#saving THAT for the narrative slow drip

[bestworstcase]

@based7100 this tag made me snicker so

#forbidden tdt lore!

forbidden tdt lore!

we are not going to get into the whole entire TDT Salem Backstory for spoiler reasons and also because my gods we’d be here all day. the salient piece with regard to her semblance is that through the vast majority of the epoch between the moonfall and humanity’s return salem was experiencing varying degrees of deep deep psychosis and still, to this day, doesn’t really know How Much of what happened during that time was real. once there were people again and she’d had a few centuries to feel mostly sure of this fact, her semblance crystallized from her determination to. uh. live in this world.

(blows a kiss to ice queendom for giving me a leg to stand on here with this being in scope of what semblances can do.)

the baseline ability lets her enter and arrange her own mind as a tangible, real physical place. she has constructs representing memories, feelings, ideas, beliefs, pathways and architecture that she’s built out over thousands of years to guide and contain her thinking within the bounds she finds comfortable. which all adds up to salem being very weird but cogent Most Of The Time and having things she can do to ground herself when it gets. bad again.

in a sense her semblance is itself a realm. not a very large one—back of napkin estimate it takes about two hours to walk across end to end and four top to bottom following the main thoroughfare. but akin to ozma’s reliquaries in that it’s a real place where, conceivably, anyone could go if she opened a door. the pool of grimm and the waters of life are both In There.

(<- i had all this sketched out pre-v9 which made the salem-wrote-it ever after theory VERY FUNNY. btw)

sustaining that requires a Tremendous Amount of aura obviously but salem has an infinite reserve and also has been at it for almost the entire history of humankind 2: electric boogaloo so She’s Fine. anyway

that’s the foundation. the fun thing about giving salem a semblance of course is her immortality. what happens if you take a semblance and give it thousands upon thousands of years to cook? (one of my reasons for devising hers this way was to impose some restriction on the answer; it projects inward, not outward, because it’s a staircase she had to build to find the outside world. it can’t go the other way.)

when it originally manifested, the one point of ingress was through her dreams. (although the dividing lines between dreaming and waking and lucid semblance dreams were… permeable.) then she figured out how to cast herself in and out while awake, and from there developed a technique for making doors, which correlated with the interior construct becoming more real and let her physically enter it from remnant.

later on she decided that, since she could open the door in her semblance from anywhere on remnant, that door should also be able to open anywhere on remnant she felt like from the inside, and i think she spent a Long Time trying to make that work before it occurred to her that she could just… make more doors. (from the inside, a door always opens to where it was last opened from without; she still has not cracked this. but she does have a set of doors that all lead to destinations she’s “saved.”)

so she can use her semblance to travel, central location style, across remnant.

the other big thing she’s figured out how to do is use her semblance on other people, projecting herself into constructs of their minds. these aren’t real in the same way, they’re very dreamlike and fade when she withdraws, and of course she won’t have absolute control in a spatial model of someone else’s mind, but as you can imagine few of the outcomes of having salem in your head are pleasant. among other things this is how she “teaches” people how to communicate with grimm.

[physalian]

“How do I know if my story needs work or if I’m just being hard on myself?”

As I sit here accepting the fact that at 70k words into Eternal Night’s sequel while waiting for my editor for Eternal Night itself, that I have made an error in my plot.

Disclaimer: This is not universal and the writing experience is incredibly diverse. Figuring this out also takes some time and building up your self-confidence as an author so you can learn to separate “this is awful (when it’s not)” and “this is ok (but it can be better)” and “this isn’t working (but it is salvageable).”

—

When I wrote my first novel (unpublished, sadly), years ago, I would receive feedback all over the chapters and physically have to open other windows to block off parts of the screen on my laptop to slow-drip the feedback because I couldn’t handle constructive criticism all at once. I had my betas color-code their commentary so I could see before I read any of it that it wasn’t all negative. It took me thrice as long as it does today to get through a beta’s feedback because I got so nervous and anxious about what they would say.

The main thing I learned was this: They’re usually right, when it’s not just being mean (and even then, it’s rarely flat out mean), and that whatever criticisms they have of my characters and plot choices is not criticism of myself.

It did take time.

But now I can get feedback from betas and even when I hear “I’d DNF this shit right now unless you delete this,” I take a step back, examine if this one little detail is really that important, and fix it. No emotional turmoil and panic attack needed. I can also hear “I didn’t like it” without heartbreak. Can’t please everyone.

The only time I freak out is when I'm told "this won't need massive edits" followed up by, in the manuscript, "I'd DNF this shit right now". Which happened. And did not, in fact, require a massive rewrite to fix.

So.

What might be some issues with your story and why it “isn’t working”.

1. Your protagonist is not active enough in the story

You’ve picked your protagonist, but it’s every other character that has more to do, more to say, more choices to make, and they’re just along for the ride, yet you are now anchored to this character’s story because they’re the protagonist. You can either swap focus characters, or rework your story to give them more agency. Figure out why this character, above any other, is your hero.

2. Your pacing is too slow

Even if you have a “lazy river” style story where the vibes and marinating in the world is more important than a breakneck plot, slow pacing isn’t just “how fast the story moves” it’s “how clearly is the story told,” meaning if you divert the story to a side quest, or spend too long on something that sure is fluffy or romantic or funny, but it adds nothing to the characters because it’s redundant, doesn’t advance the plot, doesn’t give us more about the world that actually matters to the themes, then you may have lost focus of the story and should consider deleting it, or editing important elements into the scenes so they can pull double-duty and serve a more active purpose.

3. You’ve lost the main argument of your narrative

Sometimes even the best of outlines and the clearest plans derail. Characters don’t cooperate and while we see where it goes, we end up getting hung up on how this one really cool scene or argument or one-liner just has to be in the story, without realizing that doing so sacrifices what you set out to accomplish. Personally I think sticking to your outline with biblical determination doesn’t allow for new ideas during the writing process, but if you find yourself down the line of “how did we get here, this isn’t what I wanted” you can always save the scenes in another document to reuse later, in this WIP or another in the future.

4. You’re spending too long on one element

Even if the thing started out really cool, whether it’s a rich fantasy pit stop for your characters or a conversation two characters must have, sometimes scenes and ideas extend long past their prime. You might have characters stuck in one location for 2 or 3 chapters longer than necessary trying to make it perfect or stuff in all these details or make it overcomplicated, when the rest of the story sits impatiently on the sidelines for them to move on. Figure out the most important reasons for this element to exist, take a step back, and whittle away until the fat is cut.

5. You’ve given a side character too much screentime

New characters are fun and exciting! But they can take over the story when they’re not meant to, robbing agency from your core characters to leave them sitting with nothing to do while the new guy handles everything. You might end up having to drag your core characters along behind them, tossing them lines of dialogue and side tasks to do because you ran out of plot to delegate with one character hogging it all (which is the issue I ran into with the above mentioned WIP). Not talking about a new villain or a new love interest, I mean a supporting character who is supposed to support the main characters.

—

As for figuring out the difference between “this is awful and I’m a bad writer” and “this element isn’t working” try pretending the book was written by somebody else and you’re giving them constructive criticism.

If you can come up with a reason for why it’s not working that doesn’t insult the writer, it’s probably the latter. As in, “This element isn’t working… because it’s gone on too long and the conversation has become cyclical and tiring.” Not “this element isn’t working because it’s bad.”

Why is it bad?

“This conversation is awkward because…. There’s not enough movement between characters and the dialogue is really stiff.”

“This fight scene is bad because….I don’t have enough dynamic action, enough juicy verbs, or full use of the stage I’ve set.”

“This romantic scene is bad because…. It’s taking place at the wrong time in the story. I want to keep it, but this character isn’t ready for it yet, and the vibe is all wrong now because they’re out-of-character.”

“This argument is bad because…. It didn’t have proper build-up and the sudden shouting match is not reflective of their characters. They’re too angry, and it got out of hand quickly. Or I’m not conveying the root of their aggression.”

—

There aren’t very many bad ideas, just bad execution. “Only rational people can think they’re crazy. Crazy people think they’re sane,” applies to writing, too.

I just read a fanfic recently where, for every fight scene, I could tell action was not the writer’s strong suit. They leaned really heavily on a crutch of specific injuries for their characters, the same unusual spot getting hit over and over again, and fights that dragged on for too long being unintentionally stagnant. The rest of the fic was great, though, and while the fights weren’t the best, I understood that the author was trying, and I kept reading for the good stuff. One day they will be better.

In my experience beta reading, it’s the cocky authors who send me an unedited manuscript and tell me to be kind (because they can’t take criticism), that they know it’s perfect they just want an outside opinion (they don’t want the truth, they want what will make them feel good), that they know it’s going to make them a lot of money and everyone will love it (they haven’t dedicated proper time and effort into researching marketing, target audiences, or current trends)—these are the truly bad authors. Not just bad at writing, but bad at taking feedback, are bullies when you point out flaws in their story, and cheap, too.

The best story I have received to date was where the author didn’t preempt with a self-deprecating deluge of “it’s probably terrible you know but here it is anyway” or “this is perfect and I’m super confident you’re going to love it”.

It was something like, “This is my first book and I know it has flaws and I’m nervous but I had a lot of fun doing it”.

And yeah, it needed work, but the bones of something great were there. So give yourself some credit, yeah?

[deerspherestudios]

Hi! I played your game and really, really like it, I am a huge fan of slow burn - combined with Yandere too? That's kinda rare nowadays, haha. Thanks for making it and creating Mychael, I love his design. Two questions: How many days are planned to be playable in the full release?

And

Since in just one day Mychael feels very friendly towards us (according to a post you made with where his feelings are based on a meter) does that mean he's very clingy??? Like, in just one day he feels like our friend. What little effort and words will it take for him to go from crush, to love, to whatever yandere thing he might be??? Like, is he okay??? Should I be worried???

This guy? Clingy? Nahhh. Nothing to worry about, anon :-) 🍄❤️

As for the game, long (!!!) answer below cut: might be spoiler-y might be not.

For context, here's the post mentioned above.

I'm still not sure how many days it will be, but it's definitely ranging between 4-5 days. Granted it'll be a while before the game is finished finished but I think progress will pick up as I complete assets that will be reused. I'm writing Days 2, 3 and 4 simultaneously (anyone who writes can probably relate to wanting a specific thing to happen in the story but dread writing up to it, so I skip around in order to keep my motivation and interest up)

As for relationship progression, slow burn usually means a long time passes before anything develops. But this is a VN and I'm a solo part-time dev so the scope still has to be small 😔 That said!

Mychael, as a person, is quite solitary in nature; he likes being alone and you'll find out why. He does however desire company and he's only realized just how pleasant having someone around can be (hence his reaction for the Bad Endings in Day 1 if you wish to leave/run away)

Although I'm not a fan of the 'you do one (1) nice thing any decent person would do and yandere is already head-over-heels for you' trope, I do have to make use of it but, drip-feed style? You grow closer to Mychael as you hang out with him and do little things that he appreciates. (Honestly I just realized I'm describing the typical visual novel experience just without the yandere beginning-- go! figure!!! /lh)

Example: the first thing that boosts you to immediate friend status is your willingness to accept his physical looks, something that's never happened to him before. (I know my artstyle makes him a yassified pretty boy but imagine genuinely meeting a sentient creature in real life with patchy green skin, a dextrous tail and four blinking pitch black eyes, I think I'd freak too haha) Little things like that mean a lot to him and motivates him to prolong your stay.

In a way, the MC is written to be more kinder and open-minded (at least outside of Bad Ends) than the sweet/sour personalities that come in a VN, so (for narrative AND coding purposes) I can't really diversify it much. I hope that's okay ¯\_(; v ; )_/¯ If Mychael met a more grouchy/mean MC on Day 1 he'd probably not be as attached. He'd just save you, feed you and send you home when you ask hahaha. Of course this will change as he gets to know you better, at that stage he'll be willing to overlook your flaws like any upstanding yandere

Phew this was a lot to dump in an ask but I did wanna explain my vision for the game! I enjoy yandere VNs as an escape fantasy, but it's common they start out with the yan already being invested in you or fall for you too fast!!! if that makes sense. I'm interested in yanderes in the aspect of how love (romantic or otherwise) starts from innocent affection and spirals into dark obsession!!! It's also compelling as to why a character is so devoted to someone, in this situation the MC, and I wanna write the kind of person Mychael would fall for. And personally 'love-at-first-sight' as a reason just doesn't do it for me 💔

(Disclaimer!!! I'm not saying my game is any more original or better than the other wonderful yan VNs in the works, but hopefully with Mychael as a character I can deliver that 'slow-burn-and-yearn' storyline I'd like it to be. As my itchio profile says: I make games I thirst for in secret but are sadly lacking around the internet 💔 )

Thank you for the ask!! :-D

[corazondebeskar-reads]

save your tears

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 18 - too weak to move | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.1k

summary: What would have happened if you went with Joel and Ellie instead of staying in Jackson?

-- I cheated a little for this one but this is an alternate universe scene from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone.

warnings: established situationship, canon-compliant-ish, canon-typical violence, description of wound, description of bodily fluids related to a wound, realistic thoughts about a survival situation, hunting and eating of animals

dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: this is what I call the silver lake alternate version. in my very early draft of the story, you did not stay in jackson. you got mad at Joel for abandoning Ellie and went to the stables in the morning, planning to go with Ellie and Tommy. The rest of the events happened as per canon. However, as I was writing this scene, it became quickly apparent that it was the wrong narrative choice. but just for fun, here's a snippet after Joel is wounded. (stay tuned in the end notes for the one single David line I wrote).

“You can’t shoot,” Ellie says. She won’t look at you. It’s not mean; it’s just another way you’re failing them. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be back,” she promises. 

You hate this. But there’s no time for self-loathing. What you can do instead is boil snow. 

You creep up to the main level of the house. When you’re sure it’s clear, you crawl through, trying to stay out of sight through any windows. You’re able to scrounge up a few containers of dubious origin and cleanliness but better than your two canteens. 

You light a fire in an old ration tin and prop a steel mixing bowl (the best find of the lot) on top. The first round of snow goes to scrubbing out the containers with an unfortunately large sliver from your bar of soap. 

It’s a loss, but you can’t risk putting dirty water on Joel’s wound. 

Once you have one clean bowl of water, you set another to boil and pull back his shirt and bandages. 

It’s bad. You know it, Ellie knows it, Joel knows it. But you have to try. You have to, or all three of you are dead. 

Well. Maybe not Ellie. She’s tough and capable. Maybe she could make it back to Tommy without you slowing her down. 

You have nothing remotely sterile, so you mentally set aside the next bowl of water for cleaning a scrap of fabric. For now, you try to flush the wound with a slow stream of warm water. 

You’ve been talking to him quietly, explaining to him what you were doing, though his consciousness is dubious at best today. But when you start to pour, his eyes snap open, and his hand flashes out to squeeze at the bones of your wrist. 

“Joel, it’s me, it’s just me,” you say quickly. His grip is grinding, and things are not going to be helped by a broken wrist. And you know it never really healed right, that breaking it a second time would mean it possibly never working the same again. You try not to panic. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, and he seems to finally recognize you. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go. 

“I’m just trying to help,” you say. You feel like the basement is getting smaller, darker, like it might swallow you up. Someone is breathing shakily, and you’re humiliated to find out it’s you. 

His thumb rubs against your pulse for a moment. “Take Ellie and go,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking. 

Instead of responding, you bring the canteen up to his mouth and let a little water drip into his mouth. His eyes close for a moment. 

He purses his lips too soon, a tiny shake to his head. 

“It’s okay, I’m boiling more, please drink.”

But he’s already passing back out. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his hair. It’s damp with sweat despite the crystalline spread of ice inside the windowpanes. 

Sweat is good, right? It means his body is burning the infection. At least, you think so. 

You pause to switch the water so you can get a clean rag. Maybe when Ellie gets back, you can try to ransack the other houses for anything of use. 

You wait until you have a full slate of clean water before you drink any. When it hits your tongue, you think you might cry. Pacing yourself is so hard. 

He wakes up again when you try to clean the wound with the fabric you’d torn from your ragged t-shirt. Every breath draws bile you have to swallow again and again, a fruitless endeavor that ends with you scrambling to throw up outside, terrified of introducing any other contaminants to his environment. 

When you scrub at the wound, he’s awake enough to struggle with the pain but not awake enough to be aware of what’s happening. So he tries to move away, to fight you off. 

It’s worth it, you tell yourself over and over. You’re able to get some of the dirt away with some soap, and some of the pus flows, but not enough. You don’t put pressure on it, afraid to push the infection deeper. 

The skin around his stitches is puffy, red, and oozing. Dread settles deep. You’re probably going to need to cut them and clean the wound. But not now; you can’t force yourself to at this moment. Plus, you might need Ellie to help in case he tries to fight it. 

Instead, you use a clean corner of the rag to wipe dirt from his face and another to try and drip a little more water into his mouth. Suppressing a sob, you press your lips to the burning skin of his forehead. 

Ellie comes back a few hours later and a few rabbits richer. She’s skinned and prepped them when she comes inside, and you set to boiling the meat and bones. 

The two of you eat the meat, and you spend the rest of the evening trying to drip broth into Joel’s mouth. 

It turns into a rhythm. Joel doesn’t get worse, but he doesn’t get better. Sometimes, he wakes and tries to convince you to leave again, to take Ellie and abandon him. Neither of you are very tolerant of his arguments. 

Once, when you’re alone, he seems a little lucid. Ellie is out checking traps, and you’re sitting helplessly next to Joel, sniffling. You’ve got squirrel boiling in the little can fire, but it takes a long time, leaving you with little to do but wait. 

“Why’re ya cryin’, sweetheart?” His voice cracks from disuse, and he tries to clear his throat. 

You’re up on your knees with the canteen to his lips in an instant. He drinks a little and swats it away, reaching a shaky hand to cup your cheek and brush away a tear with his thumb. 

“I know y’ain’t cryin’ over me,” he scolds. 

It only makes you cry harder, though you scramble to choke it back. You peel his hand from you, holding it for a moment in both of yours before giving it a gentle squeeze and placing it back on the mattress. 

“Let me get you some broth,” you mumble, wiping your eyes on your dusty sleeves. 

He lets you feed him a little. 

“C’mere,” he says when you’ve reluctantly stowed the broth. He tugs you to his uninjured side, and you have to squeeze your eyes tight as you gently curl to him. “Remember when you used to be a good girl and do whatever I’d tell ya?”

“We’re not leaving you, Joel.” You’re so tired of this conversation. Actually, you realize as his heat seeps through your clothes, you’re just so tired. 

“Even though I was gonna leave you?”

“Shit, you’re right,” you say and watch exasperatedly as he has the nerve to look a little hopeful. “You nearly leavin’ me behind in the safest place you know is the same thing as leavin’ you to rot in a random filthy basement.”

“Stubborn brat,” he grumbles before he falls back into a fitful sleep.

BONUS — The one line I wrote for a scene with David:

“something rude,” says David.

*title from "Save Your Tears" by The Weeknd

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

My tinhat theory is that Harry is infact going to shift base to UK in the coming year, at least part time. From there he will weasel his way into family gatherings, holidays and dinner parties - Christmas, Easter service, shooting weekends, papped with old aristo friends at their bardyard "rave" fests etc.

This will go in for a year or so. All of his sightings at anything private family gathering related will always be "rumoured", grainy pics will surface, no one will officially comment. This will be Harry's PR initially.

Harry will behave and stay quiet. He will do his own private charity work. Go to Africa, save elephants, save rhinos, build a school, be photographed with little kids... He will do all this but give no interviews. Then the palace PR will kick in after a year or so.

Some will call it the annual review. Public sentiment will have slowly shifted in Harry's favour. The mainstream media will then talk about how harry seems to have changed back to his old self, but more mature, almost sorry, trying to make up for everything he did while he was in Meghan's clutches. We will get a few newsroom debates about this.

