settling for some suspicious pizza as the safer option out of the available, even if he has trouble deciphering the ingredients. Someone out there probably knows what exactly 'sea chicken baby' is.

To his morbid astonishment, the 'Chicken of the Sea' turns out to be a sea cucumber, bland as fuck if not for the cheese and the sauce - and he's comfortably sure it would taste better raw than baked. He eats two slices and leaves the rest out on the counter for Jesse - and the state Jesse's in, he would probably be happy with a trashcan left out in some alleyway to pick through.

By the looks of him, that's a fair assumption to make, and not at all mean or undeserved.

But the question of how Jesse tracked him down remains. Their hidey-holes over the whole coastal area number in closer to a hundred than a fifty, so it's either an incredible draw of the luck (including the dang spirit dog) or someone had pointed him in Jack's direction. He brings it up during the check-in with Sombra, sure to vent his general disposition at both Jesse's intrusion, and the required daily contact.

"I think some responsibility would do you good," she brushes him off, "so take care of the puppy instead of moping by yourself for days."

"Maybe, just maybe, I do have a reason to mope," Jack snaps at her, "ever thought about that one?"

Sombra sighs.

"I don't know what had happened between you and Gabe, but..."

"Oh, you could, just load it up."

He immediately regrets going off on her, it's not her fault. Only it is her fault, in an illogical and convoluted way - because right now, he needs someone to blame and that someone will not be him.

"I'd never do that unless you want to show me."

Fuck this shit. He's tired and emotionally drained - he didn't even think it was possible.

"Listen, Jack," Sombra continues after he fails to answer her, "you have no idea what ice I had to get through just to send him a message, and the moment he got it, he just dropped everything and walked out of the meeting."

"Yeah, his asset was malfunctioning."

"Whatever happened, you're taking it hard, and you need something to occupy your time because sitting around is doing you no favors to your state of mind."

"Then find me something to do that doesn't include babysitting the human disaster all broken up over my couch."

"The fleet." Sombra mulls something over and Jack, elbows leaning on the windowsill as he finishes his drink, looks over the almost empty street below. "I'm running into walls and I'll need help with some more traditional intel gathering."

"You need hired muscle."

"The gist of it, yes, I need someone to beat some people up so they cough their contacts up, but I'm still pursuing some other venues right now."

"Tell me when you actually have people to rough up, the downtime's killing me, and this place's a total shithole."

"I know. I'll have tickets for you and the puppy tomorrow, and I need you to keep him on a leash because you're going to Yakuza-land for the foreseeable future." He can feel her smile trying to be reassuring pressed against his thoughts. "And you have a meeting scheduled."

"Yeah, about that, one, the only thing I know is 'shakuhachi shite' and 'arigato'," Sombra laughs muttering 'oh god', "and two, he can send them again through the proxy."

"Listen, you don't really want that. And that wasn't even 'fuck off'. That was dirty talk, Jack."

"Figures. I'm..." Jack sighs, massaging his temples. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Earlier, I mean."

"I know."

"I'm just, I don't know, angry? Not with you, you did what you had to, but... It's too much, all of it, and I'm sorry."

"I know. You'll work it out. It's okay."

"Fuck. Thanks, I guess. I'm not thanking for dropping the mongrel on my unsuspecting lap, though."

"You're welcome." She signs off and Jack pulls the plug out.

Even the mere prospect of meeting up with Gabriel after the incident gives him what he can describe only as anxiety. At least, that's what Jack decides to peg it as, something jumbled and all tied up in knots, and self-hating, and making him feel useless.

Nibbling on the third slice of the pizza and watching the sun go down, he knows what it really is, but refuses to give it the proper name. Calling it anything else lets him pretend it's nothing important and go about his life like nothing's different, even if it is - threatening to topple over and crush him under.

When Jesse starts moving, Jack forces him under the shower and his clothes into a washing machine. The thing is done with its load before Jesse is, and he dumps the debatably cleaner garments on the couch - the coyote is looking at him with an expression on its snout that's far too intelligent for his liking, half-mocking, and half-challenging. Jack turns the serape the other way. The coyote, apparently, takes a short hike all around the fabric to end up facing him again, and he could probably get into a trial of persistence with it but has a sneaking suspicion he would lose.

Fuck it. It can stare at him through the back of the couch as he undresses.

Jesse, predictably, ambles out to the shower and straight to the counter to assault the leftover pizza with the zeal of a person starving for days.

"Switch your SIN," Jack instructs him after he catches Jesse's attention with a tactical application of a ballistic shoe.

"What? Why?" Jesse mutters between the mouthfuls.

"We're flying to Japan tomorrow, would be best not to have Yakuza waiting on the ground for you when we get off."

"Why the fuck JIS?"

"Yakuza's probably involved with the fleet Som's tracking."

"They are. Fucking racists."

"You know that?"

"If anything has to do with harm to metas in the region, that's a safe bet it's them." Jesse wipes the oil from his mouth with the back of his hand, and the hand on his stomach. Of-fucking-course. "Say, we gonna be anywhere close to Hanamura?"

Jack sits on the bed, taking off his pants.

"Nowhere close. Everyone knows you there, and you're too recognizable." He stares at Jesse with contempt. "You just broke up with your main ex, you're not getting into another mess with another ex of yours. Don't make me tie you down."

"Nah, that about other business." Jesse stretches and walks around the counter in all his naked glory, stopping when Jack points with definite distaste on his face to the couch.

"You're still wet, the bed's mine, and the dog was giving me attitude."

"Whatever you say, pardner."

Jack cannot blame the sleepless night on Jesse, not directly - he doesn't snore, but maybe his presence has something to do with it. Regardless, his ensuing horrid morning disposition makes Jack snap at Jesse more than once, which Jesse completely ignores, or is simply oblivious to.

After he sends Jesse out with the trash and to wait for the car, Jack gives the flat the last once-over, making sure nothing personal is left lying around - unlikely they'll ever use the safehouse again, but good practice is good practice, and it's best not to tempt the fate.

The trip to the airport is relatively short and eventless, he only has to remind Jesse to switch his SIN once before they board. Jack pushes his bag into the overhead compartment and shuts it with a bang, taking his time before he sits and buckles into the seat.

The moment the plane rolls down the tarmac before takeoff he has to quash down his instincts screaming at him to get up and run. The lurch of wheels losing the contact with the ground below has Jack hunched and holding his head between his hands. Twitching at every suspect sound and tremor of the hull, he has nothing to distract himself with on the flight as his mind runs circles around images of a fiery inferno.

"Dude, have you tried taking something for it?" Jesse tries to start a conversation.

Jack shoots him down with a muttered 'fuck off' before returning to fighting to keep his stomach where it usually is and not in the vicinity of his throat where it battles for space with his now frantic heart. Two hours stretch into an imperceptible eternity of pure torture. Jesse waits for him to regain control of his shaking hands when the plane lands. They disembark among the last of the passengers.

The airport is a reconstructed dream of a crazy architect who, faced with a substantial lack of land, built it floating on water. Jack navigates them through the terminals to the water tram while keeping one eye out for anyone trying to latch onto their trail, hoping they look both intimidating and luckless enough to not attract the attention of any lookouts. It's not his first time in JIS, and, ironically, their best bet is using public transport. Some three years ago, the situation would be different, with the welcoming committee already waiting to bus him to his destination. Now, those bridges were burnt, and the goodwill was gone.

"What's the first rule?"

Jesse scoffs, sprawled on the seat, taking up two spaces realistically, legs kicked up to rest on the back of the seats in front of him to the distaste of the attendant.

"Not gonna risk Yakuza ink, even I'm not that stupid."

Jack stares at him with doubt.

"Except that one time."

"That one was different."

"I'm at loss for words," Jack rolls his eyes. "The second rule?"

"Don't antagonize the local racist shitbags?"

"Yeah, that. And the third?"

"Don't fuck with Yakuza."

"Good one."

"Nah, dude, not gonna go to Hanamura and fuck around, I need to go north later, check out something," Jesse shrugs. "Find someone to talk about that bear spirit because that shit was bad, man, real awful shit."

"I suspect you'll have time to do that. We can go together."

"Nah, no hard feelings, dude, but bear people don't trust that easy."

"Suit yourself," Jack rolls his eyes and nudges Jesse to get up as the tram lines up with the embankment. The taxi that drives them to the hotel rips them off, counting the normal rate several times over. Being foreigners, they are expected to pay more than locals for the same services, and making a scene would only add to the expenses - there's either some notation in the contract that would render any complaint null and void, or the local arm of the law would dismiss it anyway after they had at least ticketed them for creating a disturbance - if not outright put them under arrest on some bullshit charge. Well, Jack's not going to bother with it, it's not his money.

The hotel is one of those ridiculously posh ones, and he and Jesse draw curious glances as they pick up keycards from the reception area.

"Man, that's what I call life," Jesse announces after opening the alcohol cabinet, the first destination he chooses after walking into their shared room. Jack glances at the clock and just like that his heart is back to hammering against his ribs. He leaves his bag on the table.

"I'll be back tomorrow, do nothing stupid while I’m gone."

"Nah, jus’ gonna get stupid drunk and watch some holos."

Jack shrugs and heads out, leaving Jesse to his own devices, hoping he will stay true to his own words and not wander outside, especially not when drunk.

Gabriel's apartment is several floors up and Jack opts for stairs this time. The flight was enough excitement for the day, and the thought of forcing himself into the elevator fills him with revulsion on the spot. Halfway up, he realizes he’s only delaying the inevitable.