Harry and palace will still stay quiet. And then out of the blue we will see him walking by the king's side, or more strategically by Williams side, during the private Christmas service. Or appear at Diana awards or a gala or the races.

The palace will issue a statement saying he is just there as a member of the close family, it's not an official appearance, no taxpayer money is going into his coffers etc etc. Something like what the queen did for Andrew.

His come back will be slow, very subtle but steady. The precedent has been set by the queen and Andy.

The King's logic might be that it's better to keep the enemy close and mildly satisfied.

From a PR point of view it could be implemented, if excexutedcally and patiently it may even succeed. From a public sentiment point of view or a national security, or a moral standpoint it is dicey and not advisable and extremely unpalatable. So a lot depends on how long Charles stays the monarch.

If Harry is smart he will do this while his dad is still around. It might just be the reason the separation got intiated in the first place, by Harry, as soon as the queen passed.

Once the queen was gone, Harry had a lightbulb moment and realized what side his bread needed to be buttered. He started pivoting with the spare interviews, trying to take back the accusations he had made.

The scenario you propose is exactly how I thought it would go after the divorce. I was sure they would take him back and rehabilitate him successfully.

But then I read his book and realized that Harry’s completely nuts. He is literally consumed with envy and resentment. Every page is dripping with jealousy and bitterness.

This means they can’t rehabilitate him. Any effective rehabilitation would require a narrative leading to a pledge of loyalty and fealty to Charles and Will, the monarchs he would have to serve for the rest of his life. The rehabilitation will not work without that. He has to serve the Crown.

And he is incapable of doing that. He is too consumed with envy and bitterness, and those feelings are clearly not due to Meghan’s influence. They have been there since his childhood. PR can do a lot and royal PR is extremely convincing. However, they need something they can work with. Harry has destroyed any chance he had at rehabilitation.

[dungeon-strugglers]

✨New item!✨ Mutineer’s Cutlass  Weapon (scimitar), rare (requires attunement) 

A slow trickle of blood drips from the blade of this cutlass. The blood is hot to the touch, as if freshly spilled. You have a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon.

The cutlass has 3 charges. When you hit a creature with this cutlass, you can expend 1 charge to force it to make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, the blade’s tainted blood seeps into the creature’s wound and sends it into a mutinous rage for 1 minute. Constructs are immune to this effect. While enraged, the creature cannot distinguish between friend or foe, regarding all creatures it can see as enemies. Whenever the affected creature chooses another creature as a target, it must choose the target at random from among the creatures it can see within range of the attack, spell, or other ability it's using. If an enemy provokes an opportunity attack from the affected creature, the creature must make that attack if it is able to. An enraged creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. The cutlass regains all expended charges daily at dawn.

This sinister sword was retrieved from a ship drifting in open water, strewn with the corpses of all aboard. The blade is stained with the blood of the ship’s own captain and crew, which lost its course in uncharted waters. It appears that a mutiny broke out, resulting in the crew’s total annihilation. A mutinous spirit inhabits the blade, emanating desperate bloodthirsty rage.

- 🖌🎨 Like our work? Consider supporting us on Patreon and gain access to the hi-resolution art for over 170 magic items, item cards and card packs, beautiful creature art and stat blocks, and setting pdfs with narrative hooks and unique lore!🧙‍♂️

📜 Credit. Art and design by us: the Dungeon Strugglers. Please credit us if you repost elsewhere.

[moreiravitevaleria]

Analysis the short storie -That Echo the Call for Water Conservation

Introduction

Water, often referred to as the elixir of life, is the most essential resource on our planet. Yet, water scarcity and environmental concerns continue to challenge us. In this blog, we will delve into captivating short stories that not only entertain but also carry profound messages about the pressing need for water conservation.

Literary Analysis

"The River's Whisper": This story takes us on a journey alongside a river that is slowly drying up due to excessive use. Through the river's perspective, the narrative explores the deep connection between water and life, highlighting the consequences of neglecting water conservation. "As the river whispered its lament, the world around it seemed to wither, mirroring the river's own slow demise." "The Lost Oasis": In this enchanting tale, a young explorer stumbles upon a hidden oasis in the desert. The oasis, teetering on the edge of disappearing, becomes a metaphor for our collective responsibility in conserving water. "As the explorer gazed upon the oasis, he felt the weight of a world that had come to rely on him to protect and nurture this sanctuary of life."

Author's Message

The authors of these stories deliver a clear message: water conservation is not an option; it's an imperative. They invite us to awaken to our role in preserving this vital resource for future generations.

Practical Advice

Conscious Consumption: Be mindful of your water use in daily life. Turn off the tap while brushing your teeth and take shorter showers. Rainwater Harvesting: Collect rainwater in barrels or tanks for various household and gardening needs. Fix Leaks: Address any leaks or drips promptly, as they can waste significant amounts of water over time. Water-Efficient Appliances: Invest in water-saving appliances and fixtures. Look for the WaterSense label when buying faucets, showerheads, and toilets. Community Education: Educate your community about water conservation. Organize events or workshops to raise awareness and share practical tips.

Conclusion

The short stories of water conservation serve as powerful reminders that every drop counts. By adopting water-saving practices and inspiring change in our communities, we can contribute to the preservation of this life-giving resource. Let these stories be your motivation to embark on a journey towards a more water-conscious and sustainable future. Water, after all, is our common thread, connecting us all.

[riewritten]

31 SEMBLANCE

DUSK IN THE BRIGHTEST | chapter directory

erwin smith/fem!reader, erwin smith/you, no y/n | slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, mutual pining, canon AU, college/univ AU, professor erwin smith, commander erwin smith, non-linear narrative, manga spoilers

Trigger warning: canon-typical violence, graphic description, explicit sexual content, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues, trauma, implied/referenced sexual harassment, implied/referenced abuse, attempted murder, overdosing

Plot: It was always the nightmares, really. Entrapped with walls, human-eating giants, fighting through metal strings and swords – utterly violent, dreary, recurrent. But behind the blurry faces was a man with menacing blue eyes and vivid features; eventually appearing before you as your new reputable professor, Erwin Smith. Since then, the disaster had slipped beyond your subconscious. AO3

As you dwelled on your cries, the commander finally sat down again; his fingers continuously glided on your cheeks to soothe you somehow.

"How are they in that world?" He finally spoke again after a while.

"The two are living as Levi's siblings. Isabel, while a full-on brat, stuck to me since we were children. Furlan is very composed and he helps Levi in lots of things." You chuckled a bit despite the tears due to random memory. "You won't believe me when I say he used to hold me with affection and now he's having a happy crush on the current queen."

Indeed, that would be hard to imagine. Erwin had to register that with a small laugh as well. "The others?"

"I haven't met Miche, Hange, and the others yet but they're friends with you two. I hear them a lot from you and Levi."

"Miche… he's living a better life as well, I see." He pondered. For some reason, his voice was a mixture of relief and bitterness. "How am I in that world?"

"You became quite like your father despite having him for just a short time. You've been very gentle to everyone, especially to me, and helped me without hesitation because I was left behind for so long due to lots of things…" You bit your lip to suppress another wave of emotions. "And you also chose to remember everything in this world by dreams so you could pay for your debts. That's why our paths crossed again. You were my saving grace in that world. Having this vision was too tormenting for me until you came."

"It's good that I didn't end up too much of a bastard somehow." He finally withdrew his palm on your cheek and rested it on your hand instead. "Are you healthy enough in that world?"

"I am. I was poisoned with soup then stabbed but I think I'm fine in general."

"Soup?" Erwin repeated in surprise. "So all this time—"

"I quickly overcame my fear towards the dish when you repeatedly accompanied me while eating it." You clarified with a chuckle. "But that's why you're on the edge in that world as well. Despite some distinctions, you're completely the same cruel man."

"If I ever did murder the perpetrator in that world, would you be able to forgive me?"

"Of course, I would. I'm staying no matter what." You answered resolutely. "It doesn't need to clash with seeking accountability, after all."

Silence enveloped the whole room. You heard Erwin gulp after a while as if trying to articulate the next question. Then you realized he might be having a hard time voicing it out because he squeezed onto your hand.

"Was I able to give you all the love you deserve in that world?"

That's when you finally let the tears drip down again. It was silent weeping this time and you held onto his hand tightly as well. "You're a man full of teasing and banters but you also keep on telling me that I'll get everything I want in that world. That you'll make up for it somehow."

"Is that so," He weakly muttered and stayed still again. When you glanced at him, you almost sobbed out loud. He looks so sad and on a closer look, it's as if he's a lost child who's so conflicted about what to do. His eyes are glued on the hand he's holding and it's obvious that he's taking quite a while coming up with other things to say. Never in your life did you think you'd ever see this man so lost with his words.

"Do you want to go back?" He muttered.

Somehow, as the sight continuously burns your vision, you notice how he's trying to muster up the courage to finally let you go.

You weren't able to stop the sobs then. "I could live everywhere as long as you're alive."

"But the people dear to you are alive in that world. It's needless to say that you'll be happier there."

"You're the only reason I existed again. You strongly wished for me to exist, that's why I'm here even after using the power granted to me. Your existence is what matters to me the most."

"You say that I'm still the same man in that world… but do I actually have the ability to protect you with all my might?"

"You have. We could protect ourselves. There are no monsters in that world." You repeated what you had said back in Wall Maria.

His eyes widened then as if that remark ultimately concluded the whole bargain. Finally, his grip on your hand untightened.

Despite the calm wistfulness, he looks more broken this time. You weren't able to take it so you gripped his hand again. "I'll stay here. You don't need to convince me anymore. I could live with you here. I would love to do so."

That's when Erwin finally smiled. It was the most poignant smile you've ever seen of him, in this world and the other one. He gently removed your grasp on him and shook his head. "You came here to save me and so your job here is done. That's more than enough for me."

"No. You said it, right? We can do the things we weren't able to do before. I would love to have that life. You told me I'd look good living inside the walls as well. Then live with me." You're the one doing the bargain this time. "It's not fake security anymore and I'd be able to live beside someone I love. We don't even have to quit at all. We just have to—"

You were cut off gently when Erwin leaned in for a kiss. He held on to your cheeks and languidly glided his lips to yours. It's slow, too slow that you just know he is savoring it for the last time. You let him melt down your sobs then.

He halted after a while with both of your lips barely touching and breathing in each other's air. "Isabel needs someone right now." He whispered.

"No. She has everyone to take care of her." You begged, completely setting aside the worries in pursuit of coaxing the man above you who had nothing in this life but pure suffering.

"Furlan is having a hard time. If a man as composed as him is having such difficulty keeping himself up then you really need to go back."

"Again, you just have to let me live with you. They have each other and we don't need to worry about them."

"How about me in that world? Who do I have there?" You were shot into silence then. Somehow, Erwin hoped you would be able to pitch in a name. Perhaps that'd make him reconsider his decision. When you didn't respond, he just smiled again and landed a chaste peck on the bridge of your nose.

"You need to come back and stop me from doing something irreversible or if I already did, you have to be there and forgive me." He landed another one on your forehead. "Because you're sweet like that, my dearest girl that's holding me with so much affection. You're the one who's been saving me all this time and I need another saving in that world right now."

"But I could just stay here, don't you want that? We could finally have good things together."

"The fact that there's a world where we could get that is more than enough for me. What you did in this world is more than enough for me." He said while hushing your tears away.

You start to feel as if you're being pulled away from your body, each second ticking until you disappear into thin air, until you leave the body that Erwin is holding so dearly.

No, just a moment. I'm not done yet. I need to have him realize that I'm meant to be here.

"You went through a lot as it is and I could finally stay beside you to get past our miseries. I was dead set on dying there but if I could have the chance to live with you here—" However, you realized that Erwin's words are to be heard as well because it's by his will that you're here. He's the one who vehemently desired to see you again even if it's just a glimpse. He's the one who begged for the parallel and had it full of glitches. "You won't let me go, would you?"

"I won't. I have you beyond worlds after all. See, you have this terrible man stuck on you for several lifetimes." It's as if the Erwin smiling in front of you also knows well that he had the final say as much as you do.

He lands another kiss as he finally decides to let you go, for this moment is the last one you'll ever have of him — the man who had tons of mistakes and sought to be forgiven, the one who died and still begged for you to save him, and the one who vehemently believed that seeing you again even just for a minute is more than he could ever wish for.

"Thank you for coming to me."

It’s as if your mind has been flying away inside an abyss since then. You could hear words but they’re just playing around in the air. What’s keeping you from breaking is that last moment playing inside your head so vividly on repeat. Despite not knowing how long you've been doing it, you're still more than thankful at the sight. There's no way you'd get sick of it when you're well aware that by the time it stops playing, you won't see nor feel the commander ever again.

On the day you finally got agency with your thoughts and body again, even for a short period, you woke up screaming. Your body reeked of sweat even though the temperature was not even high. The peaceful and well-cleaned room is spinning around your eye. Every corner of it is threatening you with death, kitchen knives, blood, scattered utensils, and broken plates. This wasn't even included with your worries until this very moment. There's a lump in your throat that makes it hard for you to breathe and it's more than enough to acknowledge that you're back for good. It's your body that's reacting to all of this, not your consciousness beyond this world.

Fortunately, everyone is inside the house today including Erwin. Kuchel’s household usually takes turns tending to you so everyone stopped in their tracks as soon as they heard you screaming in the room, from words like "mom" and "I'm sorry" up to painful cries about how you want to see your brother again. They stormed towards where you are. Everyone who'd go near you during these episodes could be perceived as a threat, that's why they have to be careful not to invade your space.

It was Kuchel who spoke first, gently and tranquil. The rest waited at the door. "It's okay, it's okay. Look at your surroundings. You're in a completely different place. No one's gonna hurt you here." Kuchel slowly walked.

You can't even hear her, not at all. "Mom, I don't–" You gripped your hair with both hands “I don’t remember. This isn't what I intended to create when I—" You cut yourself off with a shaky gasp as you clutched on your left stomach. "—it hurts. Oh, it hurts. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You felt how it's bleeding, how it'd spurt out the blood from you anytime soon, your organs gushing out along the way.

Furlan and Isabel can't even look at you anymore. Levi still had his composed face but his eyebrows were curled, perhaps in worry, anger, or both. Erwin's expression was grim, nearly unreadable, as he followed your every move. Despite Kuchel's completely composed demeanor, this is an utterly painful sight to see as there's no wound in your stomach anymore. Your mother's not holding a knife at you because she's dead. She can't hurt you anymore. No one could.

Nothing but the flashes of memories that'd stay in you for the rest of your life.

That's the cue for her then as the pain perceived by your brain would distract you from seeing someone walking as a threat. She tried a palm on your head at first to test, but you flinched and screamed so she pulled back. Kuchel then stayed half a meter away, knelt down to your level, and whispered things only audible to the both of you. Slowly but surely, her whispers subsided your panic down into sobs. You still had your eyes shot really wide but the mind hysteria decreased. Kuchel tried to touch you again, this time you were calmer; she took that as the cue and gently engulfed you in her embrace. As she caressed your head, you hugged your knees. The sobs weakened until they became mere huffs. She then laid you down, let you curl yourself up in a fetal position, and closed your eyes after a while. Breathing became steady then. You're sleeping again. Kuchel finally halted her hands. That's when those who'd like to go near you entered, Erwin first.

Upon sitting on the bed, Erwin placed a hand on your cheek to check something, "She's having a fever again.”

Isabel is crying this time but she didn't dare utter a word anymore. She walked out to get a towel and basin with water. Levi reached a hand on top of her head though, halting her for a while. "I know that face. Don't blame yourself again. She's already here."

Her bottled-up thoughts finally broke. "Why did you listen to me? I'm your stupid sister, a good-for-nothing brat. I didn't even dare go to college. Why did you? Both of you should've known better!" She also shot Furlan a glare.

The way she's shouting at Levi is a completely new sight to see. Indeed, she tends to shout a lot but this one’s completely angry and spiteful. Even Furlan is completely taken aback. Isabel's train of thought has been crippled since that evening. Not only you who got physically harmed would be scarred in the mind. The only time she stopped waking and throwing up in the middle of the night was when you finally woke up.

Levi ruffled her hair. "I told you she's here already. No one will blame you. Not even Mom blamed you when you finally told her." He then moved Isabel's head to turn it towards Kuchel's. The mother flashed an apologetic smile at her. "Not even the brat lying down beside her would blame you. You know that much by now, don't you? You're the one closest to her here."

Isabel gulped the lump down her throat. Everyone paused. After wiping her face, she walked away without a word. She's still shaking. Her fists are clenched just as usual, so hard that her hands are stained with red marks.

"I'll buy meds outside." Furlan quietly excused himself.

Kuchel walked towards the two and patted their shoulders to say something. "Her father won't be coming back. He cut all his connections off and I discovered the other day that he already has a new family overseas. Maybe the divorce was what pushed that woman to her limits. I don't even know about it. Not even their child got aware." Erwin then widened his eyes. He's the one who initiated the search for him after all. "That's pretty much it. She's got nothing but us now. Not that it made any difference. It's been like this ever since." Then walked away as if nothing happened. Her composure did not falter at all. It says a lot about how her eldest is the same.

Then Erwin and Levi were left alone. Levi started. "You're fortunate she killed herself first before you could."

Erwin folded his arms as he leaned on the door jamb, watched your now tranquil figure then clicked his tongue. "Fortunate, you say?"

"What do you think would happen if this girl finally came back to her senses and discovered you became a murderer instead?"

"She already knew that'd happen.” He blatantly uttered it to you after all. He’s just quite uncertain if you would actually remember. “And yet I'm too livid to care, I don't think I ever could."

Of course, Levi should know this much by now. He changed the topic then. "When you went to her that day, did you bring a weapon?"

“I'm the one who gave her the weapon, even asked her to kill me. I got nothing but words. Do you think I'm the one who led her into that?"

"Don't throw questions on me. Explain what happened instead."

Erwin silently walked toward you and sat on the bed. Before answering, he fixed the blanket so it'd cover you properly. He made sure your head would be the only thing visible as if recalling your humorous exchange way back at the balcony could help in toning down his grim thoughts. His demeanor stayed dark though, utterly dark. "Nothing dangerous. Just told her she's already dead and I'm giving her the chance to choose if she'd be the one to do the final act or me. If she chooses me then I'd do her some service like the good man I am. Something that'd take a whole day."

"You—" Levi shot his eyes wide. "Urged her to do that?"

Instead of answering, Erwin busied himself brushing his hand on your head. You squeaked and moved a bit but didn't wake up. When he gave Levi a look again, the latter had to register the sight. Erwin looked utterly perilous right now despite his tranquil touches. His face was flat as stone, not even a curl on his eyebrows nor a scowl. The menacing glint in his eyes is more than enough to remark how angry he is right now and how unremorseful of what he did. He might be willing to do more, even. Levi almost shuddered. Considering how Erwin holds you right now despite the face he's having, it seems like you're the only one safe in this space as of the moment.

Levi doesn't want to imagine what would become of him if you really died. "What the fuck is up with that face?"

"She's the one who ended her suffering. Did herself a favor and died. Who do you think is the more fortunate one here, Levi?"

"What have you done, exactly?"

"I do deadlines in my profession a lot so I tried having it to her as well. If this angel doesn't wake up in two weeks—" Then his caresses slid on your cheeks instead. "Perhaps a stab, or having the nails removed, hour after an hour, no drugs involved, let her blood dry out all over her house. Anything, really. I also visited her daily for gentle reminders; told her that the time is ticking and that I accept requests. Gave her intricate details of what I would do to her if the deadline came. She tried to stay from one place to another to avoid me but I always ended up bumping into her coincidentally. I think the setup in this world is pretty much in my favor, unlike the previous one."

The search warrant didn’t even last for more than 24 hours. She was quickly found dead.

Realization daunted Levi. “I thought you only went to her place once.”

"You think that'd suffice? I'm as good as dead might as well bring her down with me. Want me to get more detailed about it?" It's not even a question meant for Levi's approval. It was perhaps a mockery he intended to voice out in this world. He's making every dust in this space right now hear how low he went and how he'd go further if the conditions set upon the girl he's holding are way crueler than what just happened. "I might've done my words so well because every day I visited her, she'd end up screaming and sobbing. I didn't even need to soil my hands. Her deranged mind is way too easy to corrupt. I gave her some gifts, perhaps the last one was her breaking point. It was the portrait of her dead son in Paradis. How he looked, how healthy and happy he was thanks to his sister who loved him so well like the sweetest girl that she is. How precious my woman is because she ended up saving everyone's asses, including that wicked mother only if she knew better than to make her existence known to me."

If something's horrifying Levi, it wasn't what Erwin did, not at all, but rather the lack of guilt on his features. It's as if a completely different man is sitting on the bed because the thing that's been crippling Erwin all his life is the same one he's lacking right now.

"All this time your life revolved around remorse and now you'd shit on me at how you didn't feel that at all?"

"Paying debts. Bullshit. Completely stupid.” He spat sardonically. “This girl's the one who paid for it all this time. I thought so highly of myself."

Levi brought a hand to his temples, massaged them slightly then spoke again. "I'm not in the mood to ask anymore. Spill everything now or get your hands off her and walk out of this house."

"When she told you that she wasn't supposed to exist, it's not a bluff to save that woman. She's the one who instigated this world in exchange for her existence." And finally, Erwin's grimness subsided. It was replaced with dread. "I don't even know why she's lying down here as we speak. A moment ago I was fighting my other self for dear life because I want her here and now I can't comprehend what's happening anymore."

"How do you even know it wasn't a bluff?"

"She's the one who instigated this world, made me survive my demise, and ensured that I'd witness everything in Paradis until the end. That's why I was sure to kill her mother, Levi. Because I don't think I'd have her again. Back then, I just knew she was dead the moment I saw her in my subconscious, and the thought of that woman living in a world granted by the girl she almost killed repulsed me." Erwin just looks tired, even worse than what Levi used to see when they were younger. "And now that she chose to come back to this world only to suffer like this: completely unresponsive and broken, I feel nothing but regret that I actually did that woman a favor by not having her dead in my hands."

Levi finally calmed down and silence enveloped the room for a while. He understands, he really does, but still, "I doubt you'd be sputtering grim shit out of your mouth if this girl's actually in her right mind and could hear you." With that, Erwin's dreadful face was replaced with sheer lament as if what Levi said brought him back. The latter could finally see him again then, the Erwin that he and everyone knows well.

"She already knew what I would do if she remained unconscious in this world. That's what took her to come back here even, but still, I don't think I'd ever regret what I did even if she comes to despise me, and I also saw something right after that woman died."

"Are you gonna tell me her mother instigated something as well?"

Erwin nodded, "I saw her brother, the one she had in that world but didn't have here, approximately a week after. He's in the form of a young child who doesn't remember everything about him at all."

Levi's eyes widened again. "How sure are you that it's him? Let alone it's because of that woman's death?"

"Aside from the fact that he completely looks the same, he's got nothing of himself aside from his first name. When I asked the foster home, that boy came to them a day after that woman died. He appeared out of nowhere, with no traces of people associated with him. What explanation is there aside from that?"

Levi doesn't even know what to say anymore, no follow-up questions and utterances of possibilities. The revelation is quite too overwhelming for him as well and he needs to wind out for now. "Nonetheless, you better tell her in complete detail about what you've done to her mother, Erwin. No matter how everyone here wouldn't take what happened against you, she’s the only one who holds the final verdict because she lived." Levi then grabbed his things in the room so he could finally go out. "Just as you told me that night, I'm neither a soldier nor a thug. You must remember that in yourself too because the only time I'd tolerate that deranged face of yours again is when she's finally buried six feet below the ground." He's in the doorway now and before he finally disappeared at the man, he shot him a glare. "If you dare show it to me again, let alone to her or anyone in this house, might as well go back to where you came from. I wouldn't be able to see you as someone safe to be close with my family by then."

Erwin pondered in silence as he looked down at his palms. He understood it very well and that's the same reason why he feels like laughing at himself now. He always had blood in his hands just because of his mouth and the feeling’s way too normal for him already, too normal that he can’t bring himself to care.

Perhaps not only that woman who laid her hands on you got an inherently wicked existence. That's why he knew how to deal with it when he came for her. He's not any different. 

"You need to come back and stop me from doing something irreversible or if I already did, you have to be there and forgive me."

The bitter laugh was let out, then. Shameless. Utterly shameless. Poor you, to be associated with deranged beings even in this life. Even after sacrificing so much.

Moments after, Isabel finally entered and Erwin let her tend to you as she usually does. She cleaned your body first and after a while, woke you up to drink meds. You've been seated since then. After her task, she sat down on the chair beside your bed and faced Erwin.

She noticed how grim the man's expression is as if he was just mirroring your face. His eyes are only glued to you as well and Isabel can't grasp what he's thinking. He's been like this ever since that happened. It's just that his face is way milder now that your eyes finally opened— she can't even say you're back because you're not. Since you got conscious until this very moment, no one was able to hold a decent conversation with you. If you're not asleep, you’d just stare out of nowhere or mumble incoherent stuff. You could nod sometimes but your muscles aren’t that responsive. What happened earlier is not the first one as well and they're all too scared, too horrified that you'd stay this way forever — gone for good, crippled for the rest of your life.

And thus Isabel looked down at the floor, clenched her fists again, eyebrows curled, and lips pursed all because of worry. "Erwin, uhm, it's been days since you last visited and she's…" Talking to Erwin about you makes her terribly anxious as if she's completely indebted to this man for being negligent all this time. "…still as unresponsive." 

"Is that so," Erwin's gaze didn't leave you. You're staring at the wall with a face not moving at all, just as usual. He lifted your arm to see if you could hold it up this time but as soon as he released it, the limb fell down flatly as if it was dead. It's as if you're a breathing doll. Breathing but dead. "Have she eaten already?"

"Yeah. Recently, I'm able to make her smell the food and then urge her to open her mouth slightly. She could do that much now."

"She's improved a lot, then. Didn't she have any reactions to the utensils you used? Like what she did back at the hospital?"

"I used a plastic spoon this time. We realized she's particularly getting hysterical at the sight of metal spoons and bowls. Odd. She's not afraid of the soup itself. Only with the utensils." Erwin just nodded and didn't say more. He just blandly busied himself by randomly picking on your face to see if a reaction would be pulled out — pinching your cheeks, holding your breath by pinching your nose, gliding his fingers on your eyelids and pulling it up a bit — but nothing happened. Isabel clinched on her knees further. "Recently, Levi told me that you're actually the one who gave him a heads-up about this. When you came here for the first time years ago, you said that you saw a wounded girl buying bandages and disinfectants at the convenience store."

"Levi decided to tell you everything now, I see." He recalled the incident. "I rushed to the counter first to pay it on her behalf and even added some stuff but that's all I was able to do. She looked so out of it, though. It's as if she's in auto-pilot mode. She didn't flinch when the cashier crew said her stuff had already been paid and left without a word. Similar to this, but she was able to walk and grab things somehow."

Isabel gulped the lump forming up in her throat, "And apparently, that's when Levi told us that the wounds she's been getting ever since we're children aren't accidents unlike she claimed so. We tried to slowly gauge her to address the matter at hand but we realized she doesn't remember them at all. On our next attempts, she said she saw it happening in her dream instead." Erwin hummed to acknowledge the redhead's remark. Isabel still can't decipher the look on his face and that alone reverberated her anxiety. It didn't take long until she started crying. It was when Erwin finally looked at her. "I'm so sorry. I was afraid because her mother had custody over her and if my mom confronted her about it, she might take her away from us and we'd never see her again. That's why Mom never knew everything until this happened. My brothers listened to that stupid remark and agreed that we should just take care of her behind the curtains. Look where it got her."

He's already aware of what Isabel just said and if he's on his usual self, he would immediately sense her impending cries — enough to comfort her before she could let them out. However, he's utterly spent right now, too exhausted to channel his astuteness. "It's not your fault. You never wanted this to happen."

"It is. We should've just forced her out of there. I can't believe my brothers listened to such a stupid remark." She hit her head with a hand continuously and sobbed. "Why did they listen to me?"

"The wounds Levi claimed she usually gets aren't grave. It could be classified as some sort of corporal punishment and it's more likely that she'd get away from it as most parents would. She doesn't even remember it herself. I'm not saying that the way you didn't inform Kuchel was right and wise but your fear was valid." Erwin replied and after pondering, added. "And Levi's actions were valid too. All of you are the ones who always rush to her whenever she needs help but Levi still tends to find her primary guardians every time. They're the ones most aware of her medical records and had direct contact with her physicians. You guys did what you could."

"But still, we could've done so much more if…"

"I don't think she'd ever blame you for that. Levi's right. Your remorse will just make her feel worse. She'd think you wouldn't be crippled with guilt if she worked on not being a burden. You should know how her mind works by now." Erwin proceeded to massage your limbs, a habit most people in the house developed since you really don't move most of the time. "Besides, everyone will really end up living with that guilt had she died but she's here instead, and so the present is what we must dwell on. You wouldn't be able to tend to her properly if you're burdened with that, don't you think?" It took time for Isabel to respond and when she finally nodded, Erwin smiled. It's a small one, but the first time she saw it again after a while. "You're one of the greatest reasons why she came back here. Thank you for sticking to her until now."

Isabel almost felt herself crying again as if a thorn finally plucked out of her skin. Erwin wasn't angry at her. Not at all. "You don't have to thank me for that."

Even before Erwin could reply, however, they heard you talk. It's a weak one. He scooted nearer and urged you to repeat it.

"Erwin… Nightmares…"

Isabel shot the man a look but he was as taken aback as she was. You never mentioned anyone's name aside from your mother and brother since you woke up. She scooted nearer as well, "You're not having nightmares, and yeah, Erwin's here."

"It's okay, you don't need to…" You murmured again, your face still dead. "...nightmares about them while holding me." As if you're a robot.

Isabel turned to Erwin again. Despite the shock, he still managed to answer. "Your words are enough for now."

Your response almost made Isabel gasp; you smiled, a genuine one at that.

"Can you go outside first? I'll talk to her." Erwin said to Isabel without shooting her a look. She quickly nodded and excused herself.

You didn't say anything after that so Erwin called your name as if to test the water, "You're back now."

Your face went back to flatness again. "I'll stay here. You don't need to convince me anymore. I'd love to…" Then your words become too incoherent to comprehend.

"That's right. You're here. You're talking to me."

"We can do the things we weren't able to do before. I would love to have that life. Inside the walls." You murmured flatly again.

Never in his life had he imagined himself to be so utterly lost on what to do. What would wake you up? What'd snap you back, perhaps a cue that'd make your mind perceive where you really are? 

After a long while of pondering, he started. "Seems like you ran from Levi's place up to here. That tea helps a lot with relaxation—" He trailed and urged himself to recall more. What did he say to you that day? "…welcome to my class. You may sit wherever."

Slowly but surely, your eyes widened. You're suddenly scared and your breath hitched. He let you process that at first.

When you started calling out for Historia, that's when he cupped your face and turned you to him. "There, there. Finally realized what world you're in now?" You looked completely horrified as soon as your eyes landed on him though. You're on that day again — the first time you met him, the moment you saw the man in your nightmares up front.

He quickly recalled another fragment of conversation to calm you down somehow. He can't afford to make you faint. "…if I get to remember the fact that I charged soldiers to death even by dreams then I have to atone for it." Slowly and fortunately, your reaction changed again. You curled your eyebrows as if questioning what he just said. It was the same one you gave him when he calmed you down at the lantern. 

It's working. "I don’t think we’ll see each other die in this world somehow." He almost choked midway, maybe due to the bitter feeling that remark exuded. Still, he continued. "—perhaps we could take that instead?" Your expression still had a hint of doubt but more relief washed your face now. Just the same one he saw when he picked you up on the road that midnight.

Another one, then, perhaps the last one if fortunate enough. "Setting an equal ground with me will not happen in that room and I'm close to finishing that nightmare. I'm preparing you for it."

"Are you gonna leave me after that?" You suddenly huffed in disbelief. "You said you won't!"

There.

"Try to look around then. Did I leave you?"

Finally, for the first time since you woke up, you looked around your surroundings. He removed his palms on your cheeks and regained his seat to give you air.

Still not done. The grounding is the next one. He asked you to label stuff: five things to see, four things to feel, three things to hear, and more. He made you raise a hand up, and more things to check on your movements.

It took quite a while to finish but when you did everything he asked for, Erwin finally smiled — the first genuine smile he had for a long time. Slowly but surely, he was able to come to terms with his ponders again. Whether or not his existence is inherently wicked, you came back here to forgive him. Like the dearest girl that you are, holding him with so much importance, saving him with your unwavering affection every single time.

He sat on the bed, tipped your chin, and called your name. "You did so, so well. You've been such a strong girl for us. You don't need to worry anymore. Everything's okay now."

It took you a while to reply. When you finally realized everything, you shakily asked. "Really? It is?"

"It is." He went for a kiss, then. A completely gentle one that lasted for a moment, something that both of you thought was gone for good. "Thank you for coming to me again."

The one who started his life selfishly was the one to let go, while the other who embodied selflessness in his entirety clung desperately.

what you wish for the commander, above anything else, is that he'd be happy worlds beyond. if he finds someone in the world where you managed to save him then what is to be sad for? indeed, he knows it well just as he knows you. he did as you want. but then again, what is grief if not love persevering? no matter how able are them to take the world off his shoulders or turn the stormy cloud into a rainbow, there'll still be a glimpse of you lurking around his windows—or perhaps on his own reflection, on the sword, even on his emerald bolo tie—for your existence is a shredding light, always illuminating the dreariest of days.

previous chapter | next chapter

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[astermacguffin]

What if the Mark of Cain manifests differently when it's imprisoning God and not the Darkness? If the Darkness makes the Mark bearer go insane with unbridled want for destruction, then what does sealing God make you do?

An obsessive desire for creation? Creation to the point of corruption? (Think of the Shimmer from the film Annihilation. Continuous reproduction to the point of begetting alien, cancer-like entities. A refracted, distorted notion of creation.)

Okay, so canon divergence from The Trap. They successfully seal away Chuck, then Castiel bears the Mark. (Jack won't be back until later episodes, so he's not here yet.)

At first, they think he's fine. Cas says he's not feeling any bloodlust just yet. (He does feel a certain itch under his skin. Not a desire to murder, but a desire to do...something. He doesn't tell this to anyone.)

His grace is getting stronger, almost archangel-like (if not more). It's incredibly helpful for hunts, and Cas is happy to feel his wings healthy again after a long time. Sam is happy for him, but Dean is suspicious of things (especially since he's a previous Mark bearer).

After a while, Cas starts feeling...burdened, almost bloated by grace. (After all, he does have access to an infinite supply of it.) He needs to have an outlet for it.

Cas tells them so and Sam suggests healing people. Dean gives the green light on the condition that he remains invisible and he doesn't go Godstiel on them again.

It's a great outlet, and for the first few weeks they start feeling normal again. But unfortunately, healing stops being enough to relieve Cas of his excess grace anymore. The mass healings start to pile up all across the globe and it catches everyone's attention. Some think it's a blessed miracle, some think it's a sign of the end times. They make him slow down on the healings after that.

Without an outlet, however, Cas starts feeling antsy and pained. They brainstorm on possible alternatives. Cas suggests going to Heaven and saving it from collapse by healing his brethren's wings and creating more angels out of consenting souls in Heaven.

He explains Heaven's endangered and dwindling numbers. Sam agrees that it would hit two birds in one stone: relieve Cas from excess grace and prevent the extinction of angels. Dean doesn't like the idea of more winged dicks so he shoots down the idea. Eileen says that since Cas is the one in pain, he should be the one to decide.

Ultimately, Cas defers to Dean's judgment (as always). Sam protests, arguing that he can't just shoulder that pain. Cas replies: "I've suffered worse, Sam."

Cas doesn't complain about the pain for about a week, so for a while, everyone believes him when he said he can shoulder the pain. One day, Dean finds him outside the bunker, groaning in pain as he bleeds himself out, his grace pouring into the ground and sprouting plants. Dean sees this and is finally convinced to allow Cas to make more angels.

What follows then is a series of escalating events:

While Sam and Eileen are practicing their witchcraft for spell they need in a hunt, Cas suggests to enhance Sam's physical and magical abilities using his grace. "It will make the process faster and safer," he reasons. He agrees, but Dean eyes this suspiciously.

During one of their hunts, they encounter a young and freshly-turned vampire. The boy begs them not to kill him, and Cas gives him a proposal. "Promise not to feed on humans ever again and I shall cure you of your hungers and your pains. Pledge your allegiance to me and you shall never be afraid of yourself ever again." The boy agrees, and before Dean could even protest, Cas slices his palm and feeds the vampire his grace.

They argue about the grace-feeding in the Impala. Dean notices Sam's pointed lack of complaints and figures it out. "You're in on this, aren't you? How long has Cas been doing this? He's going Michael behind our backs and you're letting him?"

Sam argues that it's different because Cas isn't making super monsters; he's making them less "monstrous" (whatever that means). Sam's obsession with his own "purity" is key to understanding him here.

One time, Dean catches Cas in his "garden" ("forest" seems more apt with how lush the greens already are) creating butterflies and bees out of thin air using his grace alone.

Reports of the miraculously healed people suddenly gaining new abilities like increased strength, heightened senses, and prophecy start popping up. Some are experiencing phantom limbs, talking about their sprouting "wings."

Sam is becoming addicted to Cas' grace to the point that he willingly lets himself be hurt in hunts just so Cas can cure him. Dean confronts him about this, but Sam just argues that he's "never felt this pure before." Eileenn shares the same concern as Dean.

Hunts are becoming less frequent the more monsters are being "cleansed" by Cas. The world is becoming disconcertingly quiet.

Cas' "garden" is starting to emit this strange aura. The plants and creatures growing inside it are starting to look more...alien.

One of the original angels goes to Dean and tells him of Heaven's affairs. The Host is stable again, but the angels he created are...not exactly angels. They're graced up and they sustain Heaven, but their true forms are "horrifying and incomprehensible, even to an angel." The angel adds that more than 60% of Earth's creatures have already been touched by Cas' grace.

The final nail in the coffin is when Dean catches Cas in the garden fiddling with his angel blade. It's emitting a strange glow, vibrating a subtle hum and looking as if it's liquid, flowing and distorting here and there.

Dean asks him what he's holding. "Oh, this?" Cas responds. "This is the Last Blade. Last, not in terms of time but in concept, for no other blade shall ever compare to it. The spark of creation. Fiat lux."

Dean's heart sinks. Of course. The First and the Last, Alpha and Omega. "Cas...the Mark, I think i-it's scrambling your brain, man."

"I know," he replies, eyes wet and apologetic. It's a small moment of lucidity amidst weeks and months of...whatever that was.

"Okay, okay, so you're still you, that's... that's good. Okay." Dean doesn't know how to approach this. Give him a fight and he'll know what to do, but this? Watching his best friend, the love of his life, be distorted into something incomprehensible? Yeah, this is totally beyond him.

"You know, I used to hate Chuck," Cas says. "How could the Father of All Creation be this angry, petulant child? But," he continues, "knowing what I know now, it's either regressing into a petty child or being reduced to insanity."

"Cas...what are you talking about, man?"

"No mind should bear this burden, Dean. No matter how infinite they are," he says, voice trembling in exhaustion.

(more below the cut)

He continues. "The awareness of everything is the awareness of nothing at all. Imagine perceiving every possible piece of information about the world all at once. Seeing light in all its forms all at once: ultraviolet, infrared, etc. Sensing all the neutrinos zip by, sensing gravitational waves, sensing the slighest bit of seismic activity."

Dean doesn't know how to respond, so he lets him go on.