The heavy thing settled in his stomach is dread - and maybe, for the first time in his life, his instincts work as they should - screaming at him to run away, no matter where, just away, as he presses the card against the reader and keys in the code. Little late for that, huh? He pushes the door open, wincing at the breach of protocol: so wrapped earlier in his own thoughts he forgot about sending the text. The pad lies in the bag left with Jesse.

"I'm here," Jack announces to the room. His voice falls flat, even to his own ears. Gabriel looks over his shoulder while the screens in front of him flicker off one by one. Fucking dramatic, as usual.

"I can see it."

"I hate flying," Jack scrambles for an excuse - he doesn't need to, but it feels like he does - shrugs noncommittally, holding Gabriel's gaze. The mounting tension in the room seemingly affects only him - some misplaced power struggle Jack loses before it even began - and he breaks away the eye contact, turning away and stepping deeper into the suite. "There has to be a different method to get around."

"It is the most effective one."

The voice sounds too close, following Jack as he sheds his clothes.

"Maybe one that hits the orbit, I heard weightlessness is somewhat like swimming." He can at least give his honest opinion if they're on the subject.

"If the need arises for one."

Yeah, probably any launch of the type is conspicuous and more likely monitored, from the utilitarian point of view only reasonable if the speed is the key. Fuck that.

Jack loses the rest of his garments with the skin on the nape of his neck prickling under the scrutiny. Whether it's imagined or not doesn't matter, it's wrecking his nerves either way.

It's his turn to look over his shoulder, at Gabriel standing some distance away - shifting finally and coming closer to the bed.

"I wasn't aware flight provokes such high levels of stress for you."

Jack bites back the obvious answer - that unless he's bothered to know there's a lot Gabriel doesn't know about him - and the only time he cares to know is when it interferes with the operations. Won't lie to himself about the malice hidden under the thought.

"Now you know."

"Noted."

With Gabriel's thumb raising his chin up and the red and black eyes boring into his own, Jack falls back into the sheets. The sex is great, amazing even - it always is - but there is a certain measure of detachment that prevents him from losing himself in the act.

There's an invisible wall between him and Gabriel, one that wasn't there before, and the more Jack thinks about it curled up on his side, the more he realizes the fault lies with him, and him alone. Things have changed - he has changed - not Gabriel, and neither the arrangement. It's just a business transaction.

Trying to untangle the jumbled knot inside is like picking at an itching scab, only to discover there's pus underneath and nothing's healing. And it won't heal, not when Jack cannot pretend anymore he doesn't care, no matter how much he wants to. If that's what love is, it's a fucking miserable thing he wouldn't wish on anyone; he wonders if his past self also felt the same and he's merely stuck in following a preset rut. After all, the world is a cycle, isn't it?

Wanting Gabriel gone to let him sleep alone is a new one. So he can wallow in misery and self-pity in peace without the subject of his one-sided affection at his back.

Yeah. Love's an absolute utter bullshit, that's what Jack tells himself, staring at his own reflection in the still surface of the lake, fingers trailing in the water. The weathered wooden planks, blackened with tar, are far from the most pleasant to lie on - but the sun bearing down on his skin feels good and allays the discomfort.

The ripples born from his hand idly moving distort his reflection until Jack cannot recognize it anymore as his. And it isn't his, it's something else looking back at him from below the surface. Before he has time to react clawed fingers wrap around his wrist. The shining scales fading in and out of the skin glitter in the light with each minute shift.

It yanks him down with surprising strength

His skin scrapes on the wood - the water is cold - so cold - his lungs hurt with the lack of oxygen when he frees himself from the grip pulling him down - but the safety is far away - too far - and hungry mouths filled with sharp teeth latch onto his flesh.

He drowns.

The ending is the same, it's the rest of the dream that changes.

Lying cradled against Gabriel's side, with the arm wrapped around his waist and the palm resting on his stomach, Jack remains still, trying to wrest his thundering heart under control. Why he even bothers to remains a mystery because there is no viable way Gabriel isn't aware he's wide awake. What's left for Jack is to enjoy the rare closeness, something he's hard-pressed to; the satisfaction eludes him nonetheless while he watches Gabriel work. The screens close and reappear, once or twice prompted by the hand gesturing at them.

Jack tries to focus on the simple sensations: the warmth of the skin, the smell of the ocean, the lingering touch, but soon, it becomes unbearable, this picking at the open aching wound.

He moves away - the arm around his waist slackens and lets him go - and he sits up, disentangling himself from the sheets. Gabriel's attention remains focused on the screens, and Jack struggles for something to say.

"I'm going to take a shower," he mutters in the end, sliding off the bed.

The oppressive feeling of being observed and considered fades after the bathroom door closes behind him.

Of course, the whole room is done in subdued pink - salmon? - with elaborate cherry motifs running unbroken all around the walls with slight hints of darker colors. It's probably pretty and charming, and not at all tacky and lacking any real character or individual touch. Hotels always were like that.

The bathtub looks inviting, and Jack knows he could stay here for days by himself, but the reasons he's loath to are twofold. Jesse definitely constitutes one, the other one being the place that will make him think about Gabriel, and Gabriel only, the distractions available superficial.

Jack steps into the shower and, standing under the rain of warm water, he presses his forehead to the cold tiles. The voice inside his head provides him with an incessant background chant of 'you broke it' until he can't bear it anymore and punches the wall in frustration. The tiles crack.

He has no idea how long he's been in the bathroom - but Gabriel is gone when he walks out.

The pillbox lies on the pillow almost like an afterthought. Jack puts it in his pocket after gathering all his things.

He opts for the stairs again.

What he's not prepared for is Jesse scrambling to look at him over the back of the chair as he enters their room. Jack raises eyebrows at him.

"Shit! Dude. You're, like, glowing, but look like a kicked dog, but seriously," Jesse blindly reaches back behind himself for the open can of beer sitting on the small table, "you're bending the whole flow around you!"

"The what?" Jack notes the smell of cigars in the air, laced with something else, acrid and heady.

"Mana." Jesse sips from the can. "You got a fuckton of magic on you, like, a lot."

"Great. There's to hoping it won't kill me." Jack throws the jacket on the couch, sits in the other chair next to Jesse, and helps himself to the unopened can standing in the middle of empty ones.

"Don't think so, if it's bad, you'd be, like, dead ten times over, what with the potency. No spirit, for sure."

"Great. I feel nothing."

At least now, he had the explanation for Gabriel's clothes trick. Jack opens the can and downs half of it in one go.

"Offense meant, dude, but you got the sensitivity of a low-flying brick, and that means the only sensitivity you got is in the poor dude you're gonna brain."

"Thanks, I guess." Jack chuckles, toasting Jesse with a flourish. "Tell me," he vaguely points at himself, "if it does something weird."

"Will do. Wanna anything stronger with that?"

"That's what stinks in here?"

Jesse looks at him with his eyes pinched.

"Maybe."

"Pass, don't want to fuck up my lungs any more than they already are."

"Dude. You can breathe water, lil bit of smoke not gonna fuck them up."

"Still a pass." Jack finishes the beer and finds another can. "As long as it's not something you can be busted for, go ahead yourself."

Jesse snorts, apparently amused by his comment.

"It's all natural. Like, herbs and shrooms." To illustrate, he picks up a small baggie containing flaky brown fragments. "I smoke 'em, but go as well on the tongue."

This is a terrible idea. And Jack's tempted.

"No," he answers with a delay. "Especially if that's what gave you the mutt, might be contagious."

"Suit yourself." Jesse pulls out a cigar from his pocket and lights it, puffs on it lightly. Jack leaves it without a comment while flipping through the channels on the holo. They're both left with nothing to do for the foreseeable time. Jesse is more than content to spend the days idling: doing nothing but smoking, drinking, and watching tv, but Jack ventures out twice. He gives up on the whole idea of spending time outside of the hotel room soon.

He had forgotten how bland and hostile the whole of the JIS is to him despite the colors and the flashing lights, the music, and the chatter that never stops, or the cities that never sleep. It's a sea of humans only, maybe one or two occasional elves, almost no other metas, which serves to remind Jack that outside of the metropolis it's even worse.

Finding a place to drink and eat he's let in, not to mention not being faced with outright disdain when it becomes obvious he doesn't speak a speck of the language, is too bothersome.

Being confined to the hotel is not the worst thing in the world, Jack decides, not with his surprisingly stable mood, and the fact he's not fixating on the whole situation with Gabriel - only sometimes - and earthly mundane distractions are forthcoming. The majority of it, he thinks, is easily attributed to whatever Jesse's smoking the copious amounts of, and he himself is probably getting high on the fumes by the virtue of widely understood osmosis. Or ingestion. Call it what you will, it works wonders.

The idyll of the carefree quiescence ends with a dream in equal measure disturbingly different, and uncomfortably concordant. His feet are in the water - the waves wash up to his knees. He can feel every grain of sand on his skin: pressing in, irritating, ignored.

Pleasant warmth spills deep to his core, radiates from the bodies pressed to his sides - there's one hand slung over his chest - another carelessly pushes the elbow into his stomach - Jack shifts to remove the discomfort, and as he does so, he senses everyone else moving too. Like dominoes, every change of position prompts a chain reaction following down the line.

Lulled into half-sleep, this strange place in-between lucidity and unconsciousness, his eyes remain closed even with a familiar weight pressing down into almost the entire length of his body.

Something cold tickles his face and Jack finally looks up, at the silhouette cut starkly in the expanse of the pale blue sky, Gabriel's long wet hair brushing against his nose and cheeks, droplets of cool water splashing on heated skin giving him goosebumps.

Jack lifts his arms up. His fingers lock behind Gabriel's neck as he's spread open on the sand, a strange kind of pride bursting in his chest with each bite that draws blood from his skin. Nothing else exists or bears any importance but this one singular snapshot of time dredged from god knows where.

Jack freezes with his eyes wide open, his fingers almost breaking the surface of the water. The sensations - all so very specific and precise, unlike the vague suggestions of the usual dreamscapes - the sand scratching his arms and legs, and the back, the irritation lingering even now. The synthskin, even the kind slapped on his limbs, is never good enough to allow for the definition of the input and the interpretation on the level of the natural skin.

Dredged up. His own thought.

There's a sinking feeling, a frightening idea, that it's a memory. And it's not his. Jack schools his breathing; the jealousy at the effortless intimacy mixed with the shame of being an unwilling observer of someone else's intimate life swirl under his tongue. Or it's all jealousy. And spite. He grips the edges of the bathtub and pulls himself upright.

At the clinking and shuffling from the side, Jack turns his head to see Jesse tucking himself into his pants and buckling his belt.

"Christ, dude, you scared the piss outta me, like, for real."

Jack shows him the finger.

"How does your skin stay on, anyway?"

"It's just what it does? It's only fingers that do this dehydration thing."

"I don't mean that, and don't do this 'rise from the watery grave' shtick when I'm trying to take a leak," Jesse rolls his eyes, a gesture he's so fond of. "Almost pissed all over the wall."

"That's a 'you' problem, not a 'me' problem," Jack mutters, heaving himself upright and snatching a towel off the rack. He wraps it around himself while stepping out of the bathtub.

"Would be a 'you' problem if I'd turned around when you did the 'I live' routine."

Jack snorts, giving Jesse an appraising look supposed to convey his opinion on the subject matter, and moves to the main room - dripping water everywhere - where he sinks into his usual chair.

"By the way, I got my stuff arranged, so I'll be splitting in the evening later."

Jack acknowledges it with a grunt. With Jesse gone, he will probably be about ready to climb walls with the dearth of things left to do. Or return to drinking alone, which, arguably, is far from anything approximating a healthy coping mechanism.

"And you forgot toes. And the soles."

"Hm?"

"The prune looking thing, the feet do that too." Jesse drops back to the couch and plays with the remote. "That's stuff from the time we were all water monkeys, and so we could grab stuff better in water."

"No bullshit?"

"Nah, real stuff, that's why we like water that much. Some of us, at least, that's, like, where we should be most of the time."

"Cool."

"You're still a freak, though," Jesse salutes before opening a beer he has grabbed earlier from the cooler. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None. But, with the world as it is, isn't the whole evolution argument kind of moot? No-one accounted for the magic, did they?" Jack picks the plate with the remnants of yesterday's late-night snack up from the table and tries to discern if anything on it looks poisonous yet. Fried shrimps appear acceptable, to be honest, though the oil probably is a bit stale, Jack decides.

"Now, here, my dude, my friend, is the heart of the matter all those dudes who say a big man, or a big woman, or whatever in the sky did it don't get they get wrong."

"And that is?"

"And that is that even if that's all a fart of some higher power in the sky, it's still a creation, see? Someone sneezed, stuff crawled outta that sneeze, and the world began, it's still their word, ya know?"

Jack nibbles on the shrimp, deep in thought.

"Let's call that 'the great primordial snot theory' and never mention it again, deal?"

"Deal. Sounded better in my head."

"No," Jack lets out a defeated sigh, "you're onto something, but I'm definitely not going into the ramifications of a sneeze being the breath of life."

"But it has a nice ring to it."

"Yeah." Jack focuses on the shrimps, paying only nominal attention to both the show playing in the background and Jesse's mutterings while he slowly gathers his belongings that spread all over the rooms they've shared so far. Later, Jack escorts Jesse to the cab waiting for him, grips his hand for longer than needed when they shake.

"What's the main rule?"

"Don't get inked. Dude, who do you take me for?" Jesse snorts, trying to look offended and failing.

"A moron."

"Fair. Take care."

"You too."

Jesse ducks into his seat in the back of the cab and Jack shuts the door behind him - staying for a moment to see the car speed away from him before he returns to the hotel and for the first time considers the relative wasteland of devastation the room has become. After he pushes everything from the coffee table into a trash bin, he returns to the chair and checks in with Sombra.

"Feeling maudlin, are we?"

Jack shakes his head.

"What gave you the idea? Anyway, you still in Frisco?"

"Yes. Better access points to JIS networks."

"Right. Didn't cross my mind this might be the reason."

"There's good news too. When you get back from your meeting, I'll have a package waiting for you."

The meeting. He's on the last three doses remaining. Anxiety surges up in a sudden spike at the realization. He's been avoiding dwelling on the matter so well he pushed it almost entirely out of his mind.

"A package?"

"Some additional gear we will need to start digging, how to say it, organically."

"Beat people up, you mean."

"Yes," Sombra trails off slowly, a question in the air.

"Go on," Jack urges her, and after a lengthy pause, she continues.

"You never told me you only have nightmares."

"I have other dreams too." He's pretty sure of it, especially after the last one.

"Jack. Every time you enter the REM phase, you have repetitive patterns of stress. Listen," Sombra sighs, probably reading his silence the wrong way, "I wasn't... keen on sifting through all your data, I don't like infringing on your privacy more than I have to, but Gabe insisted on it, and it could've been avoided if you had talked about having problems."

"They're not really problems, though."

He can almost hear her mentally counting down.

"You consistently downplay your pain levels, you don't dream save for reliving the trauma you'd suffered, and, Jack, I tried simulating your brain activity, I clocked out after three minutes."

"I'm used to it."

"That's the thing, you shouldn't be used to it, it's not normal," Sombra huffs, and Jack's sure she's throwing things right now wherever she's physically at by now. "I'm angry with you, we'll talk tomorrow when you get the package, and I'll be less angry."

She disconnects without prior warning, leaving him alone. But that's the thing about pain, you become numb to some of it, Jack thinks, until it becomes just the background radiation of your life.

He takes a quick shower and finds a clean set of clothes to change into.

This time, Jack remembers about keeping the pad on his person, and sends the text as he climbs the stairs yet again, somewhat amazed at how three whole weeks have passed unnoticeably with Jesse there to keep him occupied - he's not going to lie, he's going to miss the bugger. Not the conversations, per se, but rather, the general awareness of his presence. Even if everyone is living their own separate lives outside of the operations, getting together is not so bad, after all.

Jack stops at the doors to the same suite as before. The code is unchanged. A few calming breaths and he walks in.

That's the thing about the constant pain, it doesn't disappear, it just numbs you down - it's a sort of resigned weary acceptance to his situation that leaves a dull ache in its wake, nothing earth-shattering anymore, but it's still there. The half-smile Jack musters at the sight of Gabriel observing him is surprisingly genuine, even to him himself. He can, and will, deal with it. His problem, not anyone else's.

"Long time no see," Jack quips at the inquisitive rise of Gabriel's eyebrow. "Hi, and all that jazz."

He doesn't expect an answer. There is none, save for Gabriel stepping closer, and Jack throws his hands around his neck while his heart flips in his chest - constricts into a singular point of fear and doubt - the touch on his hip giving him something - anything - to grab onto. Grounding, as is the finger raising his chin.

The red and black eyes regard him with moderate interest - observe and scrutinize - pass the judgment on him; Jack leans in against the instinct telling him for once to run and hide from the apex predator before him. But, has he ever listened to it when it urged him to do anything but fight? Not that he can recall such an incident.

In a small act of defiance, Jack catches Gabriel's lip between his teeth, scrapes the tip of a canine on the fragile skin on the inside, hard enough to draw blood. He waits with the bated breath for the reaction, taken aback by a sparkle of what could be amusement in Gabriel's posture, and the kiss, now tinged with the metallic aftertaste, deepening, becoming more forceful, his body pulled flush against Gabriel's, a hand on the nape of his neck.

Jack stumbles over his own feet while being led to the bedroom, lost in the kiss until the backs of his shins hit the edge of the bed, and with a gasp of surprise he lies on the covers - almost falling but also held and lowered - peeled out of his garments, and out of control. Having Gabriel's attention focused on him - and only him - makes Jack's head spin each and every time, regardless of the circumstances; a near-religious experience if he ever had to put a name to it, not unlike the moment the drifting dragon gazed at him - and through him.

He wanders back to the dream - the memory - of the beach, of the coarse sand biting into his skin; Gabriel's locks that have slipped from the low ponytail tickle his cheeks and nose as his fingers dig into Gabriel's shoulders, trying to find a way to bring him even closer. Maybe even to leave a mark - a sign of permanence - something that cannot be denied sunk beneath Gabriel's skin in a desperate attempt to put his claim on him before Jack dissolves in the smell and the taste of the ocean rushing over him, the whirling current pulling him down.

But this is what Jack knows: he is not willing to give this up, this bittersweet torture. It doesn't come as a sudden realization, more like a long-standing knowledge now unburied and close to the surface, driven home with the weight of the moisture hanging on his eyelashes. He reaches out and finds Gabriel's palm, twines their fingers together - always amazed at the contrast and the faint dark red lines following intricate patterns melting into the color of Gabriel's skin - pulls it close to his chest, its back pressing against his heart. Covers both their palms with his other hand and curls around it.