"Knowledge can only ever be a slice of the Totality of Truth. Truth is absolute chaos, and Knowledge is the partial ordering of this chaos. One can sanely approach Truth only through organized paritions of Totality. Why do you think Chuck is so obsessed with stories? Stories are linear and finite; they're sensible snippets of the endless sea of possible worlds."

"So, what? Are you trying to—"

"I'm not trying to justify Chuck's actions, Dean," he interrupts. "I just want to contextualize them. Chuck's simplistic and repetitive narratives are what they are: manifestations of a chaotic Totality, gone insane trying to understand itself. Looking for simple things to hold on to."

Cas takes a deep breath. He speaks with a shaky voice. "I'm barely holding myself together, Dean. I can feel the universe beneath my skin."

He doesn't know what possesses him to ask, but he does it anyway. "What are you holding on to?"

Cas smiles at that. "You."

They stare at each other for a while, frozen where they stand. Cas, with unrestrained affection in his face. Dean, struck by shock and indecision. It's Cas who first breaks the silence.

"I think we both know what needs to be done, while I'm still lucid enough." Cas slices his palm and lets his blood drip down the soil. He then thrusts the Last Blade into the ground, lifting it when the soil glows.

Dean stared in awe as the ground erupts and a familiar shape rises from the hollow. "Is that.."

"The Ma'Lak box, yes. I also enhanced it with the Blade to be able to house things as powerful as me."

"Cas, wait, maybe we can think of another way to—"

"Dean," he says, calmly. "You know there's no other way. I wouldn't ask this of you if there was."

In any other scenario, Dean would've kept arguing, but even he knows that they're running out of time. Sam's grace addiction is getting worse and all the creatures touched by Cas' grace are slowly mutating into eldritch horrors. Dean offers a shaky nod. "Okay."

Tension visibly releases from Cas' body. "Thank you, Dean." He opens the box and enters it with ease. "When you lock this, bury me with the garden's graced soil. Once I'm under, my influence over the world should dampen."

Dean gives a wordless nod. For a while, they just stared at each other, Cas lying down and Dean trying to memorize every inch of his face while he can.

Cas presses his hand into Dean's left shoulder where his mark used to dwell. "My untainted grace," he whisper gently. "Some of it is still inside you. That's probably why you're not as affected by me."

Dean wants to say, I'll always be affected by you, but he holds himself back.

He takes his hand back, a bloody handprint now on Dean's jacket. "I love you, Dean," he says, breathless.

"Cas..."

"I probably would've built up to that if we had more time but," he makes a surprised laugh, "I am, as you would say, already 'losing my marbles', so."

The air quotes would've been funny and endearing in any other scenario, but it just makes Dean's vision blur up with tears.

"Thank you for everything, Dean. I know we've done nothing but repeatedly hurt each other these past few years, but I don't want to spend a deathless eternity with that as my memory of you. I forgive you, even for the things you haven't forgiven yourself for yet. And I'm sorry for everything, especially for ending things like this."

He should probably wipe away his tears to clear his vision, but Dean can do nothing but stare at Cas in awe, in fear, in grief, in reverence. They're both fully crying now.

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Wait, Cas."

Cas looks at him, waiting.

"Can you...can you say it again?"

He doesn't need to clarify what 'it' means. They both know.

With one last mournful smile, Cas says: "I love you, Dean."

And with that, Dean finally gathers all the strength he needs to shut the lid and lock the box. He stares at it for a while, unblinking. He forgot to ask, Can you hear my prayers down there? But it's too late now to ask.

The box automatically lowers itself into the hole it arose from. Now all that's left to do is to cover it again with soil.

Dean doesn't bother with a shovel. He gently buries the box with his hands deep in the soil, some of it getting trapped under his nails. He continues the mindless task, whispering a tireless series of I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I hope you're okay I'm sorry, over and over between his quiet sobs. Cas is quiet inside the box. No screaming or crying. Dean doesn't know if that's better or worse.

When the final clump of soil is pressed into the mound, he suddenly feels it: a visceral shift that echoes throughout the world. The alien glimmer of the garden dims, and the world corrects its axis. Dean screams his agony into the air.

That's how Sam finds him: sprawled over a mound of soil, crying his heart out. Dean doesn't need to say anything: he knows what happened. He pulls his brother off the ground and brings him inside the bunker.

For the first two weeks, Dean cycles through drinking and passing out in various places in the bunker. If he's not wearing the jacket, he's holding it with close to him. Sam gives him a considerable space to grieve while he monitors the world grace problem with Eileen. The grace mutations have significantly dropped since then and everyone's going back to normal.

Unfortunately, that means monsters are getting hungry again. Sam doesn't want to leave his brother alone after going nonverbal with grief and dysfunctional due to alcohol. Eileen assures him that she can handle hunts on their own and that the hunter network that they're building will lessen the workload.

Sam's attempts to sober Dean up finally work, mostly due to the latter having very little strength to protest. Dean remains sober an entire day for the first time in weeks, and all he can think about is: I haven't prayed to Cas in a while. The longing might have reached him, but never a coherent prayer.

The first time he goes out of the bunker in a while, he heads straight to Cas' garden. Sam's glad that he's finally going out because "the sun is good for you" or something, but he's really only here for Cas. He kneels in front of the burial mound (where a patch of an unknown species of flowers is already growing).

The first prayer he says to him in a while is: I love you, Cas. I should've said it while you were still here. Not saying it out loud and just strongly thinking about the words somehow bolsters him to get the words through.

He's crying again, and he knows he's losing coherency. In his mind, he's explaining about his hangups and his regrets and his continuous denial of his own joy, but one constant remains: he's beaming all his love and affection into this prayer.

He's halfway through explaining all the traits that he finds endearing in Cas when suddenly, he feels it like a snap. If the glimmer dimmed when he buried Cas, now it's as if it was never there in the first place. With an unsettling amount of certainty, Dean just knows that Cas is gone. For real, this time.

"C-cas...?" It's the first thing he's said in a while and it sounds rough in his long unused voice.

"CAS! CAS!!! " He's now screaming, ripping away the flowerbed with his bare hands and scratching the soil away. Tears are obstructing his vision, but he has no time to wipe them away. He needs to make sure that is really gone. His hands are bleeding and he doesn't give a damn.

Eventually, Sam comes running towards him. "Dean! Dean, stop!"

He tries to hold his brother back, but Dean just keeps on clawing away soil. "Sammy, Sammy he's gone, he's not there anymore, Sammy I have to see, please, let me see Cas again, I need—" he breaks into sobs again, and like a puppet with its strings cut off, he slumps into Sam.

"Dean, it's okay, it's okay..." he says softly to his shaking brother.

Eventually, when Dean calms down, he looks at the carnage he's done and starts sobbing again. The flowers, his last evidence of Cas being here, are all destroyed. Now Cas truly is gone.

. . .

When Cas first heard Dean's confession prayer, he was overcome with joy. When he realized what that means, however, his stomach suddenly sinks.

He hears before he sees the Empty arrive, slithering like black goo.

"Wow, were you excited enough for eternal slumber that you wanted a preview?" The Shadow teases in Meg's voice.

At first, he was dreading the Empty, but now that he thinks of it, it's actually the perfect prison for him: a vast, endless nothingness for him to fill with his creations.

And if Jack wasn't in Heaven, that only means that he's in the Empty, and he can't wait to see his son again. Even when blinded by the madness of the universe, he can never forget the joy of being a father.

"Yes," he replies, "I'm actually glad you're here now."

. . .

Somewhere around the globe, Billie drops Jack back.

"Don't worry, kid. You'l reunite with your father very soon."

(to be continued)

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

Oct 2021 Wk 2 

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Bite Me Ep 7 (Viki) - The brother was a greta character but the dripping faucet was very stressful for someone living in drought country. Here’s my relationship with this drama: ARGH they are so cute, but so slow, but so cute, but so slow - OH look at the pretty food! - and more cute. 

Don’t Say No Ep 11 (Line) - Episode recaps here. Make it stop. 

My Mate Match (Line) Ep 2 - honestly the “there’s only one bed trope” is particularly amusing in this series. This ep was a little slow but dealing with real world-esk problems for the age bracket which I liked. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love is Science? (Taiwan - BL sub plot Viki) ep 17 - honestly OuWen’s understanding of Marks parents’ reaction, and the way he patiently explains how a child coming out can impact a family’s identity was really beautifully done. These two are such great characters and I love how the narrative keeps twisting the expectations and reactions around their narrative arc counteracting what most BL plot lines would give us. Mark is the bold outgoing one, even though he’s newly queer. OuWen is a confident gay, but he’s the one who practices empathy and explains identity struggles of the hets to his militant boyfriend. You can really see why they love each other. OuWen loves that Mark is willing to fight for him and for them - that’s loyalty, while Mark loves how OuWen changes both Mark and the way Mark views the world - that’s trust. They don’t have much screen time but unlike most BLs we see them slowly developing the foundation for a truly long lasting relationship with honest communication and trust. It’s very grown up or them. 

The Tasty Florida (Korea - Viki) Ep 7 & 8 fin - subs were a bit naff on these final two eps, and the love triangle is a little underdeveloped for the amount of emotion, but then so was this whole series. All in all, I’d call it sweet and fluffy, sunshine boy saves grumpy chef from himself. slightly unnecessary love triangle and everyone was very pretty. RECOMMENDED 

Innocent (Taiwan - grey)  Ep 1-2 - man involved in relationship with a boy with multiple personalities, higher heat, it’s a bit too weird for me. Not sure if I’ll finish it. I do kinda like that the seme is basically: So I’m in a poly relationship with one person? That’s cool I guess. 

Vanishing My First Love AKA Kieta Hatsukoi (Japan - indie subbed) Ep 1 - live action yaoi series that looks to be 10 eps of 25 min each. This is a mistaken identity = love triangle drama. Hashimoto has a crush on Ida. Aoki has a crush on Hashimoto. Aoki finds out the girl he likes is into Ida and through a series of mishaps, Ida thinks Aoki has a crush on HIM. Takes this seriously. All three are very earnest and sweet and trying to do the right thing. Japan can get pretty over-expressive and cartoonish with their manga adaptations and this is no exception. Why does one half of the couple always have to be SUCH A SPAZ? (Yes I AM thinking of Cherry Magic.) I suffered acute second hand embarrassment but I did chuckle, it’s just those chuckles are pretty painful. This is more Ossan’s Love than it is Seven Days but it could go Cherry Magic meets Light On Me if it plays it’s cards right, so I’m sticking with it. Tropes are coming thick and fast, already we got lie loom, wall loom, and rooftop assignation: Japan is apparently back in BL to remind us JAPAN STARTED IT ALL, SUCKERS! 

In Case You Missed It

Love With Benefits got a trailer and is supposed to start on Line (in Thailand) on Nov. 1. It’s another quarantine forced proximity (cohabitation) project with a love triangle. It looks a lot like My Mate Match. First, Play, and Pluto have to stay under the same roof for 10 days. Will love blossom? Stars Gameplay (Ingredients) and Best (I am Your King, Skinship, Check Out). No info on the third and he doesn't’ look familiar to me. Love Triangles are in fashion ya’ll.  (thanks @heretherebedork​ for the tip and @maru-x-idrew​ for the date) 

Strongberry dropped a new K-BL microfilm: Please Tell Me So. It’s a sweet little barista has a crush on his regular and can he work up the courage to confess. As usually from Strongberry tit’s on point a very well done. Go spend 8 minutes with these two cuties. 

Small (but reliable) Thai production house Mandee released their 2022 BL line up (all of which I reported on already but this is MORE data). (I’m moving them off the 2021 report as a result.) 

Cutie Pie (featuring Zee from Why R U?) is an arranged marriage romance which has added established pair MaxNat to their roster. For which we are, of course, eternally grateful. Also new pair of unknowns. For which were a nervous. I don’t like it when a BL has too many pairs in it. Loses focus. 

Middleman’s Love and Bed Friend which used to be the same BL, Middle Love (with the couple from Bed Friend as the side dishes), but seem to have been divided into two smaller BLs instead. Presumably for quarantine reasons. 

Ride or Die released another trailer for Quaranthings 2. 

Boys Lockdown has been in production on season 2. 

(@bengiyo reporting in from the Filipino drama front lines) 

GOSSIP!

New Thai BL NilunDon has been cast and is supposed to air an ep 0 teaser on Oct 31 (Gaga) with 12 eps in the series. Hurt/comfort about a hotel heir who returns to Thailand to deal with a death in the family where he meets and falls in love with a barista. Familiar faces: Nut from 2016′s domestic family trauma-llama BL Grey Rainbow (he’s WONDERFUL, but DON’T WATCH IT) and Tie (from The Effect of all things, also DON’T WATCH IT). There will also be a friends to lovers GL couple. 

Bad Buddy got its official trailer from GMMTV and a drop date of October 29. They pulled the original teaser trailer (which I actually likes better) but I am still very excited for this show. 

Two new Vietnamese BLs in the works! @heretherebedork reporting, of course (our source for all things V-BL). 02 Productions (Nation’s Brother, Most Peaceful Place) is filming Cinderfella and release some BTS footage. 02 is responsible for the 2nd Vietnamese BL we know of in existence, The Ring Goes Missing from 2018, which they are now turning into a full series called The Lost Ring (college kid takes work as a houseboy for rich asshole who falls in love with him). I’ll put both these onto 2022′s master tracking list because there’s no other way to track them, since MDL doesn’t list Vietnamese stuff. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International subs accessibility reasons.

My Sweet Dear starts next week, new Korean BL on Viki!

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

This week’s best moments?

(from the Bad Buddy trailer, look at GMMTV being all cutely self referential.) 

* Sorry this is late, I’m on the move again. 

[kindahoping4forever]

...Ready For It? // Ashton Irwin

Thank you to everyone who said they wanted to read this story, whether it was in the poll I posted 12 hours ago or when I first posted In My Dreams... You Should See The Things We Do back in June (!) - I actually started working on this not that long after I posted and while the skeleton concept stayed the same, everything else was kind of fluid until last month when I finally felt satisfied with it. As always, thank you to @cal-puddies​ for listening to me whine and obsess over every detail and for (virtually) slapping me upside the head every time I said I was going to just scrap it (and there were many times, trust.)

Note this is a sequel but I think there’s enough context within this piece that you’d be able to enjoy as a standalone if you haven’t read or forgot what happened during In My Dreams...

Warnings: Sexual tension, frustration and resolution. I couldn’t figure out how to do specific warnings without also spoiling the narrative (yes, really) so this is kind of a blanket fluffy smut warning. The sex is explicit in detail but not extreme in nature. ‘Tis a soft, dirty story you’re about to read. Also yes, Ash wears the mountain pants again and no, I will not apologize. 

Word Count: 10,555

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and New 2021 Taglist linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

“I can’t say this is how I imagined getting you out of your clothes for the first time but after months of isolation, I’ll take what I can get,” you quip.

Ashton giggles as he peels off his button down shirt, leaving him in a classic white tank. “I can’t say anything about tonight has gone the way I imagined it would,” he confesses. “I’m sorry things have been kind of a bust.”

You try not to blatantly ogle his muscular build as you playfully jab, “You mean, you didn’t spend all that time longing for us to spend hours waiting outside a restaurant for a socially distant table only to be turned away because now it’s closing time and ending up having to eat drive thru burgers in the backseat of your car?”

“With ketchup dripping all over one of my best shirts? And you saving the day with a suspiciously convenient stain remover pen?” He riffs, passing his top to you.

“Exactly how I pictured it,” you shrug, dabbing at his shirt with the aforementioned magic pen.  “Shame, our fantasies tend to match up a lot better than this.”

You’d never thought much of long distance relationships and you especially never thought you’d find yourself in one with only a few miles separating you but 2020 had been full of surprises; getting to know Ash had turned out to be the silver lining in an otherwise terrible year. 

You’ve each reflected on it plenty and agreed it seems as if your connection was destined to see you both through this strange period. You met at the last party you were invited to before quarantine started, you ran into each other again at the last concert either of you got to attend. Your first date was also your final restaurant meal, the last time you went to a movie was with a group of mutual friends and you sat next to him, giggling like a teenager, intentionally brushing his fingers in the popcorn tub.

When the stay at home order was issued, it didn’t take long for you to check in with each other and while it wasn’t an easy time, you were grateful to build a bond with literally no outside influence. And now after countless texted inside jokes, heart to heart phone calls (and more than a few naughty ones), restrictions had been relaxed and you were finally able to reunite. Only the real world is proving to be a bit more complicated than either of you remember.

“You know, I’m not usually a ‘hop in the backseat on a first date’ kind of gal, but this is pretty fun,” you joke.

Ashton grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I think technically this is maybe our third or fourth date?”

“Anything pre-quarantine doesn’t count,” you shake your head insistently. “That was a lifetime ago, another world. I cook now, I go for walks, I do crosswords now. Whoever you went out with in The Before Times - I don’t know her.”

His loud laugh fills the car and the warmth of it overwhelms you; after months of hearing it through a speaker, you can’t believe you’re finally getting to witness it in person. 

"So if we’re starting over at square one, then what’s the explanation for that kiss you laid on me when I picked you up?” He teases.

“I’m a complex woman, I feel like you should know that by now,” you reply with a coy shrug, handing him his now stain free shirt.

The two of you finish your meals, chatting happily and making non-stop jokes about what a fail your date was. You’re relieved at how natural things are flowing; you knew there was undeniable chemistry but part of you was still nervous about getting used to being around each other - another person, even - again. But beyond the standard date jitters, things were comfortable and familiar.

Your anxiety briefly returns as he pulls the car into your driveway. Of course you want to invite him in, you’ve been waiting so long to invite him in but things just feel… off. You turn, ready to offer an apologetic goodnight but before you get a chance, he’s turning to look at you sheepishly.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but would you mind if we maybe called it a night?” He rushes out, nervously running a hand through his hair. You watch him, fascinated. You’re still not used to how long his hair got in quarantine and you’re definitely not used to seeing him bashful. “I know we joked about it and I appreciate you being cool about everything but I really did want to give you the night out you deserve… and that just didn’t happen. I’d like to try again.”

Your heart swells at his sincerity; he’d always been so genuine and open over the phone, but it’s almost overwhelming experiencing it while he’s looking into your eyes. “Have I never told you that ketchup stains are one of my biggest turn ons?” You tease, hoping to ease some of his obvious embarrassment. “Hey, we’ve waited this long, what’s a little bit longer?”

A little bit longer ends up being the following weekend. It turns out, coming up with romantic and yet responsibly distanced date ideas is harder than either of you thought. With you both having the luxury of working from home and generally not having to venture out unless absolutely necessary, you both decide you’re most comfortable with eliminating the public out of the equation as much as you can.

You settle on a short hike followed by a picnic and when you open your front door you realize just how unprepared you are for the concept of Morning Ash. You smile to yourself as you realize that he must have overslept as his face is still adorably puffy from sleeping, hair still wet from the shower. Yesterday’s five o’clock shadow is still present - he must have been running so late he had to forego his morning shave. The thought of waking up next to him looking like this pops into your mind, that soon you could be the reason he’s running late in the morning and your stomach actually drops.

You push your thoughts aside as you move to greet him with a hug; his cologne is prominent and obviously freshly sprayed and you think to yourself that you're excited to smell like him for the rest of the day.

“Got a surprise for you in the car,” he murmurs.

You’re in the middle of wondering how he makes even a simple white t-shirt look devastating when he opens the passenger door for you. Before you even climb in, you’re instantly greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast burritos and he chuckles at the way your face lights up. 

“Flowers seemed too formal for a morning date, I figured caffeine and grease was just as nice.” 

“I’ve never felt more seen by a partner,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sweet, slow kiss. 

You start to pull away to get in the car but Ashton snakes his arms around you and draws you back in for a few more smooches. “Figure we should get as many of these in as we can now, those burritos are no joke,” he laughs.