No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it will hurt, he's not going to give this up because the alternative is far worse, it's being abandoned and empty, and lost, and having nothing but that deep-seated ache.

Like this, he can at least pretend, Jack muses, slowly drifting off.

The first time he wakes up, it is to the darkness of the night and fingers combing slowly through his hair, Gabriel's hand still held close.

The next time he opens his eyes, it's morning, and he's alone in the suite – the pillbox waits on the pillow.

[killian-whump]

OUAT 3x01: Rewatch Blog

Welcome aboard, mateys! It's time to start rewatching Season 3! As usual, I'm a bit behind everyone else on this rewatch, but I've decided it's more fun for me to move at my own pace, so I probably won't be catching up anytime soon ;)

That said... Let's get started on Once Upon a Time Season 3!!!

Whoa. Wait a minute. Eleven Years Ago?! I really AM behind... ;)

Seriously, though. Do they really have to handcuff her ankle to the bed? Do they have a problem with women in labor jumping up and escaping prison right at that precise moment in their lives?

That's sad, though :(

Ooooh... I love the deadly stillness after the ship "lands" in Neverland. It's so... eeeeeeeerie. 

Ahhh, and the ominous look on Killian's face.

You can just FEEL the tension in the air.

"Aye. Neverland."

AHHHHHHHH TENSION AND ANGST

Kinda lame title card, haha.

Aw, great. It's this guy. NOBODY MISSED YOU GREG. YOU CAN GO BACK TO WHEREVER YOU WENT DURING THE HIATUS NOW.

SHIT. HE BROUGHT TAMARA, TOO.

I really hate these two, guys. Like, really.

Oh, come on. Don't shove a fucking kid, you asshat. Fucking GREG. You're an insult to your name, and I don't even like your name.

Oooooh, spooky noises. I love the atmosphere they built for this realm.

"Who we work for is not your concern, kid." Well, according to YOU as of about 20 minutes ago in show time, it's not YOUR concern either, dipshit.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THERE'S SAND IN YOUR BATTERY COMPARTMENT, YOU FUCKING MORON. WHO PUT SAND IN YOUR BATTERY COMPARTMENT, HUH? YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

Shut up, shut up. I know it was Peter Pan. LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT.

"It's a good thing you guys don't ask any questions." Hahahaha, bested by an 11-year-old and sand.

...and there he goes, shoving the damn kid again. You're just a colossal jerk, aren't you, Greg?

At least Tamara has the sense to look mildly concerned right here.

"Oh, I know, my hot-headed queen."

I JUST DIED. Forward my mail to my gravesite.

I totally forgot that line ever happened. I love rewatching this show.

"I hope not, or we've wasted our lives." AAAAAAANGST

"Your lives... well... THEY'VE SUCKED" hahaha, Why don’t you tell them what you really think, Emma XD

"We found you." Awww... "And lost Henry! And Neal!" Well, to be fair, it's not like you can expect them to give two shits about Neal. They met him, like, last week. And he's kinda a dick. And his Dad's, like, evil incarnate. But okay.

"Oh, that's a great use of our time: A wardrobe change." One of the best lines ever, really.

I mean, did Rumple really need to do the dramatic cane-spinning exit, though? It makes for good TV, so it's cool and all, but imagine it in real life. Like, just a boat full of people staring at where he once stood, thinking, "JFC That was unnecessarily dramatic."

OH, YEAH, LET'S LIGHT A FUCKING FIRE, GREG. THAT'S A GREAT FUCKING IDEA, GREG. Fucking loser.

Yes, I do plan on doing this until he dies. You have your hobbies; I have mine.

"You making S'Mores?"

HAAAAAAHHAHAHAHA OMG LOOK AT HIS FACE:

Fucking goon. Haha. I named that screencap "assface" when I saved it, because I feel it's fitting for both the character AND the face he's making.

"What if the empty communicator wasn't an accident?"

You mean the one someone OBVIOUSLY filled with sand instead of batteries ON PURPOSE??? Noooooooooooo.

"Don't let the kid get in your head." He's not even TRYING, Greg. He's just hungry and wants some fucking S'Mores. I want some S'Mores, too. We all want fucking S'Mores. S'Mores are delicious, FuckingGreg.

OH LOOK, IT'S FELIX.

AND ALL THE REST OF THE LOST BOYS ONES BOYS. I think we’re calling them “Boys” now. Must have gotten the rights.

Kill him, Felix. Somebody. Anybody. I'll even settle for the annoying Lost Boy with the face that annoys me, although I don't think he's in this season, but he's welcome to join it IF HE KILLS GREG.

"Then you're not getting the boy." Oh, Greg. It is entirely too late for you to do anything remotely likable now. Like, I literally want to throw Henry at them now just to spite you.

YEEEEESSSSSSSSSS RIP THAT MOTHERFUCKER'S SOUL OUT OF HIS BODY. TAKE HIS SPINE, TOO. THE ENTIRE SKELETAL SYSTEM. MAYBE A DISEMBOWELING'S CALLED FOR HERE?

Or, you know, you can just leave his husk there by the fire to rot away. That's good, too. I'm not picky.

GREG IS DEAD, EVERYBODY.

Tamara and Henry are running! Oh no! Will they make it? Will they-

This is a great scene, everybody. Thank you so much. This is the best thing to ever happen to me and the season only started 10 minutes ago.

Hahaha, they even show us a close-up of Tamara lying motionless on the ground, and then Greg. Like they KNOW we've all been waiting for their demise and they wanted to give us screenshots for our scrapbooks.

Anyway, thanks Felix! That was pretty cool. Much obliged.

Hey, look. An enterprising young chap has helped Henry up. There's no way he could be a bad guy.

I have to say, of all the "twists" in Once, this was one of the worst ones in terms of how OBVIOUS it was.

To some extent, it's the casting department's fault, because Robbie Kay is just TOO fucking perfect for Peter Pan. Like, he just EXUDES Peter Pan and he's not fooling anybody.

Heeheehee CS flirting <3

"What do you want?" All due respect, but it's HIS fucking ship? Like, he doesn't really need a reason to be below deck on his own ship?

"I didn't realize you were sentimental." "I'm not."

I love it when he spits the cork out, but how many corks does this man go through?!

Oh, look. Speak of the devil - It's Neal.

"Tell Emma I'm alive. And I love her."

Well, that's a GREAT message to pass on through your kiiiiiid. Won't get his hopes up or anything.

ANYWAY.

"Long enough to know I miss him, too." T_T

UH OH. TROUBLE'S AFOOT!!!

Oh, Dave and Snow are at the helm. That explains it. LEARN HOW TO DRIVE, SNOWING. Gosh.

Pun intended. I'm so sorry.

Regina: "What the hell are you two doing?!" Ahahahahaha :D

"Prepare for attack!" "Be more specific!" I love all these interactions. This is like the WORST family vacation EVER and I love every second of it.

"What's out there? A shark? A whale?" "A kraken?"

YOU FUCKING WISH.

Actually, no, Dave probably doesn't wish... but Kraken-san does! :D

Emma's response is classic. "Mermaids?!" Like what the fuck else does she have to put up with in this crazy sham of a life NOOOOW?

Dave's kinda hot manning that cannon, I gotta say. He's showing off some guns firing off that gun, if you know what I mean.

But really, what did they plan to DO with one mermaid, anyway? Especially after Regina chased them all off with her fireballs?

Oh, look. Henry and Totally-Not-Peter-Pan are on the run!

I'm super fooled by him talking himself up in third person, though XD

"If Pan wants you... he WILL get you."

"Pan will rip their shadows into oblivion."

"Pan loves nachos with spicy cheese."

"Pan is the awesomest guy on this island."

Aw, man. This scene is a snoozefest :/

Literally. They're all just watching Aurora sleep XD

Wait. HOW is Neal feeling better? He got shot, like, 10 minutes ago in show time and he's had no REAL medical care, aside from whatever they bandaged him with, since none of these folks here have magic.

HOW IS HE FEELING BETTER?!

I gotta be honest, though. Rumple is hot as SHIT in this season. I ain't gonna pretend otherwise. This leather clad badass thing WORKS for him.

Oh, look. Tamara's still alive.

"C-Can you forgive me?"

I'm gonna guess that is a HARD ASS NO, bitch.

Haha, love the way he flicks the dust off his fingers.

"GET THAT THING OFF MY SHIP!"

I love how panicked he is by the mermaid XD It gives my entire life meaning :D

I wish we had more information in canon about Hook's time in Neverland. We can tell this is FAR from his first skirmish with mermaids, but how/when/why/what happened? I NEED TO KNOW! Especially if it involved wounds or peril or other things relevant to my interests...

Touching Mulan and Neal chat.

More running in the woods with Not!Pan.

"Well, I'm all out of fish food." Love you, Regina <3

"Fillet the bitch." Seriously, love you so much bae <3

Snow's face, tho XD

This is 110% why I watch this show. SHENANIGANS.

...and a pirate. Don't forget the pirate.

"I've outrun many a storm!" We know you have, babe. We know. You keep telling us...

SHAMPOO COMMERCIAL TIME!!!

PERIL ON THE HIGH SEAS!!!

CERTAIN BLETH DEATH!!!

SUPER DRAMATIC MUSIC!!!

...as we cut to a peaceful, though somewhat dilapidated, castle in the Enchanted Forest. Birds are singing, dawn is breaking, the world is alight with hope and possibili-

JUST KIDDING. GET BACK TO THE FUCKING DRAMA STORM, SHOW.

I hate it when they do this.

Hey, Sean. Nice intro.

"You don't want to see ID?" Neal... ISTFG.

Disappearing arrow, heehee. SHENANIGANS.

I love how interested Robin is in what's inside the vault XD Always a thief, eh?

"This isn't a storm. It's bloody damnation!" Love that line <3

"Let the slags go!" Haha "Don't call my wife a slag!" Haha!

BOY FIGHT!! BOY FIGHT!!!

They're all wet, too! Slow down, cameraman! I wanna see ALL of this!!!

Oooh, almost gutted with his own hook. Haaaaarsh.

Emma, no one's listening to you. Emma, no one's... They're not... They're not even looking or paying any attention at all... They won't even- Oh. Okay. Somehow everyone saw you jump, despite literally being in a fight for their respective lives. Neat.

...aaaaaaand cue the convenient rigging falling loose and hitting her in the head.

SHENANIGAAAAAAAAANS

Oh, look! They're flying!!!

This would be super touching if it wasn't, you know, exactly what Pan wants XD

Haha, Emma looks so ethereal floating there, unconscious, in the waters of Neverland, facing certain death.

Awww! A big group effort rescue!!! Good job, team!

"Told you." Right, but no one was listening...? So how do they even know what she's talking about? Well, I guess maybe they WERE listening...?

Shenanigans? idek anymore...

SHENANIGANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Awww... Bobby's acting is so great right here. This is awesome. Very moving. The part after the shenanigans, I mean. Although they’re great, too.

Felix, you're kinda a dick, though. That’s kinda a compliment, tho?

I love it when magic flops :D Dramatic music aaaaaand... nothing.

"Actually, I quite fancy you from time to time, when you're not yelling at me."

You like her even more when she's yelling at you, son. IT IS KNOWN.

His offended face when Charming says, "With him?" XD DAVE, WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS ABOUT ME. DAVE, I THOUGHT WE WERE PALS. DAVE. DAAAAVE.

Hahaha, his adorable shrug to Regina. SHENANIGANS <3

"You couldn't be more right, Henry."

I'm so glad they didn't try to drag out the reveal of Pan to another episode, because he seriously wasn't fooling aaaaaanybody.

Except for Henry. Oops?

It's so great how ominous they're being at the end of this episode, advancing on Henry like that...

Although Pan's "let's play!" is a lot less frightening when you know he literally means "let's dance around a fire and create a rhythmic ruckus" but hey. It still works for the ending of this episode, which is now... OVER!!

PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!! PEW PEW PEW!!!

[savetheblackpaladin]

could we get some shiro hc for when he's proposing to his s/o?? like what he's feeling, how he'll do it etc some fluffy feels are much appreciated

I’m crying rn bc I got to imagine Shiro proposing, thank you so much for this gift! Also, this is quite long because Shiro has a master plan and it involves everyone.

Shiro is a determined man, the moment he decided he wanted tomarry you it was all he could think about. And when Shiro sets out to dosomething, he does it right·         

He shows up to your room the night before and tells you thateveryone has the day off tomorrow since they’re going to be orbiting near aswap moon and he wants to take you out.

but he’s nervous

“I-if you want, we could go on a date? Like a real, real date??……Not that our other dates aren’t real dates! Of course they’re real But, uh, would you like to go on a fancy one? With me? …Your…boyfriend….??”

He’s blushing and looking very much like he would rather curl up and hide and it makes you laugh. You agree to go on a date (of course, you’ve been dating forever) and settle on an afternoon date, giving you time to hang out with the other paladins.

and to find a nice outfit bc you two never get to go anywhere nice and goddammit you are going to wear something other than the pants and t-shirt you were stolen with

You spend the next morning with Lance, who for some reason isdetermined to have a spa day with just the two of you. He’s like really adamantabout.

“I need a buddy, Y/N! Pidge and Keith don’t even know spas exist!”

“Ok, but what about Hunk? Or Allura?” You chide, removing Lance’s long limbs from your neck.

“Allura is flawless and I can’t believe you would even suggest that. And Hunk is super ticklish and the last time he got a pedicure he nearly kicked the girl in the face. I almost got kicked out of my favorite salon!”

You were giving him a hard time but hell yeah, spa day!! It was great, you got massaged, you got steamed, your skin was perfected (crazy aliens man) and the lovely ladies managed to get your hair so soft that you couldn’t stop touching it.

Everyone met for lunch,except Shiro. You pouted but Keith assured you he was just occupied withplanning for your date

You spent the afternoonwith Allura, picking out shiny things and trying to find the perfect outfit

You can’t help but think that she knows something about your date that you don’t because she keeps making comments about your outfits that just don’t fit for the situation

“No, not that one. You want this to be memorable!”

“This is an important night in your life, and you want to wear that? I do not think so.”

“*sigh* Not that one. It won’t match.” Match what, Allura? Match WHAT???

“This one! It will make sure Shiro holds on you to. And never let’s go.” Her wink at the end of that one weirds you out. Did she mean to do that?

She’s right though. It’s a simple dress that drapes over your body like you’re a Grecian goddess and it moves and looks like smoke. It may not be your usual thing (or maybe it is) but you love it.

You happen to not see Hunk, Pidge, Keith or Coran for the restof the day, which is strange since you see them every day and you kind of missthem.

You don’t see Shiro at all until he knocks on your door thatnight.His eyes light up when they see you and he just gazes at you before hefinally lets out a nervous chuckle and rubs the back of his neck. “Y-youlook beautiful, Y/N. I mean - You always look beautiful, but wooooow. Just,wow.”

He takes your hand, gives it a kiss, and twirls you around once to get a 360 degree view. He whistles and twirls you again, making you laugh as he finally draws you in for a warm hug and a gentle kiss.

He’s wearing a simple grey long-sleeve button up with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks. Simple, but with his hair slicked back he looks like some sort of corporate CEO and it’s kind of hot

You two walk hand in hand to the Black Lion’s bay. You arch your eyebrows questioningly and Shiro tells you that you two need to travel for a bit but don’t worry, there’s a wormhole involved so it won’t take long

you allow Shiro to blindfold you before entering Black

“I want where we’re going to be a surprise. And I know you well enough to know you can’t resist a peek if I don’t blindfold you.” Damn him

Feeling Black take off and go through a wormhole can best be described as: Fucking Terrifying. Since you’re blindfolded, you’re aware of every slight turn, bump, and movement of the metal beast around you and you become acutely aware of how tiny you are. Luckily, Shiro notices your near panic attack and reaches over to hold your hand. You notice he’s shaky too and his palms are a bit sweaty but he caresses the back of your hand like nothing is wrong and you immediately begin to calm down.

When you finally land (a soft landing you note) Shiro carefully steers you out of Black and down the ramp with gentle hands on your waist

you can feel sand under your feet and can hear waves

it’s a little warm and you’re thankful for a dress that breathes. You vaguely wonder if Shiro will unbutton his shirt, because that would be great

When he removes your blindfold you are startled by what you see

a violet sky with two pale orange moons and a glittering belt of starts

a deep purple lake so large it has waves that crash along a black shore 

 and you seem to be in a crater surrounded by vibrant green mountains and silver trees and the soft breeze smells faintly of cinnamon

You turn around to tell Shiro how beautiful this place is and you see him kneeling on one knee in the sand. He’s blushing and clearly nervous and you feel yourself swallowing hard because there is only one reason why Shiro would be in that position

He clears his throat, taking a deep breath before steeling himself for what’s to come.

“Y/N, my beautiful Y/N. I’ve had a lot happen to me in my twenty-five years of life. I’ve gotten top grades throughout high school, a full-ride scholarship to the garrison, became the best fighter pilot in my class, and I’ve adopted a little brother. I’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and forced to become not only an arena fighter, but a defender of the universe and the leader of a amazing team of teenagers that can still somehow pilot the universe’s greatest weapon. But absolutely none of that compares to you. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me. Y-you’ve accepted me for what I was, what I’ve become, and still everyday you push me to be a better person. I-I still have nightmares about the Galra, terrible nightmares that leave me broken b-but with you…I’m no longer afraid. With you at my side, Y/N, I can do anything, save everything, and overcome any obstacle in my way…..Y/N? Will you do me the honor of being my wi-ife?”

his voice cracks on his last word as he opens the small box in his hand, and you can barely make out a simple silver ring inlaid with a small amethyst, diamond, and your birthstone through your tears (and Shiro’s shaking hand)

You can’t speak. You can’t think. It’s all you can do to just fling yourself around Shiro’s neck and chant “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over again while peppering his face in kisses

He’s sobbing right with you, holding you tight to him and smiling, accepting every kiss

After a few moments of sobbing, Shiro finally slides the ring onto your finger and it looks so perfect you start crying again and he does his best to wipe your tears away, and kissing your cheeks while murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over

when you two pull away Shiro just stares in awe at his ring on your finger

he hoped you would say yes and now that you have he almost can’t believe it

He kisses the ring and murmurs under his breath, “You’re my fiancee.” A moment of silence before he scoffs and repeats it again, louder this time, “You’re my fiancee! You’re going to be my wife!” He looks like a little kid, he’s so excited.

He really can’t get over it and for the rest of the night he just keeps looking at you like you’re a gift from the universe itself, and maybe you are.