It’s a bit of a drive to get to a hiking trail that seemed unlikely to be crowded but you don’t mind. After months of waiting to be in this man’s presence, the more time you can spend with him the better. The trip passes quickly, with the two of you basking in each other’s company, play-arguing over playlists and agreeing that “when this is all over” you should plan a road trip together.

“Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” he observes, pulling the car into the empty lot. He’s first out of the car and you hear a distinct “UGH” from him as soon as he steps out. He sees your puzzled look through the windshield as he walks around to your side to open your door. “I didn’t expect it to be so fuckin’ hot,” he explains.

You get out and instantly scrunch up your face as a gust of hot wind breezes over you. “Well, we did travel more inland, I guess it makes sense it’d be a little warmer,” you reason. 

You commiserate about the weather and then Ash starts gathering your things from the trunk of the car, taking non-essentials out of your backpacks since the heat is going to make your hike a lot less leisurely than planned. 

Despite the weather, the first portion of your hike is nice: you stroll and talk, enjoying the scenery and your time together. Ashton brought his camera with him and you catch him sneaking a few photos of you along the trail so you teasingly start snapping an excessive amount of pics of him using your phone.

As you get closer to the area you planned on stopping at for lunch, the heat starts getting more and more intense. The morning clouds have now dissipated and the sun is bright and unrelenting, causing the conversation to drag as you both start breathing a little more labored, focusing on getting to your stopping point as quickly as possible. It takes a lot longer than expected and by the time you reach your picnic spot, you’re both exhausted and covered in sweat.

You spread a blanket on the ground and immediately throw yourself on it, grateful for a chance to rest. You look up and see Ash peeling off his t-shirt and draping it over a rock in hopes it will dry before you have to head back.

Normally you’d be silently reprimanding yourself for staring at his bare flesh on display but truthfully all you’re thinking about is how much skin he’s exposing to the sun. “Think we left the sunscreen in the car,” you declare, sitting up to dig through your stuff. “As much as I’m enjoying the show, you’re gonna get fried if you don’t throw that back on.”

He sprawls out on the blanket next to you. “We’re shaded, it’ll be fine,” he insists, pulling his sweat-soaked hair back with a rubber band from his wrist.

The picnic is pleasant but far from the romantic adventure you’d envisioned. You’d hoped the two of you would be laughing under a tree, eating a delicious meal as an equally delicious breeze grazes your skin. The reality is the two of you sitting in silence because you’re so uncomfortable under the unforgiving sunshine, eating food that you would’ve preserved better had you known about the weather, as a hot wind scorches your skin. The part of you that had fantasized about sneaking in a heated makeout can’t get enough of the irony that this date is definitely heated, just not in the way it should’ve been.

With the peak temperature of the day still to come, you agree to call it and head for the car already; Ash puts his shirt back on and you notice him wincing as he moves his obviously sunburned skin, but you choose to say nothing.

The trek back is quiet, both of you physically drained and a bit mentally defeated at yet another date gone awry. At one point, you stop in a shaded area to catch your breath and you give him a quick kiss. “Had fun,” you say quietly. He offers you a soft smile in return.

The drive home is equally lowkey, the discontent and exhaustion of the day filling where there should be sexual tension. He knows the mood has deflated considerably so he doesn’t even ask you to come back to his, he just drives you home. 

The car pulls into your driveway and you turn to him. “Think we’re cursed or something?” Your voice is joking but he can detect the undertone of worry.

Ash gives you a bright smile that’s instantly a comfort. “Nah… maybe cursed with too much ambition and insufficient planning skills but I have no doubt this is exactly where I’m meant to be.” He reaches for your hand, interlacing your fingers and kissing your knuckles.

He walks you to your door and gives you a long kiss that almost has you reconsidering inviting him in. “We got this,” he whispers. 

You ruffle his hair. “I’ve also got aloe you can borrow for these sunburns, how are you even able to move?” You laugh, unlocking your door.

A few days pass before either of you broach the subject of another date; you’re finally the one to bring it up and you both agree on a simple dinner at home for the next night.

“Third time’s a charm, right?” You joke as he opens the door.

He draws you in for a slow kiss as you step inside. You murmur when you feel his facial hair brush against you; his beard is fuller than when you last saw him and you suspect he may have quit shaving simply based on the reaction you’d had to the look on your date. “Well, we’re already off to a good start, I’d say,” he comments against your lips.

You’ve only ever seen Ashton’s house in the background of your video chats and when he notices you looking around with fascination, he excitedly offers to give you a tour. You swear you can actually hear your heart going pitter patter as he proudly escorts you around, sharing funny memories about his friends involving each room or telling elaborate stories about different trinkets he owns. You can tell he’s missed entertaining people in his home and you’re so happy that you’re able to fill that void for him tonight.

You follow him to the kitchen. “Smells amazing, must be quite the dish,” you tease, knowing full well you sent him the “secret” recipe for your grandma’s spaghetti sauce the night before. He pokes at you and you giggle, “Anything I can do to help?”

“The groceries should be delivered any minute,” he answers, checking his phone. “There’s gloves and sanitizer wipes under the sink if you don’t mind taking care of that when it arrives.”

A few minutes later, you peck his cheek as you pass by to go outside and tend to your assignment. Ash nearly spirals when it’s discovered that the shopper made some substitutions without asking but you reassure him that dinner’s not ruined even if the sauce uses regular sugar instead of brown and will be poured over fettuccine noodles instead of spaghetti. 

“Not to jinx anything but I think this is our best first date yet,” you joke after dinner, getting out two coffee mugs from the cabinet he’d directed you to.

“All we had to do was eliminate the variables: other people, the weather, the outside world in general,” he ticks off the list on his fingers with a smile.

You hit the brew button on the coffeemaker and slide closer to where he stands loading the dishwasher. “Well. Just proves that all we really need is each other,” you muse, with a sweet smile. He grins at you, drying his hands so that he can cradle your face and kiss you. His hands are soft from the soap he just used and you sigh approvingly into his mouth as his thumb draws circles on your cheek.

That flirty but sweet tone continues as you move to the living room; you sit on the couch, drinking your coffee, chatting comfortably. You both keep finding reasons to scoot closer together, a thick layer of tension between you. You’d each talked a big game when sharing fantasies about what your first time might be like but now that it might be here, you’re surprised by the hazy combination of excitement and nerves you feel.

It’s hard to say who makes the first move: there’s a lull in the conversation and then suddenly, a kiss. Ashton’s hands quickly make their way into your hair and before long, things get heated and you find yourself climbing into his lap to straddle him. This was about as far as things had gotten between you pre-quarantine and it’s as glorious as you remember.

You roll your hips above him and he groans into the mark he was leaving on your neck; your shirt rides up with your movements and his fingers softly dance over the exposed skin. As you nibble along his jaw, his hands find their way up the back of your shirt and you shiver at his warmth. You put your hands on his wrists, guiding them up, letting him know it’s OK to take your shirt off; he does and you silently thank your past self for wearing one of your pretty bras tonight. 

“So beautiful, baby,” he breathes and then his mouth is back on yours, hands busy exploring the new skin on display for him. You shift your hips again and this time find yourself the one to groan, feeling him hard beneath you for the first time; you’ve spent a lot of time wondering what this would feel like and it’s more intoxicating than you ever could’ve imagined.

Ash lifts you off his lap and lays you back on the couch, peeling his own shirt off before moving to be on top of you. He kisses you hungrily and then makes his way down your body, the scratch of his beard deliciously teasing you, lips pecking over every inch of your neck before they attach to the tops of your breasts.

You pull him back up to your mouth and slide your hands down to unbuckle his belt. You brush over his length through his jeans and nearly gasp at the contact; you know he’s not even fully hard and he feels huge. This revelation has you getting impatient and you attempt to push his pants down. "Jesus dude, are these painted on or what?" You joke, struggling.

 "Hey, I could ask you the same thing," he retorts, running his hands along your ass to prove his point. With a goofy smile, he asks, "Should we pause and de-pants ourselves?" 

You laugh as you untangle yourself from his body and pull your pants off while he does the same. He eyes your matching lace lingerie and teases, "That’s some mighty fancy underwear you've got on there, Miss ‘Let’s Take The Pressure Off And Not Expect Anything To Happen Tomorrow Night’.”

You feel your cheeks warming at both his gawking attention and his implication you were hoping things would end up this way. You playfully fire back, "Maybe I dress like this all the time, you don't know me… or maybe I wanted to feel sexy for myself tonight." You try to pull him into a kiss but he pulls back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Or maybe I'm really behind on laundry and I only have the nice stuff left," you say with a sheepish giggle. 

“That I believe,” he laughs delightedly. "Whatever the reason, you look fucking incredible.”

You intend to murmur a thanks but the way his kisses are currently being  peppered in between your breasts causes it to come out as a moan instead. His fingers toy with the closure of your bra and he looks at you to softly ask, “May I?”

You nod enthusiastically and close your eyes as his mouth acquaints itself with your bare breasts, your hands tangling in his hair. Your mouths find each other again, tongues familiarizing themselves with every detail of each other. You reach between your bodies and grip the tent in his underwear; you trace the shape of him through the material and he breaks your kiss to let out a strained moan. “God, I can’t wait to make you cum,” you murmur, a bit surprised by your own boldness.

You feel Ash breathe deeply, affected by your words. “Well, I’m afraid I have a strict ‘ladies first’ policy in this house, so I clearly need to get started,” he jokes, attempting to steady himself. “Bedroom?”

He helps you off the couch and you start to reach for your discarded clothes but he pulls you along, shaking his head. “You won’t be needing those for a while,” he grins.

You follow him to his room, impressing yourself with how steady on your feet you are, how calm you feel; your heart is racing but it’s from anticipation instead of uncertainty, which is unusual for you when you’re about to sleep with someone new. You tend to make these decisions impulsively, with a bit of a “fuck now, ask questions later” attitude. The fact that you’ve waited for this long to be with him and that you feel totally at ease, wandering through his upstairs hallway in just your panties, is the latest in a series of signs telling you that your feelings for Ashton are different.

You settle on the bed while he pauses in the doorway, fiddling with the dimmer on the light switch, determined to get it just right. He finally comes over and you don’t waste any time, climbing over to the edge of the bed to pull off his boxers. His cock springs free and you bite your lip, hoping you’re not actually drooling like you fear you might be.

“You good?” He goads you with a smug smile. During a couple of your video romps, you’d gotten yourself off with toys and he teased you about your selections, calling you a size queen. As you find yourself fascinated surveying the notable length and girth in front of you, you have to admit, he’s not wrong.

You silence his remarks by leaning forward and tentatively licking his tip, closing your eyes in satisfaction when you taste a drop of precum. You roll your tongue around the head, tracing every curve and ridge with your tongue. When you get comfortable enough to wrap your lips around him and slowly start taking him into your mouth, he quietly breathes your name, brushing your hair out of your face, and you feel like you could cum right then and there.

He senses your eagerness and lets you work for a bit longer before he gently pulls you off with a heavy sigh. "Ladies first, remember?" He rasps, flashing you a dazzling smile that would've made you weak even if he wasn't naked in front of you.

He gestures for you to lay back as he kneels at the edge of the bed, dragging his beard across your thighs before hooking his thumbs in your panties to slowly pull them off. You close your eyes, a blissful, close-mouthed smile decorating your face. Ash groans, gazing up at you. “Do you have any idea how many times I laid in this bed picturing what it’d be like to have you here like this?” He asks, raising himself up to kiss you passionately. “Better than I ever could’ve imagined.” 

His lips travel back down your body and you’re so caught up in how dreamy it is to finally feel him like this, you don’t notice he’s already made it back down your body and you cry out when his tongue licks a bold stripe up your center. You’re almost certain you feel him smile against you, proud of the reaction he’s achieved. 

You run your hands through his long hair, trying your best not to tug at it too much, although you suspect he might enjoy that. He alternates between soft, fluttering licks at you and long, intentional strokes, using every centimeter of his wide tongue. It’s overwhelming but you breathe deeply, trying to maintain control; it’s when he wraps his lips around your clit and starts sucking that you start writhing, your legs involuntarily closing in around his head and you tap at him to get his attention.

He immediately pulls back. “Too much?” He reassuringly squeezes your ankle, looking at you encouragingly. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart, wanna do what I can to make you feel good.”

You sit up on your arms, lightheaded from both pleasure and his care. “Ash, oh my god, it feels amazing,” you insist, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I just… I really wanna cum with you in me... and I can’t always go for two… and it was feeling so good right now…”

Ashton leans up, pausing your nervous rambling with a sweet kiss. “Hey, it’s all good, I’m glad you told me,” he soothes. “Do you want to go ahead or do you need more time? We can do something else to get you ready. Your call.” 

You grin and guide his hand to run along your wet folds. “I think this qualifies as ready, don’t you?” 

“Alright, cheeky girl,” he teases, casually lifting his fingers from your wetness to his mouth, tasting you on them. “Still, there’s lube in the left nightstand if you want to get it out just in case.”

“Gentlemanly offer and a brag at the same time, I’m into it,” you laugh.

He giggles loudly, moving off the bed. “Gotta grab the condoms,” he explains, leaving the room.

You retrieve the bottle of lube like he suggested and tidy the bed up a little bit, adjusting the pillows to make yourself comfortable. He’s gone for what feels like a long time but you chalk it up to your excitement for what’s about to happen. You sit back, surveying the room, making mental notes about different things you want to ask him about later. Finally, you hear him call your name from down the hall and you curiously holler back at him.

He pops his head in the room, looking mildly panicked. “Please tell me you saw a box of condoms in the groceries you put away,” he inquires breathlessly.

Your heart sinks. “Um… no? I didn’t,” you take a steadying breath, bracing yourself for what seems like very bad news. “It was mostly food. And the napkins we used. Toothpaste I put in the bathroom. No condoms.”

Ash inhales sharply, nodding rapidly, which unsettles you; he comes to sit on the edge of the bed and drags his hands over his face and through his hair. “Well. This is just never gonna fucking happen, I guess,” he declares dramatically. You feel weirdly exposed now that the mood has shifted and you reach for a blanket to cover yourself with before you crawl over to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting him know you’re there. He smiles sadly and strokes over your hair. “I’m so sorry, baby. I hadn’t dated in a while and then with lockdown… I didn’t know until yesterday what I had was expired so I tossed them and ordered some today… and they’re just… not here,” he says regretfully.

You chew your lip, evaluating how you should respond; you’re disappointed, obviously - very disappointed - but Ashton is clearly upset with himself and you don’t want to make him feel any worse. “I suppose it’d be irresponsible of me to suggest we ignore this road block by employing the old ‘spray and pray’ method?” You joke… at least you think you’re joking.

He snorts, turning to look at you with a smile on his face, which makes you feel better about things. “I’m sure you’re not serious but no, after all this time, after we finally had the perfect date, no, I’m not going to pull out and ‘spray and pray,’ he chuckles.

You smile back at him. “Well,” you start flirtatiously, “I meant it when I said I couldn’t wait to make you cum.” Your fingers dance along his bare thigh, travelling close to his softened cock. “We can still fool around, if you want.”

He looks at you fondly, squeezing your hand on his leg. “I really don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Ash, as sweet as you are, this is an entirely selfish act on my part, I really just want you to moan for me,” you smirk, moving to sit back against the pillows. “Plus this is possibly the most turned on I’ve ever been and if I don’t get off soon, I might actually die.”

Grinning, he crawls up the bed and settles in next to you. “Well. Can’t have that, now can we?” He teases in a low voice, kissing you with an intoxicating restraint. “Got anything particular in mind?” He feels you sigh against him as he gets his mouth on your neck and his hand on your breast.

It takes you a second to find your voice again, still getting used to the novelty of being able to feel his touch. “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind getting my mouth back on you,” you confess with heavy breath. “Or we could just, you know, play with each other.” You slide your hand down to find his cock, lightly rubbing your fingertips up and down his shaft, feeling it start to rise for you again.

Ash groans and throws his arm around your shoulders, turning so that you’re cradled into his side. Your hand lazily drags over his length while he holds you, kissing you with a renewed intensity. The arm around you softly massages your shoulder while his free arm is exploring your body: palming your breasts, twirling your nipples, fingers caressing the rise and fall of your tummy. 

He breaks the kiss as his hand makes its way between your legs, tentatively brushing along your inner thigh, watching you closely as his fingers move to trace your lips and then your folds. He swirls through your wetness and then gently starts rubbing your clit; your hand instantly stills on him and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“This feel alright?” He asks, studying your face. 

You take your free hand and place it on his, encouraging him to apply more pressure. “So good, Ash,” you murmur, raising your mouth to his again, eager to have his affection completely enveloping you.

You resume your motion on his cock, stroking him firmly, listening for the hitches in his breath or gentle grunts to tell you that your instincts of how to please him are correct. You try to recall what you can from the months you spent watching him touch himself online; you vividly remember him twisting over the tip while he used his other hand to cradle his balls. You give it a try and he lets out a loud moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

The two of you familiarize yourselves with each other’s bodies, savoring the noises you’re pulling from each other because although it’s not the first time you’ve ever heard them, it’s the first time they’re being caused by you. 

Ashton’s fingers tease along your entrance and you can’t breathe out a “Please” fast enough; he slides two fingers inside and starts thrusting. He starts with a moderate pace but you’re so worked up, you’re bucking against his hand almost immediately, overwhelmed at the thought of some part of him finally inside you.

You try your best to keep jerking him off but it’d be an understatement to say you’ve become distracted as his fingers move in you; you whisper an apology as you let go of him, starting to lose control, digging your nails into his bicep, whining at how you can feel it flex from the way he’s working your body. 

Ash can’t get enough of how receptive you are to him so when you mutter out another “Sorry” upon realizing how red the skin around his snake tattoo is from you holding on to him, he squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. “Listen, you can scratch that thing clean off if it means I’m making you feel that good,” he teases, nipping at your neck. “Are you as close as it sounds like you are?”

You’re sure your cheeks must already be flushed but you still feel them warm up at the implication that he recognizes your noises from quarantine. You nod, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

"Do you need something different to help you finish or keep this up?" He asks, understanding in his eyes.

You groan and jump as his fingers hit your spot again. "Um, actually I think I’d like if you went back to just my clit."

He nods, following your instructions. He rubs careful circles, checking your face to see if he’s getting the pressure right. You start to tuck your face into Ashton’s chest to minimize your reactions but he tenderly pulls you back to lay with him, stroking his hand through your hair to soothe you as he feels you start to shake in his arms. “God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this,” he praises, sucking below your ear. “Let me hear you, baby, you always sound so good when you cum for me.”

His raspy affirmations work in perfect tandem with the vigorous movement of his fingers and you begin to unravel. You breathily cry out his name as your back rises off the bed and your hands fly out on either side of you, one gripping the sheets, the other grabbing for his arm again.

Your hips buck, riding the waves of pleasure surging through your body. Ash watches you carefully, continuing to work you until he detects a slight wince of overstimulation and he removes his hand, deciding to kiss you through the rest of your orgasm. 

Your body finally relaxes and while you’re definitely exhausted, you’re also eager to satisfy him in return. While he presses kisses over your face, whispering quiet praises as you settle, your hands move to explore his body again, one caressing at his chest and abs, the other taking hold of his cock, making good use of the precum he released while playing with you, starting to build momentum again.

He groans, closing his eyes, losing himself in your touch. You can't resist shifting slightly to travel down his body, pecking your way down his stomach, nibbling at his hips before moving your lips back to his cock. You suckle at the head and the throaty "Baby" you receive in return is already worth your trouble.

Ashton traces designs on your back while you suck him off; he constantly murmurs encouragement, which you appreciate because your heart is racing, this is the first time tonight you've felt truly nervous. You've always enjoyed giving head but you've fantasized about blowing Ash for so long you were slightly afraid it might not live up to expectations - for the both of you, since you'd shared many fantasies with him.

You try to pace yourself, not wanting to get greedy and take too much at once, using your hand to make up for what your mouth can't handle yet; every time you pull off to catch your breath and check in with him, he sweetly wipes at your mouth with his thumb and it's much cuter than it should be, considering the situation.