You two spend a few hours stargazing on a blanket, identifying new constellations, creating stories for them, and otherwise just enjoying each others company

wine is involved (thank you Coran, you gorgeous man)

occasionally you hold your hand up so you two can admire the ring

and you both really enjoy using the word fiancee in every possible way.

you only return when you start to complain to Shiro that you’re hungry

Here’s what you don’t know:

Determined to make you have a wonderful day, Shiro asks Lance to treat you to some sort of self-care. He was thinking just a massage but Lance knows how to treat a girl right.

Shiro also asked Allura for her blessing and if she would officiate the wedding since back on Earth ship captains can do that. She agrees, on the condition that she dresses you both. She chose Shiro’s outfit earlier in the day.

Shiro is eternally grateful for that because he might be panicking now and probably would have just worn what he usually does

Coran and Pidge made the ring. Shiro doesn’t ask how, just only accepted their help when he asked Coran if jewelers exist in space. 

Thanks to Pidge, those are real gemstones. She will never tell how she turned space dust into gemstones.

It was a process that took a long time though. The ring was only finished right before Shiro came to pick you up

He was anxiously pacing the entire afternoon and if you look at his nails you can see where he began absentmindedly chewing them

Hunk and Keith offered to help Shiro make a nice dinner for you two but Shiro was determined to make it himself because “It needs to be made from the heart. I want her to know how serious I am.”

“Yeah, ok, Shiro I’ve tasted your cooking and I’m being generous when I say you are the worst cook on Earth.” Thanks Keith.

Hunk tried. Oh God, did he try. He ended up shoving Shiro out of his kitchen with the promise of a feast when he returned with a fiancee.

Keith was Shiro’s number one confidant and he is so thankful that Keith was there

talking to Keith really gave Shiro the confidence boost he needed. Shiro really just needed to hear someone else say that you would obviously say yes.

Keith’s exact words were: “You two were made for each other Shiro. If I were ever to fall in love with somebody…*sigh* I would want a relationship like yours.”

Shiro cried, he was so touched.

Shiro had one breakdown because he couldn’t find a perfect place to propose and everyone else’s ideas just seem too plain. He ended up going to Black and just ranting and raving about how much he loved you and wanted to do something perfect for you but “Goddammit! I can’t even do this right! How can she love someone so fucking useless?!”

Black activates and picks him up before jumping to space. She’s the one who found the purple planet and Shiro is eternally grateful.

They spent more time together just so Black could comfort him because she may be just a semi-sentient lion, but she knows love when she sees it

Before he came to you room, everyone met him in the main control room to congratulate him and wish him luck

both Pidge and Allura kissed him on the cheek

Hunk got everyone to group hug

Lance told Shiro to treat you right, because you deserved the universe

Keith and Coran basically shoved him out into the hallway so he would stop stalling

When you two come back from the alien planet, there will be banners everywhere congratulating you, confetti, awful Altean music, and a delicious feast

everyone knew you would say yes. Only Shiro had concerns

Speaking of Shiro

he was internally screaming the entire time, convinced you would say no and dump him (thanks anxiety)

he almost backed out a few days ago but Keith managed to convince him to go through with it on pain of death with minimal persuasion

when you said yes it was legit the happiest moment of his life and well worth the like 3 weeks of near panic he was in

~*~If you enjoyed this or any of my other works please consider donating to my Ko-fi or Digital Tip Jar!~*~

[blissfulcastiel]

Get Closer to Me

Fandom Writing Challenge | blissfulcastiel Prompt: Sweat Pairings: Destiel Tags: College au, friends to lovers, confessions, angst/fluff, bed sleeping bag-sharing AO3 ; thank you to my beta-bae @adoringjensen ♥

Cold air brushes across Castiel’s cheeks as the door swings open, hinges creaking their usual protests. He breathes out, a small puff of white briefly appearing before him until it disappears within seconds. Stepping out of the Impala, he glances around the small campsite, finding a small fire pit with the stones in disarray. Other than that, there’s nothing. So Sam wasn’t kidding when he mentioned they’d be ‘roughing it’. Their saving grace is that there are bathrooms down the road.

“Brr, it’s gonna be a cold one,” Jess comments as she gets out of the car next and hugs herself with a small shiver.

“No kidding. Sam, we’re going to freeze our asses off,” Dean grumbles beside him as he steps out next, the door slamming closed behind him.

“You’re the one who changed his mind about coming, Dean. And wasn’t I the one who told you that leather jacket wouldn’t be warm enough?” Sam counters, throwing him a look over the hood of the car. Castiel catches something along the lines of ‘whatever’ under Dean’s breath as he moves towards the trunk to unload their bags.

Sam does pose a good question, though. When he asked Castiel if he wanted to join him and Jess to go hiking, he’d asked if Dean was coming too – not that it would’ve swayed his decision one way or another. Even though he’s been friends with Dean since freshmen year of college and didn’t meet Sam until later, a good friendship formed between them. But when Sam told him Dean ‘had no interest in sleeping on the frozen ground next to a pair of gross lovebirds’, disappointment laid thick over Castiel. He couldn’t tell if Dean truly had no interest in hiking or he just didn’t want to spend more time with Castiel. He’s fearful it’s the latter.

Ever since that party last week, things have been off between them. He was hoping this outing would’ve brought them back together and they can officially get past this… awkwardness. That’s why when Castiel went over to their house so they could leave together for their last minute camping trip, he was surprised to see Dean getting behind the wheel to drive. By the look on Sam’s face, he wasn’t the only one taken aback by Dean’s presence. It begs the question: why did Dean change his mind?

Castiel’s happy Dean did – he’s always happy when Dean’s involved – but so far, they’ve barely spoken two sentences to each other. Just an awkward greeting and an offer from Dean to help Castiel put his bag in the trunk. If that’s any indication to how the rest of the trip’s going to go, this is going to be a long two days.

“You know how to pitch a tent, Cas?” Sam asks, bringing him out of his reverie.

“It’s been awhile,” he admits, following them around to the back of the Impala to help unload their supplies.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you the ropes,” Dean tells him with a grin and a wink as he hauls out one of the tent bags. Castiel snorts at the awful pun. Okay, maybe he was over thinking everything, as per usual. Maybe things with Dean are fine. At least, that’s what he’s desperately trying to convince himself of as he follows Dean to pick out a smooth patch of ground to set up their tent, Sam and Jess settling nearby to do the same.

They work together fine, but there’s really no conversation except for Dean giving Castiel instructions and him asking questions in return when something isn’t going together correctly. Once they have the tent up, Dean leaves him to set up the guy lines as he demonstrated while he goes about making everyone some sandwiches before they hit the trail. Castiel glances over at him occasionally, still feeling unnerved by how he’s supposed to be acting. Working close to Dean wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but… something’s not right. Dean is Castiel’s best friend, and he always knows when there’s a problem. The only difference this time is that he can’t tell if Dean feels this too or if Castiel’s the only one still trying to get past what happened. They still haven’t had that conversation.

Dean glances up, meeting Castiel’s eyes and his mouth twitches as he holds up a hand – along with a slice of cheese – in a half wave. Shit, caught staring. Castiel never used to be embarrassed if Dean caught him staring.  

“You okay, Cas?”

He nods quickly, tearing his gaze away while his chilled cheeks fill with warmth. “Uh – yes. Maybe, um, if you have a second, check my work?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean slap together a completed sandwich, dusting his hands of crumbs, and walks over. Just the presence of Dean standing behind him feels like a heavy weight slowly crushing Castiel. Even worse – Dean leans down, reaching past Castiel to pluck at one of the thin ropes.

“Nice work, Cas. They’ll hold well if we get any crazy ass winds tonight.”

“Thank you,” Castiel murmurs, still very much aware of how close Dean is to him. Dean seems to finally notice the same and he jerks back to his feet, putting space between them. “Lunch is, um, ready.” Castiel listens as Dean walks over to Sam and Jess’ tent, the couple having decided to disappear inside to ‘set up their sleeping bag’.

Over lunch, Sam outlines which trails they’re going on and which natural wonders they want to see, the biggest one being a frozen waterfall. With the route he and Jess make up, it’s set to keep them out the rest of the day and hopefully not too much longer into dusk. With that as a source of motivation, they’re quick to gather their things and set out on their first trail.

Castiel enjoys the outdoors. He finds nature fascinating and relaxing. It’s his time to clear his mind – or let it wander – and feel the peace surround him. This hike, however, is anything but peaceful.

First, there’s the overwhelming presence of Dean walking next to him. Most of the paths are wide enough that they can walk two by two with Sam and Jess leading the way. It’d be pretty damn obvious if Castiel was avoiding Dean by either walking ahead or lagging way behind. Then there’s the known fact that they walk together wherever they go. He hates it because they’re so close. At times, their arms brush together and it leaves Castiel momentarily stunned, instantly thrown back into a time when the room was hot and packed with too many sweaty bodies while the floor vibrated with the music’s heavy bass beneath their feet. A time that might seem hazy from the several shots he’d taken, but he can still very much recall the way Dean’s hand felt brushing against his arm, bodies pressed together from lack of anywhere else to go. He always snaps himself out of the memory before it can progress too far, and keeps walking as if nothing happened.

Second, Dean’s grumbling the whole way. About the cold. About almost slipping on a random frozen puddle. About how ‘this waterfall better be some epic shit for all this effort’. Sam and Jess are too wrapped up in their conversation to hear him, but the little comments are starting to get under Castiel’s skin. Because it still doesn’t make sense. Why did Dean fucking change his mind?

Then there’s the final straw. The moment that convinces Castiel he’s actually in Hell.

They’ve arrived at their final destination, the frozen waterfall, after hiking for hours. Castiel can see why Sam and Jess were so excited to see it. The sight is truly breathtaking. Winter may have just begun, but the cold has already hit them hard and therefore creating the wonder Castiel’s currently staring up at in awe.

It isn’t a huge waterfall by any means. It’s spread wide as it tips over the cliff’s edge above, making it look bigger than it is, but the stream isn’t too intense. Standing under it in the summer would probably be akin to standing in a shower with excellent water pressure. Now, the water’s frozen mid-air, some sections of the waterfall touching all the way to the ground. Behind the distorted icy wall is an alcove that could possibly be considered a small cave, where Sam and Jess are currently exploring. Castiel’s not really sure where Dean went. Maybe he followed after them.

It’s been a fairly gray day, but there have been occasional breaks in the thin layer of clouds that tease the blue sky behind them. Now, with the sun setting behind the cliff, the colors of sunset reflect off the gray while creating a picturesque backdrop beyond the waterfall. Jess, having a love for photography, has been taking pictures along the way and Castiel could easily ask her to take the photo for him, but he decides to see what he can capture on his own.

Stepping back, he pulls off a single glove to fish his phone from his pocket and open the camera app. He holds it up, but he’s too close to get the full view he wants. Step by step, he backs up as more of the cliff fills the screen. It’s too late that he realizes he should probably be paying attention to where he’s walking, because one moment he’s upright, the next his feet are tripping over a rock. He scrambles to regain his footing, but lurches the wrong way and ends up on the small stream created by the waterfall, the frozen water doing no favors in his attempts to right himself. His feet finally slip out from under him, and with his heart in his throat, he braces for impact, praying his head doesn’t land on anything sharp. His fall is stopped by something, though. A tight grip wraps around his arms, and he’s leaning against something soft. He opens his eyes, having squeezed them shut at some point, and looks up to find green eyes staring down at him.

“You should probably watch where you’re going,” Dean tells him.

Castiel breathes out, body slumping against Dean’s while his mind plays catch up. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Can you stand?”

With the help of Dean holding him, he’s able to regain his footing on the ice, but Dean holds on securely while Castiel takes stock of himself. “I think I’m good. Nothing seems to hurt.”

Dean grins at him. “You’re lucky I was here, then.”

Castiel swallows, heart still thudding in his chest, only for different reasons this time. “Um, thank you. I, um, didn’t realize – I thought you were with Sam and Jess.”

Dean shrugs. “Figured they’d want some time alone to be in their nerd heaven. I’m more interested in finding a way to climb this thing and get a vantage point.”

“Any luck?”

“Not without doing some serious climbing or walking around to find a better slope. I don’t know about you, but my fingers and toes are too frozen for all that.”

Castiel chuckles. “I’d have to agree.”

For a moment, they both look at each other and seem to realize that Dean is still holding onto Castiel’s arm. He drops it awkwardly before nodding towards the waterfall. “I, uh, believe you were trying to get your picture?”

Castiel pushes away the emptiness that comes with the loss of Dean’s touch. Those feelings are bad. They’re the reason why the incident happened. They’re the reason a cloud of tension has been hanging over them ever since. He nods before lifting his phone to snap his picture. When he opens it up to check the quality, he’s acutely aware of Dean looking over his shoulder at it.

“Damn, Jess is gonna be jealous someone can take as good a picture as her.”

Castiel snorts, looking up at him. “You’re just saying that.”

“Come on, Cas, I would never…” He trails off suddenly. Something flashes through Dean’s eyes then. Was it doubt? Hurt? Castiel can’t place it before it’s gone, replaced quickly with mischief. “Hey, get a picture of me licking the waterfall.”

Castiel chuckles. “Don’t you need a few shots first to think reckless ideas are good ones?” The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it and the regret is instant. The playfulness of Dean’s face dissipates into guilt and… something else. “Dean, I didn’t mean –“

“It’s fine, Cas. You’re not exactly wrong.”

Before Castiel can try to do some damage control, Sam’s calling to them. “Hey, you guys done looking around? Sun’s going down fast and we should be heading back.”

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean replies gruffly as he walks away from Castiel. He waits a few moments before sighing and following suit. He hadn’t meant to say what he said, but is it not true? Alcohol has a long history of clouding people’s judgments, which happen to include kissing your best friend. Castiel swallows thickly, quickly shoving the memory away before it can fill his mind with images and feelings he shouldn’t be thinking about.

The walk back to camp drones on too long. Dean’s walking ahead of the group while Castiel brings up the rear. He can feel Sam and Jess’ curious gazes glance back at him, but he ignores them. By the time they make it back to camp, it’s pitch black with the exception of their flashlights lighting up the darkness. Sam gets to work building the fire while Dean loads their cooler from the trunk of the Impala. Jess and Castiel set up their chairs around the fire pit and give order to the stones meant to contain the fire. Once Sam gives life to the flames, they all take a moment to thaw their frozen bodies and visit the bathroom before roasting some hot dogs, a classic camping meal according to Dean.

They talk as a group, Sam and Jess taking up most of the conversation as they pass around her camera to view her pictures. Dean and Castiel never speak directly to each other. In fact, Dean won’t even look at him. Not that Castiel is looking much at Dean either. He sneaks quick peeks here and there, but he’s too terrified of what he might see if their eyes meet. His stomach churns and he’s worried he may just be sick. This was never supposed to happen.

So many times, Castiel’s thought about what it would be like to kiss Dean. All sorts of scenarios, all sorts of events. Just about every one of them was more favorable than the drunken make-out session they had. Of course it felt incredible. Castiel still recalls the way Dean’s lips felt against his, how wonderfully soft and smooth they were. The way Dean’s hands gradually slipped around his waist, pulling them even more impossibly close than they already were. His tongue – oh god, his tongue. Like silk, sweetened from the fruity tequila cocktail he’d stolen from Charlie. Castiel swore he could stand there all night, relishing in the way Dean felt and tasted. The kiss – quickly turned plural – was sloppy, but oh, did it make Castiel’s head spin. For a moment, he was convinced he was getting drunker off Dean than the actual alcohol.

At the time, Castiel didn’t care that he’d regret not tearing himself away sooner. In that moment, it was perfect to him. Hindsight is 20/20, though. Now he can see how he lost his chance. His one and only kiss with Dean, and it was wasted at some random party with alcohol being the only reason it happened. Castiel can’t remember how it got initiated, but he’s fairly certain it was all on him. Years of pining mixed with tequila means very little restraint on Castiel’s end.

But aside from the kiss, their friendship. What if they won’t ever be able to get past this? Castiel’s been trying to put it out of his mind, but how can he ever act like he isn’t painfully in love with his best friend after getting a taste of what it’d be like if things were different? Keeping Dean as a friend is more important than some stupid kiss, but how long will he be able to keep up this façade that he’s fine?

“Cas?” He looks up to see Jess looking down at him, eyebrows furrowed. “You okay?”

He blinks a couple times before giving her a smile. “Sorry, I just - Are you and Sam turning in?”

She grins at him. “It’s okay. I know we did a lot of walking today and it’s cold as hell. But yeah, we are. Maybe you should be getting some sleep too?”

Castiel nods, getting to his feet. “Good idea.” He says his goodnights to Sam and Jess before they disappear inside their tent. When they’re gone, he glances to Dean, who’s staring into the fire. “Are you, um…”

Dean doesn’t meet his gaze. “In a few.”

“Okay,” Castiel sighs softly. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas.” The soft way Dean says the words only serve to make Castiel melt and ache all at once. Without sparing another moment, he slips into their tent and zips it up behind him. He quickly sheds all his layers to change into something more comfortable to sleep in – a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt with a hoodie thrown over. Within minutes, he’s tucked into his sleeping bag, watching the shadows created by the flames slowly fade as the fire dies out. It’s then he hears Dean stomp out the remaining embers and starts unzipping the tent. Castiel closes his eyes and is eternally grateful for the dark to hide his horrible attempts at acting. Once Dean is done changing into his own version of pajamas – it’s too hard to see through the dark what he’s wearing – Castiel hears him slip into his sleeping bag.

Then it’s just quiet.

Castiel honestly tries to go to sleep. He really does. But his mind won’t shut off. It won’t stop thinking about Dean and the kiss and everything that’s happened since. It won’t stop thinking about what the future holds for them, whether Castiel should come clean about his feelings or hope the eggshells will eventually clear and he and Dean can be the friends they were before that damn party.

Out in the middle of nowhere, essentially, with the darkness too thick to see much of anything, time is not a concept to Castiel. He has no idea how much of it has passed. An hour? Two hours? Thirty minutes? He could probably sneak a look at his phone, but he doesn’t want to give away that he’s been up this whole time.

He keeps trying to make his eyes shut. Eventually the exhaustion from the hiking and shivering from the cold will wear him out and he’ll have no choice but to pass out. But why won’t it just happen? Probably another twenty minutes passes, if Castiel’s being realistic, and the wind starts to pick up. The tent is doing pretty well at taking the brunt of it, but he can still feel the icy breeze sneak in through the zipper of the entrance and ‘windows’, despite them all being zipped closed. If he wasn’t shivering before, he definitely is now.

There are times when Castiel wishes for endless nights. This is not one of those nights.

Barely withholding a frustrated sigh, he crawls out from his sleeping bag and reaches for his duffle. He packed an extra pair of fuzzy socks to use at night should it get unbearably cold. He feels around for the soft bundle, but comes up with nothing.