You bob along his shaft a few more times, fluttering your tongue along the underside, finding a particular vein you remember him paying special attention to. Your memory serves you correct and he emits a surprised whimper. He squeezes your shoulder a few times and you pull off curiously.

"Want your mouth on mine when I cum," he rasps.

You quickly reclaim your place laying in his arms, kissing him as requested. It’s just a few tugs until his breathing starts to stutter against your lips. "Fuck, yes, cum for me, Ash," you murmur, letting out a little moan yourself when you feel his cock throb in your hold.

Ash huffs out short belabored breaths as he moves his hand down to join yours, showing you how to work through his orgasm, adjusting slightly so that his cum shoots on to his own stomach instead of yours.

You lightly kiss him through it until he pulls your hand off of him, lacing his fingers in yours, squeezing briefly. You lay back in his arms, basking in the intimacy of the moment.

He pecks your forehead before he regrettably pulls away from you to gesture towards the tissue box on the bedside table. “Would you mind?”

You start to reach for it and then pause, deciding you’re comfortable enough to make a request. “Actually… could I…?” You trail off, raising your eyebrows as you steal a glance at his torso.  

Ashton chuckles out a surprised “OK” and then you’re quickly shuffling down his body to get your mouth on his cum covered skin. He breathes in sharply when he feels your warm breath on him and his stomach flutters under your tongue as you clean him up, blissfully humming as you discover his taste.

Your hair falls in your face and he brushes it out of the way, not wanting to miss a second of what you’re doing. When you’re finished, you sit up and daintily wipe your mouth with your fingertips. You catch a glimpse of Ash looking downright dazed, chest still heaving from his orgasm, eyes glazed over from watching you eagerly volunteer to lick up his release.

With the heat of the moment having passed, you start feeling slightly self-conscious about your boldness. “Was that over the top? I feel like that was too much for a first time, oh my god,” you laugh, hands covering your face nervously. “I just… on our calls, every time I would watch you cum, I would just… think about it…” You shake your head, surprised at your own behavior.

He laughs and reaches for you, kissing the top of your head as you lay against him. "Just the right amount of 'too much', trust me." His voice gets deeper as he leans in to whisper, “I’d thought about it too, for the record. As fuckin’ hot as I’d thought it’d be.”

You lay quietly wrapped up in him for a bit longer and when you move to get out of bed, he grabs your hand, squeezing it gently. “D’ya wanna stay tonight?” He asks, hazel eyes swimming with sweetness and sincerity. “I didn’t want to jinx it and get stuff for breakfast but I was thinking we could order in.”

You smile brightly, leaning in to peck his lips. “You can finally make me your famous coffee you’re always bragging about,” you tease.

“It’s disgusting, you’ll love it,” he grins, playfully pinching your ass as you get out of bed.

The next morning you wake up to the feeling of Ash climbing back into bed beside you. You open one eye and look him up and down suspiciously. “Where have you been?” You murmur.

He settles on his side, pulling you closer to him so your faces are inches from each other, at the edge of your respective pillows. “Ordered breakfast already, had to go unlock the front gate,” he explains, voice still thick with sleep. He strokes your hair and smiles at how you close your eyes, melting into his touch. “Sleep OK, baby?”

You feel your lips curl into a dreamy smile; you already knew you loved hearing him call you that but hearing it in his deep morning voice is fucking transcendent. “To be honest, it’s been so long since I slept next to someone, I wasn’t sure how it was gonna go at first,” you laugh, scooting closer. “You’re warm, though, which was nice.” 

“Well at least I have that going for me,” he jokes with a mock pout, which you promptly move in to kiss right off his face. You enjoy a sleepy, slow makeout for a few minutes and then he pulls away. 

He takes a deep breath before quietly saying, “Hey… I wanted to apologize for how I acted last night with the whole condom thing. I just got so frustrated because it seemed like we’d finally gotten it right… but that kind of negativity has no place in our relationship. Especially in a situation like that where you were feeling disappointed and vulnerable as well. So I’m sorry.”

“Ash,” you whisper softly. You take in the sight of him: long, dark curls darting out every which way from sleeping, scruffy beard you’re still certain he grew just for you, lips swollen from your kisses. His eyes are gorgeous as always but you can see the concern and remorse behind them and you feel like you can’t put him at ease soon enough. “You don’t have to apologize, it was disappointing and you don’t have to be Mr. Positivity 24/7 if you don’t feel like it. Not for me. I’d rather know how you’re really feeling.” 

“I guess I thought this would be easier. We’ve had so long to think about being together and to plan for it and it’s just been a constant let down,” he admits.

You chew your lip. “Well, listen. Last night still worked out? We still got to be intimate, I still got to experience waking up next to you. Sort of,” you tease. He cracks a smile and you couldn’t be more thankful. “But what you just said, maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe because we had so much time to think about this, maybe we’ve built it up too much in our minds and we’re just setting ourselves up to be disappointed.”

He nods, mulling over your words. “Like the fantasy was important during lockdown but now it’s tripping us up. If we were in more normal circumstances, we would’ve just slept together without much thought.”

“You really think your game’s that good?” You joke and he pinches you in response. “You’re right, though, I haven’t thought this much about a first time since I was a virgin.”

“So we need to find a middle ground between this idealization we’ve invented and doing it just to get it over with,” he suggests.

“Exactly,” you peck his lips in encouragement. “At the end of the day, it’s just sex. I’ve been looking forward to being with you, not to some super romantic, candlelit lovemaking experience at the end of a dream date.” “Whenever it happens, it’ll be perfect because we’re perfect,” he smiles.

The two of you carry that mentality with you throughout the next couple weeks. You hang out, go on a couple dates and even end up having a spontaneous video sex session like old times. You still burn with desire nearly every time he’s near you but removing that looming pressure to set the mood really does help put you at ease with each other. You feel more connected than ever, like you’re able to focus on him now instead of the experience.

“The drive-ins are opened back up now,” Ashton mentions during your afternoon call. “Think you might wanna catch a movie tonight?”

“God, remember movies? That could be fun,” you agree.

“A buddy of mine went last weekend, opened up the hatchback, put a bunch of pillows down, made it nice and cozy. Thought I might ask if I could borrow his car… we could have a little picnic back there before the movie,” he proposes.

You smile to yourself, loving how excited he gets planning dates. “Better bring your comfiest hoodie for me to steal, we’re gonna get fuckin’ snuggly.”

Ash loves a good reveal so when he picks you up, he’s sure to walk you around the front of the car so you don’t peek in the back of the mini SUV. You have fun teasing him on the way there, adjusting the mirrors, exaggeratedly acting like you’re glancing over your shoulder; watching his eyes go wide and hearing his stern “Hey!” simply never gets old. 

Amused as he is by your game, Ashton knows how to tease you right back and when you arrive at the drive-in, before he gets out of the car to finish setting up, he offers you a kiss and a quiet warning of “Be good” that basically guarantees you’ll stay in your seat until he says otherwise.

After a few minutes, he finally calls you back there and you’re blown away at the elaborate transformation. He pops the hatchback up to reveal the back rows of seats have all been laid flat and a thin layer of memory foam lays across them, covered by piles and piles of blankets. Pillows of every shape and size adorn the setup, along with a small cooler and a tote of movie snacks. In the center of the makeshift bed is the pizza you picked up for dinner and two champagne flutes filled with your favorite soda.

“Ash,” you coo as you climb into the back of the car. “This is so fucking cute? You said your friend put some pillows down, not made an entire love nest back here.”

“Well, I may have embellished a little,” he chuckles modestly, following you inside. “One of our first hang outs was at a movie, so I thought our grand return should be special.” 

You grin as you serve pizza onto each of your plates. “That feels like that was a thousand years ago but I still remember the chill that ran down my spine every time you leaned over the armrest to whisper some comment about the movie.”

“Yeah? I remember being nervous because I couldn’t tell if you were aroused or annoyed, to be honest,” he laughs. 

“Oh it was definitely both at first. You talked a lot and I didn’t pay LA ticket prices to hear your commentary track,” you giggle, playfully shoving his shoulder as his jaw drops. “But then I decided I really liked how it felt to have you pay attention to me.”

“And of course what I was saying was clever and enlightening and added to your cinematic experience,” he adds on with a smirk.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, raising your eyebrows in exaggeratedly mocking agreement. He flicks your leg in response and you yelp, unable to keep from smiling at him. The two of you continue reminiscing and making easy conversation while you devour your pizza dinner. By the time you’re done, the sun is setting.

You lay back on the pillows you’ve propped up and watch intently as Ash gets rid of the pizza box at a nearby trash can. You’d both agreed that the dress code for tonight was ‘comfort’ and he went with a black t-shirt and an endearingly bizarre pair of lounge pants that feature a mountain landscape illustrated across the legs. Unsurprisingly, the t-shirt hugs his chest and biceps, drawing attention to the tattoos up and down his arms that you haven’t been able to keep your hands off of. What is surprising is how the loose pants still cling to his body in all the right ways - pulling across his thick thighs and ass, making you wonder if he’s keeping things in his pockets or if the bulging in front you’re seeing is all him. You squeeze your legs together, pleased that he’s almost back at the car, eager to feel him, even if it’s just for a snugged up movie date.

He flashes you a dazzling smile as he walks up to the car. “What’s got you all dreamy-eyed?” He teases, settling in next to you. You feel your breath hitch as he comfortably rests his hand on your bare thigh, toying with the hem of your lounge shorts, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Just happy to be here,” you shrug, leaning over to peck his bearded cheek.

He hums at your affection, leaning his head on your shoulder as he fiddles with his phone, pulling up a radio app so he can tune to the station that will be broadcasting the audio for your screen. “It’s kind of a deadzone out there, there’s only maybe 5 other cars,” he reports, reaching behind you to make sure the bluetooth speaker he’s connected to is on. “Even with all the distancing, we probably didn’t need to park all the way back here.”

“I like it… Gives the illusion you rented out the place just for me, makes me feel special,” you joke. He giggles and kisses your shoulder.

The first movie of your double feature starts a few minutes later and you couldn’t possibly enjoy it more. The two of you trade jokes and snacks; it’s all just so comfortable and lovely, unfiltered and natural.

During the intermission, you decide to get out and stretch a bit before the second film starts. You notice that when you feel Ashton’s eyes poring over you as you bend and twist, you only feel pride and desire, none of the nervousness or timidity you’d felt a few weeks ago.

Once the movie starts, you sit and try to patiently wait and see if he’s going to make a move but by the time the opening credits are over, you can’t help but advance things yourself. You scoot closer but his eyes remain trained on the screen; you decide to more explicitly ask for his attention by nuzzling your face into his neck, pressing a few light kisses behind his ear, scratching his beard with your nails. “I’m having a good time,” you whisper, feeling him grin under your touch. “This was such a great idea, I’m happy you suggested it.”

He slinks his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m so glad you like it,” he beams at you. “It’s fun to be out in the world again but also still pretty much alone.”

“Alone enough to do this,” you lilt, leaning in to plant your lips on his. Your kiss is gentle but urgent and he reciprocates your energy, cupping your face with one hand and using the other to press you against him, murmuring when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just when things start to get heated, one of you pulls back and warmly smiles at the other, as if you’re both excited for more but still wanting to appreciate what’s happening in this moment.

You don’t want to disrupt the makeout but you can’t fight the craving you have to feel more of him; you’re finally able to pull yourself away and you lay down on the bed, patting the spot next to you in what you hope is an alluring manner.

He moves closer and you close your eyes, ready to feel his touch. You’re startled to instead hear a grunt of frustration and the shifting of a leather seat. Your eyes snap open and you see him straining to reach into the front seat, trying to reach the keys in the ignition. You’re half a second away from asking what the hell he’s doing when you hear a distant beep and the hatchback slowly begins to close at the end of the cabin. 

He plops himself on the pillow next to you. “Thought we could use a little more privacy,” he explains, grabbing a handful of your ass and using it to pull you closer. “Just in case someone else out there thinks the movie is as boring as we did.”

You start to giggle at his remark but your laughter is interrupted by his lips returning to yours. You both let your mouths and hands do as they please, exploring and enjoying without hesitation and without expectation. You’ve just peeled off his shirt and are sucking a mark at his collarbone when you feel his hand slip up your shirt to palm your breast. You give a light bite to his skin as his fingers pull at your nipple; he groans as you breathily tell him, “You can do it harder.”

A few dozen kisses later, his hand is sliding down your stomach and past the waistband of your shorts. You pull out of his kiss to whine quietly as his long fingers brush through your wetness, only touching your clit incidentally before adding light pressure. 

“Good?” Ashton checks with a smile as your head lulls back and you grab onto him.

“Oh, you know… ‘s alright I guess,” you joke, your attempt at being casual undermined by the way you’re basically grinding into his hand. You let out a long moan and he quickly brings his mouth back down to yours in an attempt to silence it.

As his fingers and lips drive you wild, you find your own hands reaching for his pants and you sigh into his mouth when you feel his cock hard and ready for you. You run your fingers across the straining fabric, teasing him with one hand while the other works to loosen the drawstring. 

You dip your hand inside and grip his cock, choking back a moan when you feel how much he’s already leaked for you. The slickness helps you easily begin stroking him and you shift so you can study his face, wanting to see evidence of the pleasure you’re giving him. As your thumb swipes over his tip and your fingers firmly squeeze his length, Ash’s eyes flutter shut and he bites his lip, quietly muttering your name under his breath.

His fingers slip inside you and you gasp as pumps them in and out, dragging them against your walls, teasing your spot. It’s an intense moment when your eyes lock as his fingers work inside of you while yours glide up and down his cock, the two of you breathing heavy as you basically fuck each other without fucking.

“Ash…” You start, voice wavering.

“Yeah,” he answers in strained agreement. “Do you want --”

“Yes, yes I do. I brought --”

“So did I.”

You break apart from each other and reach for your belongings, chuckling as he pulls a handful of condoms from his backpack and tosses them onto the bed at the same time you pull some from your purse and add them to the pile.

“Well it’s good to know we’re both the kind of people who can learn from their mistakes,” he laughs, pulling you into a delighted kiss. 

An exciting energy fills the car as you both shift around, getting yourselves situated. Ashton pulls back a layer of blankets from the seats in case you want to cover up and bursts out laughing when he turns around to see you’ve already stripped off your shorts and panties and are sitting there pantsless and unbothered.

“We’re parked in the back, there’s barely anyone here and the windows are fogged up,” you shrug, grinning.

You find yourself captivated as you watch him kick his pants off and get up on his knees, wrapping a hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before rolling a condom on. This is really happening. Finally, really happening.

“C’mere,” he breathes, reaching for you. You crawl to him and he cradles your face, kissing you softly. You nibble at his lip as you pull away and the two of you can’t stop smiling.

You climb into his lap, sitting on his legs, staring into his eyes. “Ready?” He asks you, sweetly rubbing your thighs. 

You nod eagerly and lift yourself up to hover over his cock. He slicks the tip through your folds, stopping to tease over your clit a few times and then he’s watching your face as he presses against your entrance. 

Your mouth drops open as you start to take him. He's so thick the stretch is instant, breathtaking and everything you've been dreaming of. His fingers gingerly brush over your hip, encouraging you as you ease him further inside you, rocking up and down until you're impossibly full.

Ash wraps his arms around you, kissing you deeply, hands in your hair then running down your back, then squeezing your ass. You feel completely surrounded by him and it’s overwhelming in the best way. You break the kiss to quickly peel your t-shirt off and then you’re reattaching your lips to his, pressing your chest against his, needing to feel as much of his skin on yours as you possibly can.

“Yes, baby, fuck” he murmurs as you slowly begin to move on his cock. “Feel so fuckin’ perfect… better than I’ve been imagining.”

You respond with a series of whimpers, so caught up in the feeling of finally having him in you. You move cautiously, almost torturously slow until you adjust to his size and then you pick up the pace, his hands firmly gripping your ass, helping you along.

You don’t even have the end goal of an orgasm in mind, you just can’t get enough of the new sensations his cock is making you feel. You shift from rocking to bouncing on him, moaning loudly each time his length hits a new place inside you.

“Ash… your cock feels so fucking good,” you pant, riding him with increasing speed, losing yourself in it. “Can’t believe you’re finally filling me up, baby… fuck.”

Your movements are bordering on frantic when you feel Ashton lightly squeeze your hips, attempting to still them, gently breathing your name. You slow down and look at him inquisitively. The mixture of amusement, desire and warmth painting his face is enough to make your pounding heart skip a beat.

“Can I?” He softly asks. You nod and he carefully pulls out of you and lays you back against the pillows before settling over you. He pecks over your neck and face as he guides himself back inside you. “Think we owe it to ourselves to slow down and live in this for a while.”

He starts to push up so he can get to work but you stop him, tucking his long hair behind his ear, stroking your hand over his beard. “You’re right, just feels so good,” you grin. “Hard not to get carried away.”

Ashton kisses over your palm and begins leisurely moving his hips. He keeps a moderate pace, steady enough that you’re feeling consistent pleasure, feeling something building in your core, but not so hurried that you’re aching to reach the finish line. You hook your leg around his hip and when he pushes it slightly back towards you, he slides in deeper and his groan blends with yours to form possibly the most gorgeous sound you’ve ever heard.

“Jesus, baby… pussy’s takin’ me so well,” he praises, voice sounding more wrecked than you expected. “Such a pretty, giving pussy, baby… what a good girl.”

You shiver at his words, your hands running up and down his back, feeling his muscles flex as he moves above you; you slide your hands down to grab his ass, pulling him closer, willing him even deeper. Ash reaches between your bodies to find your clit, teasing it with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. The snap of his hips has become slightly quicker and you can tell by his breathing that he’s getting close.

“Ash… so good, yes,” you mumble, reaching down to direct his hand in the pattern you need. He mimics your movements expertly and you start rocking your hips along with him, feeling the stirrings of your climax. “Fuck, like that… god, please.”

“Yeah?” He pants, watching your body start to tense. He takes his free hand and reaches for yours, lacing your fingers, squeezing encouragingly. “Been waiting so long to feel you cum around my cock… come on, baby, cum.”

The first pulse of your orgasm hits you so forcefully you’re shocked he doesn’t react to how hard you squeeze his hand. By the time the next one hits, you’re crying out in senseless mutters from how heavenly this moment feels, how his thick cock couldn’t fit more perfectly inside you as you tighten around it. The sensations feel like they might echo forever as you start to come back down, Ash continuing to move gently in you, reassuring you in a soft voice about how incredible you feel around him.

You pull him down to kiss him breathlessly, satisfied from your orgasm but still hungry for his affection, still needing him on you. “Want you to cum for me, babe,” you whisper. “Let me know how much you love being buried in this pussy.”

Your words drive Ashton’s thrusts to become frenzied as he growls your name, followed by a raspy string of curses. He lets out a deep groan as he fills the condom, rocking into you deep and slow as he works through his climax. His head drops to burrow into your neck and you shiver at how his beard prickles your overstimulated skin. You stroke through his curls, lightly damp with sweat, and whisper in his ear, “So good, Ash… so fuckin’ good.”

He plants an exhausted but sweet kiss on you, only breaking it for you both to whine as he pulls out of you; he carefully ties off the condom while you reach for some of the leftover napkins from dinner to clean yourself up. You sort through each other’s clothes, the two of you grinning like fools the entire time you’re getting dressed.

Ash leans back against the pillows and sighs loudly, gesturing for you to come lay with him. You crawl toward him, making a small detour over the front seat to press the release on the hatchback again. You settle against him as the door opens, the cool night air filling the car again, the long forgotten movie still being projected in the distance.

“Worth the wait?” You tease, giving him a toothy smile.

He holds you tight to his chest. “Fuckin’ hell, baby… as much as we built it up, think we still might’ve undersold it. Like. Goddamn.”