“Please, please, please,” he prays softly, this time dragging out all his stuff in hopes the socks will appear. They don’t. And then he remembers. The socks are sitting in his laundry basket, waiting patiently to be packed. “Fuck,” he sighs, sitting back dejectedly. He must’ve forgotten them while he was too busy wallowing over Dean not coming on the trip. Which, as it turned out, was completely pointless.

“Cas?”

He freezes at the sound of Dean’s voice. It takes him a couple seconds to remember to answer. Obviously Dean knows he’s awake now.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Some shifting. “Nah, you didn’t – it’s alright. Is, uh, everything okay?”

Castiel sighs. “Yes. It’s just that I didn’t exactly come as prepared as I intended.”

Dean chuckles, a quiet sound. “Leave it to Sam to want to go camping while it feels like Elsa iced us all over.”

“At least it’s not snowing.”

“Thank god for that. Please promise me you’ll never take me camping in the winter again.”

A smile pulls at Castiel’s lips. He wants to ask why Dean even came in the first place, but the comment gives him some hope. Any talk about the future together is a good sign.

“You have my word. Although, I doubt Sam and Jess will want to have a repeat of this night. I bet they’re just as cold as us.”

Dean snorts. “No way. Those two are definitely sharing a sleeping bag. They’re probably alright.”

“Ah yes, I forgot about the benefits of sharing body heat.”

“If we’re smart, we should do that too.” At first, Castiel doesn’t think he hears him correctly, but then Dean clears his throat. “I mean, um, if you’re really that cold. Survival 101, ya know? I, um, have a double, so there’s room over here.”

“You’d be… okay with that?” Castiel asks slowly.

“Come on, Cas. We’ve kissed before, haven’t we?” He can tell Dean means to say it as a joke, but it comes out almost timid, as if worried Castiel might storm out of the tent at the reminder. If he knows what’s good for him, Castiel would politely decline the offer. There’s no way he’d be able to sleep next to Dean and not slowly die the rest of the night. But right now, Castiel’s freezing and he misses being close to Dean. He hates this space created between them. If this is Dean’s attempt at getting past the tension, then there’s no way Castiel’s going to leave him vulnerable.

“Alright.”

He feels his way over Dean, and it takes some shuffling before they get settled in the sleeping bag. There’s enough room for them to turn over, but close enough that Castiel can feel Dean’s breath tickle his face. They lay in silence, but it’s oddly not awkward. There’s just a sense of ease being this close to Dean. They’re able to do this. Coexist in silence and not feel the need to fill it. Until a question blurts out of Castiel’s mouth before he can stop it.

“Why did you change your mind?”

Dean doesn’t answer. Not right away, at least.

“I still think about that kiss.” It’s barely a whisper. “I… Fuck, I know I shouldn’t be saying this right now but - I think about that kiss too fucking much.”

Wait… What?

“And I know we were drunk. I know it meant nothing, but dammit Cas, I – I can’t forget it.”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts, his head spinning. He can’t be really saying what Castiel thinks he’s saying. But there’s one thing that Castiel wants to make perfectly clearly. “It wasn’t meaningless to me.”

“It… It wasn’t?”

Castiel huffs a soft, humorless laugh. Well, if they’re going down this road, might as well see what’s at the end. “Not in the slightest. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to…”

A pause. “Do you really mean that, Cas?”

Castiel nips at his lip. He’s thankful for the darkness because a blush is burning hot on his face, but damn if he isn’t dying to see exactly what’s showing in Dean’s eyes right now. “Of course. I – I’m sorry it had to come out this way but… how could I not develop feelings for you, Dean? You… you mean too much.”

As if set off on a trigger, the warmth on Castiel’s side disappears and suddenly there’s a weight settled on top of his body while lips dip down to meet his. Castiel’s breath hitches in his throat and it takes a moment for his brain to figure out what the hell is happening. When it finally does a heartbeat later, Castiel’s frozen fingers tangle themselves in the fabric of what feels like one of Dean’s Henley’s and he returns the kiss. It doesn’t last more than a couple seconds before Dean pulls back enough to whisper clearly against his lips.

“So long, Cas.” Another soft kiss. “So long I’ve wanted to tell you. I should’ve, but – dammit, I had no idea how. You’re my best friend and I didn’t…“

Castiel grins in the dark, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth. “I think we both shared the same thoughts.”

Dean chuckles quietly. “You know, I never thought it’d come out like that. Drunk at one of those stupid frat parties. I… I always kinda pictured us going on a date or something…”

“Dean Winchester, old fashioned? I would’ve never guessed,” Castiel teases, earning him a gentle shove against his shoulder.

“Shut up. I wanted to be classy for you, okay?”

In reality, Castiel knows perfectly well how thoughtful Dean is to his love interests. He may put on a tough front, but he’s never been anything less than a gentleman in his past relationships. That was always hard to watch for Castiel, wishing it could be him. He reaches up to feel along Dean’s jaw, which causes him to shudder. They can’t see each other, but he’s hoping the touch will make for a good substitute of seeing each other’s eyes. “I like you as you are, Dean. You don’t need to be anything but that for me to be happy.”

Dean ducks his head, forehead resting against Castiel’s shoulder. “Jesus, you – you can’t say stuff like that, Cas.”

Castiel smiles. “Say for the sake of curiosity, we haven’t had our first kiss…”

Dean lifts his head. “Well, since you asked.” There’s no doubt a smirk is painted on Dean’s lips and a glint is in those eyes right now. Butterflies take flight in Castiel’s stomach as Dean’s lips brush against his, a soft peck that’s quickly followed by a firmer press. It’s innocent and tender, completely different from their first drunken kiss. This must be what it feels like for angels to soar through the clouds. So breathtaking and light, the feeling of invincibility and awe spreading throughout his body. Castiel’s hands trail down Dean’s side before spreading out over his back, feeling along the strong muscles underneath the Henley. Dean, still holding himself up with one arm, uses the other to cup Castiel’s face, his chill fingers searing against the warmth that seems permanent under his skin now.

After a few moments of gentle kisses, there’s the lightest brush of Dean’s tongue against Castiel’s bottom lip, and he parts his mouth experimentally. A soft sigh escapes him after the first caress, and he eagerly seeks out more. Honestly, it’s silly for Castiel to feel like he’s never kissed anyone before, but kissing Dean completely sober like this, without the taste of alcohol, it’s making his head spin more than the first time, which also was ten times more explicit.

It doesn’t take much for the kisses to lose their shyness, transforming into complete and utter want. Dean works his tongue deeper into Castiel’s mouth, and Castiel pushes back in an attempt to get more. Their breathing ratchets up with the heat, hands moving more eagerly over skin and clothes, touching all they can. A low fire starts to burn in Castiel’s stomach, and it’s materializing in the way his cock gradually hardens. Feeling Dean’s cock do the same, pressed against his thigh, isn’t doing him any favors either. Imagine how powerless he is when Dean adjusts himself so that when he thrusts ever so gently, it brushes right over Castiel’s erection.

“Dean,” he moans against his lips. Dean chuckles in response. Castiel isn’t too far gone to get his revenge, though. Gripping Dean’s hips, Castiel moves his hips and gives an answering thrust.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, fingers tangling into Castiel’s hair. They continue to go back and forth, their kisses becoming sloppier and more desperate as they rut against each other. Jesus, they’re like the horny teenagers in those eighties movies Dean had them watch during their movie nights. He should probably be embarrassed at how fast he’s approaching the edge, his boxers absorbing the pre-come as he aches for more while having no control over the desperate sounds that are escaping him. He can’t find it in himself to care. Dean seems to be the same above him anyway.

“Shit, Cas, I’m gonna –“ And just like that, Dean rips himself from Castiel’s arms, rolling onto his back beside him. Castiel whines pathetically at the loss, but his mind won’t give words to his protests. “Christ, Cas, we can’t – we shouldn’t do this here.”

Castiel’s trying hard to catch his breath, feeling dizzy from being so close to coming and then suddenly lacking any stimulation. But Dean’s right. If they come now, they’d either have to sit with the mess in their boxers all night or be assaulted by the cold to change into new ones. Neither option sounds particularly pleasant. “You’re right,” he admits reluctantly.

For several moments, they lay in silence with the exception of their labored breathing, not feeling chilled at all. Far from it. In fact, he wants to shed his hoodie because his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin, causing it to become damp with sweat. That’s one way to warm up, he supposes. When it feels he’s come down from being so high, he rolls over to nuzzle himself to Dean, almost worried he might wake up any second now and realize this is all a dream. He’s reassured by Dean’s arms wrapping around him, and a soft kiss is placed just above his eyebrow. If only he was able to look at Dean right now. Read whatever could be in those green eyes.

“I’m glad you changed your mind. About coming with, I mean,” Castiel finds himself saying.

“Me too, Cas.” A soft kiss. “Me too.”

Sleep takes Castiel then, and when he wakes up the next morning to find himself still tangled with Dean, whose hair is a mess from last night, he smiles. His heart skips a beat when Dean blearily blinks open his eyes, slowly adjusting to the bright sunlight streaming through the walls of the tent. All sorts of shades of green and hints of gold dance in them as they come to life and seem to remember the events that led them in the same sleeping bag.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

Dean smiles lazily at him, adoration prominent as he gazes back at him. “Morning, sunshine.”

It’s then that Castiel swears he’s fallen in love.