You hum in agreement, closing your eyes, enjoying the afterglow. “I’m glad we just kind of let it happen. That’s probably the best first time I’ve ever had. Definitely the most comfortable.”

“Same. Easy but still just… perfect,” he says dreamily.

You play with his fingers, chuckling, “I was so comfortable I almost asked you to cum on me until I remembered we were fucking in your friend’s car.”

“I mean, it was already questionable for us to have gotten fully naked in his car, we might as well have gone all out,” Ashton laughs loudly, squeezing your hand. “I think Cal had a suspicion this might happen, he left breath mints, condoms and Clorox wipes in the glove compartment.” 

You cackle. “No blacklight, though?”

He pinches your leg and leans in to drown your laughter with a kiss. You gaze at him for a beat, marvelling at how normal everything feels for once. You notice he’s looking at you with a familiar fire in his eyes and you swear even though you were naked with him just a few minutes ago, you actually feel butterflies in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly and Ash smirks. “Was just thinkin’ it’s for the best anyways. The first time I cover you in cum I don’t want it to be in a dark backseat, I want to be able to see it.”

You quietly groan, a naughty glint in your eye to match his. You sit up and plant a heated kiss on him, pulling away to murmur, “Well. It’s still early… my place or yours?”

————-

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[softinkshadows]

running into adultrio for the first time (x female reader) (1/3)

HISOKA You were slightly out of breath, racing through the streets of York New City. The night wind was cold and relentless against your skin, but you didn’t care, running past lit buildings and alleyways for signs of life. You didn’t know what to be afraid of - the lack of voices around you or the rampant gunfire in the near distance around the cemetery building. The shots had started 10 minutes ago while you were walking on your way home, and immediately your instincts flared into a sharp frenzy. A fight was breaking out at the annual underground auction, and there were nen users involved. Extremely powerful ones. You could almost feel the destruction and death a few blocks away like a tremor along your spine. At once, you sprinted towards the scene, hoping to extricate innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. With your abilities, you knew you could bring them out safely and even put up a good fight. Earlier you’d already saved several distraught families and young couples. Just a few blocks more and it’ll be clear, you thought to yourself as you turned down another deserted street. “I’LL KILL Y-!” Gunfire resounded towards your left and you heard a nearby guttural yell cut short into a gurgle. You stopped short and came upon a darkened alley. At your feet, a cluster of five men in black suits lay at in a tangled heap. Their machine guns strewn over the pavement, and their throats slit cleanly, dripping fresh blood. Mafia, you ascertained the situation, they can no longer be saved. You had seen many dead bodies before, hell you had to kill even though you tried hard not to, and this barely fazed you. Yet something about this evoked a tension in your stomach, what was in the shadows - “Oya oya,” a silky voice said. “What do we have here, a visitor?” You felt your whole body switching to a defensive stance, eyes straining to pierce the dark in front of you. Whoever this was, their zetsu was impeccable. Then, he emerged, walking at a threateningly slow pace, his golden eyes trained on yours. One hand on his chin, the other holding a poker card. His hair combed back, almost as red as the blood he had just spilt. He’s someone to be especially careful of, you instincts told you.  Then, so swift it was almost a blur, a poker card sliced through the air in front of you. You reacted instantly, moving out of the way as you felt the razor edge of the card graze your cheek. His golden eyes widened and before you could find your footing, he appeared to your right, his left arm throwing one of the fastest punches you had ever been dealt - in a split second you did a backward flip, crouching low before sending a rapid kick to his face - his arm stopped your assault - but his gaze doubled in intensity, golden orbs flashing with surprise and burning with (was this?) intrigue. Suddenly, your body flew and you felt the impact of slamming into a brick wall; the back of your head throbbed with a dull ache, and your right hand and foot felt affixed to the wall by an invisible shackle. Tch, you clicked your tongue, glaring straight at him. From your experience, you didn’t need to use gyo to know that you were pinned to the wall with his nen. A transmuter. His eyes squinted into thin slits as he walked closer and closer. Unable to move, both of you were almost pressed together, his muscular frame cornering yours into the wall. Your free hand aimed for his throat, but he was quick to hold you down. You felt his strength against your wrists, before his long, sharp fingers tilted your chin to face him. “And who might you be...You’re not a run of the mill fighter, are you?” he purred, eyes still fixed on you. He was unbearably perceptive. You felt your insides lurch a little. This was a bad position to be in, how did you even end up running into someone like him, of all people? Regardless, you refused to let your building tension show, gazing back at him in silence and feigned indifference. Whether it was from the heat of his body impossibly close to yours, or the short sparring session you both had, you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your temple, as if betraying your thoughts. His eyes darted to the side and caught sight of it, his mouth pulling into a slight smirk. “Oh well... since you’re being uncooperative,” he mused. With you imprisoned beneath his gaze and arm, you felt his other hand reach into your pockets. “What are you doing,” you hissed. feeling anger rise into your throat. He fiddled with your phone, pressing what seemed to be a series of numbers or letters. Then he slipped your phone back where it belonged, before leaning into you once more, this time even closer to the point where he could easily whisper into your ear. You bristled at his cool breath, soft but with almost serpentine-like menace and lust burning into your skin. “I wish I could prolong this moment, but I have a job to do.” He stood back up, golden orbs glinting in the dim streetlights, before suddenly pulling away. Walking towards the cemetery building, he called back over his shoulder. “The nen would dissipate in about 30 minutes, so don’t worry.” Tch, you clicked in irritation again as you glared at his receding figure in the darkness. 

“And oh, thank you for giving me your number.”  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes: this was my first time ever writing a fic-like thing omg!! feels strange but oddly satisfying~ i’ve always liked to imagine (non-sexual) scenarios of a female protagonist running into the adultrio and who then catches their attention somehow, which can snowball into a longer narrative. I initially wanted to include Illumi and Chrollo in this post but I ended up writing quite a bit, so I will do another two separate posts I guess :~)

[tasteslikemolecules]

1.05 Bloody Mary

After a young girl says “Bloody Mary” three times in front of a bathroom mirror, her father dies, bleeding out of his eyes. On their way to Ohio to solve the mystery, Sam wakes up from another nightmare about Jess (Dean: “You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.”). The conclusion of the case is that it’s a vengeful spirit called Mary whose eyes got cut out while she got murdered. Because she died in front of a large mirror (as one does), she tried to spell out her killer’s name into the frame and that’s why her spirit got trapped inside the mirror. The ghost now targets people associated with deaths who keep secrets. Because Sam has a secret around Jessica’s death, he decides to summon Mary so they can kill her. Sam’s eyes start bleeding as his reflection tells him that he’s responsible for Jessica’s death because he had “nightmares” of it happening. Dean comes in to save Sam and smashes the mirror. Sam still won’t tell Dean about his premonitions. As they drive out of town, Sam thinks he’s seeing Jessica in a white nightgown in the street. The case doesn’t make a lot of sense and the cheap ring knock off vibes don’t help, but it is genuinely creepy episode at times. More importantly, we get some insight into Sam’s messed up psyche!

The more I think about it the less I understand the mechanics of how Bloody Mary works. She has to be summoned by someone, and then kills whoever she thinks has a secret around the death of another person. Then she disappears and has to be summoned again before she can kill again? But at the end of the episode, she is attempting to kill both Dean and Sam, so she seems to be able to kill several people at once. You can summon her from whatever bathroom mirror (internationally? Only in Ohio? Do ghosts recognise city limits?), but she can only kill once before she goes back into her mirror? Why does Sam see himself in the mirror talking back?

More of general early seasons thing, but the amount of make up on Jared’s and Jensen’s faces is just astounding. It looks so caked on

A+ visual of blood dripping out of Sam's eyes while mirror-Sam tells him he’s killed his girlfriend :) Fascinating how early and thoroughly they introduced the Sam-as-freak-narrative.

Dean making a dumb joke about Paris Hilton’s sex tape made me wonder whether there’s a specific point in the show/season where they started reining the amount of sleazy jokes he makes, or whether that was more of slow regress over time. And how much of it was a conscious decision vs inconsistent writing. If it was conscious, was it more about cultural sensibilities shifting or about Dean becoming number and generally less humorous (definitely post-hell, but even more later on)?

Just how many nightmares did Dean see Sam wake up from during the first five episodes off-screen? Since they are framing the early episodes, it appears they would have been constant, right?

Lily, the young girl at the beginning, is played by the same actress who played Sam from the comic book shop in 14.4 Mint Condition (Genevieve Buechner, who happens to be bi which has nothing to do with anything except I found it neat). Which is interesting because she plays a Sam-leaning character both times.

Does Jessica count as Sam’s first hallucination of the show? Or not because he seems too aware that it’s just in his head?

Definitely the first time Sam is eye-to-eye with another-Sam who tells him things he doesn’t want to hear. 


Rating: 5/10 

 Highlight: The final scene when Sam sees Jessica in the streets is truly haunting. 
Lowlight: The case, all the women screaming, the weirdly long scene where a girl is haunted in a class room. 


Memorable line: “You're my brother and I would die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” (Sam)


Best Needledrop: "Rock of Ages" by Def Leppard (not a great episode for music) 

 Something we learn about Sam: He’s been thinking about his premonitions/psychic abilities since the first episode.

[just-horrible-things]

Caution for: police brutality

Liam - Capture 2 [First | Next]

Later, Liam will remember very little of his arrest. At the time it is a kaleidoscope of pain and terror. An endless sequence of hideous moments with no narrative to tie them together. Glimpses caught of raised boots and fists and batons between the blows that keep him blind. The awful crack of bone breaking. The taste of blood.

He is not really conscious by the time he’s thrown into the back of the van, and he doesn’t come round until long after he’s been dumped in a cell and left, wrists cuffed to the end of the metal bench, to either die or start to recover.

Most of the process of waking will also be lost to the memory-eating fog of concussion. The world tilts and spins alarmingly just from trying to lift his head. His broken nose is a focal point for the radiating agony that fills his skull. 

He lies still for a long time before he even tries to understand where he is. Grey daylight filters in from somewhere out of sight behind the bars. He doesn’t remember how he got here but he does remembers a dozen snatches of horror story about the things cops do to warlocks like Liam.

He remembers the way his mom talked about it in hushed vaguenesses. She'd be so disappointed in Liam. He hates her and he misses her terribly.

Even his tongue hurts as he tries to run it over his blood-caked teeth. He can’t tell if any of them are loose and that bothers him.

The angle he is lying at hurts his shoulders and his neck. But every time he thinks about moving, a wave of nausea and agony puts paid to the notion. 

So he still hasn’t really moved when, perhaps hours later, a face appears outside the bars. In trying to figure out who it might be, Liam becomes aware of how slow and disjointed his thoughts still are. 

“Still alive in there, mindfucker?” The cop’s voice is loud. It pulses in Liam’s head. Mindfucker. How do they know? A baton drags across the bars and every clang is a stab through Liam’s skull. He moans and tries to put his hands over his ears but he can only tug weakly at his cuffed wrists. The cop laughs like a hyena.

He blinks, and he's alone again.

The next time people appear they pay no attention to Liam. There is shouting and other noise and he watches dumbly as they drag a stranger past.

The time after that, they unlock the door to Liam’s cell. 

Liam is suddenly acutely aware of how vulnerable he is, laying sprawled out on the floor like he is. He tries nervously to pull his feet in closer to his body. His left ankle throbs worse than everything but his head. 

"W-what did I do?" he stammers as they close on him with obvious malice. "Please, I don't --" “This is for Rory, you little magic shit.” It doesn't tell Liam anything. Dimly he thinks he might know who Rory is. But then the first kick drives into his side and knocks the thought right out of him. 

With his hands fastened in place, all he can do to defend himself is try to tuck his head between his arms. A weak effort to draw his knees up to his chest achieves nothing. Someone stamps down on his bad ankle and he screams as it crunches under their weight.

He keeps screaming but it's no use. No one will save him. All that happens is they yell at him to shut up as they bring boots and batons down on his helpless body over and over.

When they are gone he cries. Truly cries in great heaving sobs that hurt like hell in his ribs and his pounding head. Blood and snot and tears drip into his mouth and down the side of his face. 

He can't muster the will to stop. What does it matter if they laugh at him? They’re going to kill him.

After that the hours creep past slowly. 

Liam hurts so much that he thinks he must be dying, but he doesn’t die. He just gets thirstier, and colder, and stiffer. The familiar pangs of hunger are muddled unpleasantly with nausea and the pain from the beatings. And the pain in his head is an unrelenting chisel. He hates everything that makes a sound, and there are a lot of things that make sounds throughout the day.

Every so often the cops go past. Sometimes they pause to hurl abuse at Liam or rattle the bars and make him whimper. 

In the evening he sees them take bottles of water and triangular sandwich packets to the other cells. Liam gets a bottle, but no food. They roll it across the floor to him without unlocking the door. It almost stops out of his reach, but he's able to catch it with his good leg.

He quickly realises that he can't get his hands down to the floor. The task of getting the bottle to his hands occupies him for at least half an hour. Every movement is painful and he gives up several times before inevitably changing his mind. 

Even when he is finally able to get the cap off, he only drinks a little. Just a few mouthfuls to take the edge off his thirst. He already needs to pee badly, and he doesn’t dare ask to use the bathroom. What if they won't let him? And he can't stand up, he doesn't know what will happen if they want him to walk. 

It's not long before the door is unlocked again. Liam tries to curl up. Pain shoots through his core. “Don’t hide from me, you pathetic animal.” He can’t tell if he’s seen the woman before. They all blur together. Maybe she was one of the ones hurting him. Maybe she wasn’t.

She towers over Liam and he tries to inch his bad ankle away from her feet, flinching and wincing as it drags across the floor. “Don’t,” he whimpers, “please don’t…” She stares down at Liam over the top of her clipboard. Clipboard. Maybe she’s not here to beat him?

“Name.” Her voice is terse and clipped and full of hate. Liam squints up at her, bewildered. “You will answer the questions,” she snaps, “or you’ll die here on this floor, fucker.” “I, I will,” Liam promises, “I’ll answer.” His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “What’s your fucking name?” “Liam, it’s Liam Holloway.” Her pen scratches across the clipboard. “Date of birth?” He can’t remember.

He can’t remember his own date of birth.

“U-um, uhm,” he stalls helplessly. He’s sure he knows, he can't not know. But it's just not there and that’s terrifying. “Date of birth?” she repeats more sharply. Her eyes flicker up and down Liam’s body, resting briefly on the ankle that he’s trying to shield from her with his other leg. “A-august,” he lies, “August seventh.” It’s the first date that comes into his head. He’s pretty sure it’s not his date of birth. She writes it down anyway, and the year that he pulls out of thin air, and all the other answers he gives her, true and false.

She doesn’t seem surprised that he’s homeless, or that he doesn’t have a next of kin.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Liam dares to ask as she clicks her pen and tucks it into the clip of her clipboard. “A-am I going to die?” There is malice in the way her lips peel back from her teeth. “I hope so,” she says, and she kicks him sharply in the broken ankle, leaving him gasping as she walks away.

When the light is finally turned out it’s a relief. Liam dares to hope it means they'll leave him alone for the night. And the light was hurting his eyes. He’s still very thirsty but he doesn't want to drink any more of the water. It doesn’t seem fair to be be so thirsty and need to pee so badly at the same time.

At some point in the night, half-conscious, he succumbs to the inevitable. From a daze just short of sleep he is woken by wet, spreading warmth as he pisses himself. It sets him off crying again. He has never been so fucking humiliated. He can’t clean himself off, he can’t even get away from it. The best he can do is to shuffle painfully round so he's not quite lying in the puddle. He pulls uselessly against the cuffs that attach him to the bench until it hurts too much to continue, but of course he can't get free.

When the cops come back in the morning they laugh at Liam and shout at him and call him disgusting and he feels disgusting, he feels every bit as nasty and worthless and pathetic as they say he is.

They hose him down to get rid of the smell. When he sees the hose Liam is almost hopeful. Being drenched with water has to be better than this. But when the water hits him it’s almost as bad as being beaten all over again. He screams as they play the high pressure over his injuries, and keeps screaming until they aim it at his face and the water forces itself painfully into his mouth and up his nose and in through his screwed-tight eyelids. 

When they finally turn it off he lies gasping, flopping like a fish with their laughter echoing in his ears.

[Next]

[touchmycoat]

I LOVE YOUR PORN AU!!!!! LIKE SO MUCH - and i'm just. if you don't mind me asking, how - the way you flesh out the characters, their motivations, and feelings in every scene in such an eloquent way, and just little things here and there, a habit or an activity that adds dimension to who they are, and - your prose is wonderful. you achieve this addictive, engrossing narrative space that readers just absolutely melt into, and i have to ask - how did you develop your writing style? 1/2

what books did you read that formatively shaped the way you write? or you know, what did you do to improve your writing? i'm so in awe of how you world-built and established the porn au - like lqg & hc being national taolu champions?? how do you come up with that stuff? i cannot comprehend the amount of research and effort that must've gone into porn au, and i'm just so deeply thankful that you decided to share that with us. i apologize if i'm coming on too strong, but wow. thank you 2/2

--

oh my god please don't apologize, when i saw your ask i rolled on the floor giggling hysterically for a solid 15 min, bless your heart

part of the answer to your question—i've taken like, 8 years' worth of creative writing classes/workshops! there was also a transnational literary component to my degree so whenever possible, i took literature classes fksjdfksd so whatever you see and like is definitely the result of a lot of work. My writing from not even 10 years ago but like, 5? horrid, ridiculous, wild, cringe. The Porn AU itself is the second draft of a MUCH more lackluster piece.

about my writing style. gosh, you really know how to make a writer blush. "I like your writing style" is literally an instant kill LMFAO okay okay, the useful answer: my primary criteria for choosing what to write is, don't be obvious, be interesting. Fiction tells us to show, not tell, right? Poetry is about concretizing the abstract. Screenwriting says cut all useless lines. A lot of writing rules and advice—never start with the weather, avoid detailed descriptions of the characters, don't use adverbs, etc.—are all really about this exact sentiment.

I once took a seminar on writing for horror movies. The golden rule of the horror genre is Never Show the Monster, because whatever the audience is imagining is always going to be scarier than what you actually show them. There are obviously exceptions to this (to all writing rules), but in my mind, it's all the same principle.

LONG answer under the cut

So you start with building a scene. I approach it like essay-writing—I state my thesis for the motivations/main propulsion of the plot. "In this scene, LQG and SY are motivated to save Cang Qiong's porn production, so they have sex on camera." Then you build the sub-motivations: "LQG is also doing this because he's pining after SY."

I learned this "thesis-writing" from theater, specifically from writing 10-min plays. Theater is all about characters being driven by their wants and needs, and the reason I say 10-min plays in particular is because longer forms of writing will give you more leeway, but in 10-min, you pretty much need your character motivations established from their very first line. That's why you need that very clear thesis for yourself—if you don't even know what the character wants from the get-go, then you can't establish who they are, what they want, and where they're going to go in a dynamic and interesting way.

So this thesis drives EVERYTHING that happens in your scene, just like an actual thesis for an essay, just like topic sentences for your paragraphs. Once I do this, I have the emotional direction & narrative scope of how much this scene will cover, I have a sense of where it begins and ends. "Begin with the dynamics of their sex. LQG starts showing signs of his feelings. Reveal LQG backstory for exactly what those feelings are and why he isn't telling SY. The rest of the scene implies that LQG's feelings may not be so unrequited, but also sets up the fundamental problem at the heart of the whole fic—SY's inability to comprehend his own feelings." This is kind of my new thesis now. They're having sex; LQG pines; SY doesn't know he himself is pining.

Now it's time to manifest. This is the "storytelling" part, and the hardest lmfao.

Personally, my approach is largely shaped by my very cool screenwriting teacher, who hammered into us: don't fucking waste lines. The Golden Rule of screenwriting is that every line should reveal something new. I found my old writing kind of repetitive, especially on the emotional front, so this is kind of my editing mantra now—is this line either propelling the story or revealing character? If it's revealing character, is it a revelation that has to happen right now, or is it slowing the momentum of the scene?

But these aren't rhetorical questions! "Momentum" doesn't just mean tumble forward as fast as you can, it also means taking the time to draw the bowstring back further, so your next move has even more propulsion. That's why you get the little "LQG has been in love with SY..." cut scene in the middle of the fucking (at least, that's my reasoning for putting it there). Every line has to bring a fresh revelation that "proves" your thesis further.

That brings me to the details. You said you like the details I inject into the world-building, and honestly that's so gratifying to hear, because that means I'm successfully manifesting my intentions, y'know? "Every line has to bring new info" kind of sounds like a tall order, but the most effective way I've seen it done in books and onstage/onscreen is with these hyper-specific details. If you're writing a scene in which someone feels dirty, never have them just say that—have them say they want to take a shower. Show them running out of bleach again as they scrub down the stall after they wash. Begin the scene like "Steve always washes his throat first now." Then pack the scene with even more revelatory details: "Soap in hand, he heard the pipes above his head groan for a half note on adagio, and readied himself for the blast of icy water that always followed." Shitty shower, probably not rich, is likely a classical musician.

By the same token, I want to build LQG's character. The "Liu Qingge has been in love with Shen Yuan" section is the first insight we get into his background and perspective, right, so: I need to establish LQG's emotional context for filming this scene -> I can characterize him as a nut for martial arts in the same stroke -> so this takes place at a gym, beating up sandbags is a classic way of showing manly emotional distress -> so give me more details on this gym -> Puqi Gym, XL the martial god is obviously the owner -> how do I have XL & LQG a relationship beyond gym owner & client? They spar together -> I want XL & HC's position in this AU to mirror their god/ghost king statuses in TGCF canon -> how can I concretize their fighting prowesses in real-world details? -> they're martial arts champions -> what's an actual competitive martial art form that involves weaponry? -> wushu -> wikipedia Wushu, find taolu weapons sparring

(I just realized that in my songxiao daycare AU, Hualian are Olympic gold medalists by the same narrative logic laksjdnflaksjdnflsd)

So, that's the flow of logic behind my world-building lmao. It's all in the details. Leverage is one of my all-time favorite TV shows and the way they build their stories is super inspiring. If their thesis is "the rich and powerful take what they want, we steal it back for you," they manifest it in the most specific and concrete narratives: mine workers who like the work but are fighting for workplace safety vs. the money-grubbing mine owner who will blow up their livelihoods if it means a bigger payday; the little girl from Iraq with refugee status forced to be an accomplice to antique smuggling vs. international smuggler with a fetish for British royalty.

Last pieces of writing advice I've gotten: pay attention to the real world. A writing exercise we did was just sit in a public spot and make concrete observations on our surroundings. There are stories in everything!!! I learned to observe things like weird holes in the concrete (earthquake? drilling accident? bullet mark?), odd patches of moss or bird shit (look overheard: it's an AC unit dripping water for the former and nesting swallows for the latter), ladies in flipflops walking alongside ladies in high heels (excited mother walking her antsy daughter to the bus for the daughter's first job interview—the daughter's shirt collar is unfashionable and she's taking the bus, so there's a good chance the shoes were passed down, maybe from an office lady aunt. Maybe she's even overdressed for the interview, so will her outfit be an unintended source of tension once she gets to the interview? Is it a group interview, to make the comparison more stark?).

Also, write what you know. You know why SY is a video editor in porn AU? Because I'm a video editor. One of my more popular MDZS fics is set in a plant shop 'cause I worked in a plant shop. SL was First AD in Bachelor!AU 'cause I was First AD on a set once. Concrete details like the editing software having a split-screen, always answering questions about how often to water plants, and being up until 3AM editing call-sheets are the ones that will fully immerse your readers.

And if you can't do the actual things, just watch someone who is, listen to them talk, pick up lingo, and fake it. I watched like a 15-min vox video on fencing for the fencing!AU and a 45-min music theory video on the hospital pianist!AU (also I started learning piano sklfjnlsdjlfkjsd). Of course, I just finished reading a wangxian fic that had me going, "holy fucking shit, the author is literally getting their masters in a music program" so my 45-min youtube video ain't shit, but if you just need a little bit of character establishment, then it's enough to do the trick.

Anyways, tl;dr. Find the details, find the tension. Never tell outright what the tension is supposed to be, manifest it instead. Make the manifestation as interesting as possible, and if it's meant to be funny, make it funnier.

Sorry this turned into a fucking lecture lskjnflskdjnflskd but last thing, someone asked me before if I had formative authors, and this was the list I wrote at the time:

Angels in America (play) by Tony Kushner

The God of Small Things (novel) by Arundhati Roy

The Penelopiad (novel) by Margaret Atwood

“Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out” (poem) by Richard Siken

Night Sky with Exit Wounds (poetry) by Ocean Vuong

Giovanni’s Room (novel) by James Baldwin (and then Go Tell it on the Mountain and then his essays)

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

And, ooh, now that I have this list I think I can even roughly sort it as such: Kushner, Atwood, Siken, and Salinger I really latched onto for their dialogue and very present narrator voice—same is true for Go Tell it on the Mountain. Roy, Vuong, and Giovanni’s Room, I think, are texts more representative of the kind of saturated figurative language I like, and emulate. Of course they all do imagery and voice and overall structure amazingly, but that’s the rough dividing line I’d draw.

But yeah James Baldwin is my fucking hero.

[ginnympotter]

Losing All My Cool

A/N: I know this is quite similar to a different one shot of mine, "Reckless, Even," but I just never tire of filling in the blanks from Half-Blood Prince of Harry and Ginny's time together. Just the two of them having fun and getting to be happy together while they still can. Title inspired by Dua Lipa's song "Cool," which I listened to on repeat as inspiration for this :) Summary: Harry and Ginny spend a morning together on the Hogwarts grounds for their first day as a couple after a momentous night of Quidditch and other victories. You can also read it on AO3! 

Hermione covered her mouth, attempting to hide her laugh as Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice, determinedly not looking at Ron. “All I’m saying is you got back pretty late last night.”

“And? Gonna deduct some points from him, prefect?” Harry’s heart jumped into his throat at the sound of her voice so suddenly, especially considering Ron was just beginning to pry, causing him to choke on his drink. His face burning, he turned to see Ginny plopping down on the bench, facing one leg on either side of it, facing him. She smiled brightly. “Hey there. Done with breakfast?”

“Hi,“ he replied once he stopped coughing, smiling back. “I-“

Ron interjected. “I could if I wanted to, you know! From the both of you if you don’t-“

“If we don’t what?” she asked fiercely. “Hermione wouldn’t even do that.”

Ron snorted. “Of course she would.”

They all looked at her. “Keep me out of this,” she said warningly, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice, as she flipped a page of her Arithmancy book.

“Exactly,” said Ginny triumphantly to Ron. “So mind your business.”

“This is my-“

“Anyway,” she ignored her brother, turning back to Harry. “Ready?”

He stuffed the last bit of his French toast into his mouth and nodded, still avoiding Ron’s gaze.

“Ready for what?” asked Ron, looking at them suspiciously as they stood up from their seats. “Where are you going?”

Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Didn’t I just tell you to mind your business? Why don’t you continue to bask in the aftermath of the Quidditch Cup win? I know I am.” And with that, she grabbed Harry’s hand and began tugging him away with her.

Hermione could not conceal her laugh again, and Harry waved at both of them, seeing Ron’s ears bright red, feeling some guilt swim in his stomach as he told them, “See you at lunch.”

As he walked with her, she gave him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. As if reading his mind, she said, “I couldn’t help it, he’s too easy. Don’t let him get to you. He’ll be fine.”

“He was just berating me for getting back late last night,” he sighed. “As if he wasn’t doing the same thing with Lavender all last term.”

“I know,” Ginny said as she led them out onto the grounds. “But he didn’t try to kill you in your sleep at least, right?”

“Not that we know of,” he corrected her. “But I was equally worried about someone else, to be honest,” he muttered, thinking of the look on Dean’s face and the broken glass in his hand at the sight of he and Ginny kissing the night before. He stopped walking now that they were out of sight from the Great Hall and turned to her to give her a real greeting. “Good morning,” he grinned.

She chuckled appreciatively. “Morning,” she responded, and reached up to give him a quick kiss on the lips, sending a little shock wave all the way down to his toes. As if pulled magnetically back to her, he leaned in for more, but she shook her head, tugging his hand again and began marching down the hallway. “Exert some patience.”

Harry coughed, trying to will his legs to move along. “I have! Months and months worth of patience,” he told her without thinking.

She looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Months and months?”

His stomach dropped a bit. “Er…perhaps.”

An endearing expression spread across her features. “Noted.”

“So,” he began, eager to shift gears a bit. “We never did get around to discussing the match yesterday, you know.”

“Well, first things first; the team has called for your resignation next year, with me replacing you as both Seeker and Captain, effective immediately.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, after my spectacular catch, it was a unanimous vote,” she teased. “Although I’d much rather keep my position as Chaser…”

They discussed the match in detail throughout the rest of their walk on the grounds, which Ginny was leading. She recounted each of Ron’s impressive saves, sparing him a few compliments (“But don’t tell him I said that,”) before describing his few glaring misses. She had a few choice words about Cho’s seeking abilities, and the attitude she swears she had given her mid-air.

As she steered them toward the Quidditch pitch, and Ginny continued to paint a picture of Demelza and Katie’s goals, purposely excluding Dean from the narrative, Harry suddenly felt a bit uneasy knowing what he was about to go do with her, and that she was possibly leading him to a spot where she had done the same thing with Dean.

Ginny must have noticed that he was lost in thought, as she was giving him a quizzical look. “Are you okay, Harry?”

He shook it off and squeezed her hand, and her returned pressure helped ease his nerves a bit. It was nice, holding her hand. “Just suspicious as to where you’re taking us.”

She smiled mischievously. “Just winging it.”

Harry continued asking her questions about the match, laughing at her impressions of each team member, until they reached the stands. The sky was the clearest blue, with the sun beaming on them as they sat down together. Ginny let go of Harry’s hand to put her hair up, little drops of sweat dripping down the side of her face. Harry’s eyes moved down towards her midriff, which was exposed as her shirt lifted up a bit with her arms as she tied her hair. Ginny gave him a pointed look.

Harry cleared his throat, looking skyward. “It’s, um, a nice day out.”

She laughed as she brought her arms back down, using her hands to grab Harry by the shoulders, pulling herself closer to him, regaining eye contact. “Pathetic,” she told him. “It’s a nice day out? You know you can look at my skin and not avert your eyes when I notice, right?”

Harry suddenly felt very hot. “Sorry. I’m used to forcing myself to look away… You got me losing all my cool over here.”

“You had it pretty under control yesterday,” she said, moving one of her hands to the back of his neck, gently running her nails over his skin.

He chuckled, feeling stupid for being nervous, when he had kissed her mere moments ago, and a heavy portion of the day before. But yesterday felt too good to be true, his literal dreams coming to fruition. She moved her other hand to meet its companion behind his neck, pulling his face closer to hers as he said, “That was the exact opposite of having things under control. You think me snogging you in the common room, in front of Ron, no less, was my plan to ask you out?”

“Well, no, but I liked it,” she told him. “I mean, if you hadn’t done it, I probably would’ve. Like if you don’t lean in and snog me right now, I’ll just have to do it myself-“

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He crushed his lips against hers, with so much force that they almost lost their balance. It was a good thing Harry had quick reflexes, as he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring them back up. She was laughing against his mouth. “Merlin, Harry.”

He laughed, too. “Told you,” he said quietly against her lips before reconnecting them, this time steady and purposeful.

And just like the day before, Harry felt as though he was in one of his dreams. However, it was far better, as he could actually feel the softness of her skin, the smoothness of her hair. He moved his hands, one to run through the top of her hair, the other to cup her face, holding her jaw as he deepened the kiss, much to her welcoming.

Ginny returned every move in favor. He knew she was being generous, allowing him to be the one to lead, but eventually, she must have grown impatient, as she tore her mouth away briefly and climbed onto his lap, straddling him, each knee upon the bench on either side of him. Harry suddenly felt both intimidated and excited; he loved how Ginny easily took command, but wanted to impress her, too.

The new seating arrangement helped tremendously in a lot of ways, but mainly it brought their faces level with one another, as their height difference had been causing each of them to crane their necks a bit much. Ginny threw Harry a wicked smile before reattaching her lips to his, this time holding his face in her hands and took control of the kiss, slowing it down, teasing, giving in for a brief moment, then teasing again. Harry groaned in a mixture of frustration and arousal from her method, but she seemed to take this as further encouragement. These were not the eager, heavy snogs of the day before, but he really couldn’t complain much.

Just as Harry was getting acclimated to this, she moved her hands to his shoulders and her lips left his and began to travel. First to his cheek, then over to his ear, where she gently blew hot air, and Harry suddenly felt a bit too aware that Ginny was straddling his lap. This awareness only heightened as she moved to his neck, using her lips and teeth and tongue to do things to him that made him feel as if his senses were going to leave him entirely. He grasped at Ginny’s sides to steady himself, and after a few moments realized that her hands were working on the buttons of his shirt, and had already successfully undone two of them.

“Ginny,” he tried to say strongly, but it came out a more like a whimper. All she did was move her mouth back to his as she continued to work on the third button.

She had opened it when he willed himself to pull away from her. “Ginny,” he tried again, grabbing her hands with one of his own.

She looked at him, eyes dilated and cheeks flushed. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he told her, trying to smile but not sure if the muscles in his face were quite capable. “I just…I just realized how much more experienced you are than me at all this,” he said truthfully.

Ginny seemed momentarily taken aback by such honesty, but then grinned compassionately. “That’s okay. You’re a fast learner.”

Harry chuckled, raising one of her hands to kiss. “You’re far too kind.”

“I mean, would I like it if you showed a little less restraint? Sure, but take your time.”

He looked at her in wonderment, feeling a warmth spread throughout him as he soaked in her knowing smirk. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman. And like I said, you know what you’re doing more than I do-“

“You know what you’re doing,” she assured him sweetly. “Trust me, you do. But you don’t have to be a gentleman. We don’t have to do anything either of us doesn’t want to, of course. However, I give you full consent to touch me wherever, take off whatever-“

Harry choked. “Ginny, we’re out in the open! I’m not going to…to...disrobe you when anyone can walk by!” he whispered.

Ginny laughed heartily. “Oh, so that’s why you got all tense when I started to open your shirt. You’ve got nothing to worry about, unless there’s a practice scheduled, no one comes out to the pitch before lunch.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual but obviously failing to hide his suspicions by Ginny’s roll of her eyes.

“Because I used to come at this time every Sunday to practice flying before I tried out for the team last year,” she explained, scoffing at the relief on Harry’s face. “I wasn’t going to take it off necessarily. Just thought I’d get a nice peek, if that’s okay.”

He nodded a bit too fast, making him dizzier than he already was. “It’s definitely okay-“

“And you can do the same, you know,” she told him as she released her hands from Harry’s grasp to continue her work on his buttons.        

“Much appreciated,” he laughed, closing his eyes as she kissed him lazily. Once she undid the last button, Harry felt jolted as her small, soft hands began to move gently over his bare chest, sending chills up his spine. She stopped kissing him, and he opened his eyes to see her surveying him. After a few moments, she looked back up at him. “Not bad, Captain,” she said, smothering Harry’s chuckle with her mouth.

Harry eventually allowed himself to follow Ginny’s lead of leaving inhibitions behind; he was finally living out months’ worth of fantasies, and why should he deprive himself of such a glorious reality? He let his hands wander down her back, settling gently at first, then, with Ginny’s groans of approval and encouragement, more firmly under her bum. He tried a bit of the neck kissing himself, and felt rather proud of himself by Ginny’s breathy reaction.

Some time passed, and they finally began to slow down a bit. Neither Harry nor Ginny wanted to pull away, anytime one of them attempted, the other pulling them back in for a bit more convincing. It was not until they both released the other, breathing heavily, foreheads against each other that they resigned to a break of some sort. Both giggly and sweaty from the sun beating down on them, Ginny reluctantly removed herself from Harry, sitting beside him instead. But Harry did not want to lose contact just yet, so he swiveled her to face him, and grabbed her legs so that they were draped over his lap. Rubbing her thigh with one hand, Harry used the other to hook a finger under her chin and kiss her shortly one more time.

“Hmm,” she sighed as they parted. “Hello.”

Harry smiled widely. “Hi.”

Ginny lied flat across the bench, soaking in the sun. “That was fun,” she told him. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Harry snorted at her, leaning back a bit and resting his head on the edge of the bench above them. He exhaled deeply, feeling a wave from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. It was strange, feeling this content and relaxed. It almost felt as if he were a different person, living a regular life. He continued to run his hand gently along her thigh, bringing the other one behind his head for some cushioning and closed his eyes, enjoying the light breeze.

After a few peaceful minutes, he felt Ginny lift herself up. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” he answered, still trying to cool himself down, thinking of innocuous objects.

“Wanna go for a fly around the pitch?” He opened his eyes to see her taking her wand out of her belt loop. “I can summon our brooms.”

“They’re in Gryffindor tower, Gin-“

“Or you can do it yourself if you’d like, like you did in the Triwizard Tournament. Might not impress me as much this time, though…”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You really are up to flying right now? Don’t you need a bit of a break?”

“Too much excitement for you, ay?” she suggested, giving him a quick beneath-the-belt glance, where said excitement was still protruding a bit. “I forgot that men have a longer refractory period than women do.”

Harry sat up, choking at her words. “We didn’t even do anything-“

“I’ll just do it myself,” she took her legs off of Harry’s and stood up, twirled her wand through her fingers. “No pun intended,” she winked. She then pointed in the general direction of the tower and declared, “Accio Firebolt and Cleansweep!”

“You,” started Harry, as he got to his feet and put his hands on her hips, “think you’re a real laugh, don’t you?”

“And I am,” she smiled, leaning in and placing a light peck on his lips. She then began to help Harry re-button his shirt. “You can always hang out for a bit and watch me fly till you feel ready, although, that may just excite you more-“

“You raise a valid point,” he admitted as he finished the last two buttons himself. “Let’s fly. We can have a race.”

“A challenge?” she pondered. They could hear their brooms zooming towards them. They turned, and Harry saw his Firebolt growing nearer and nearer. He reached out his hand, ready to grasp it.

But Ginny was too fast for him, catching his broom in one hand, hers in the other. She examined each of them for a moment, and then thrust her Cleansweep against Harry’s chest. He caught it, looking at her curiously.

“You’d outfly anyone with this broom,” she stated, holding Harry’s Firebolt in both hands now. “Give me a try on it, and then we’ll see if it’s the broom or the player. Deal?”

Harry laughed as Ginny didn’t even wait for his agreement, mounting the Firebolt and rising into the air. “You’re on.”

They both beat each other on the Firebolt, but Ginny came in a much closer second on the Cleansweep than Harry had. Once back on their own brooms, they played multiple rounds of one on one, and although Harry put up a good fight, Ginny wiped the floor with him; and she was right, it did excite him in one too many ways.

About an hour and a half later, they called it for the day. Harry had an idea to make a pit stop by the lake and put their feet in to cool off. They sat down and took their shoes and socks off, dipping their toes in. “Shit, that’s cold,” Harry exclaimed.

Ginny scoffed at him, leaning back on her hands as she kicked her feet in the water towards Harry, splashing him a bit. “Don’t be such a baby. Didn’t you swim in this thing for like, what, an hour and a half for the second task?”

“Yeah, but I had gills, so the water felt warm,” he explained, submerging his feet in more.

“I was so worried about you,” she confessed unabashedly. “You were in there for so long.”

Harry put a hand on hers and squeezed. “Made it out alive, didn’t I?”

“Don’t you always?” she quipped back. “I was so jealous of Ron,” she laughed, and at Harry’s raised eyebrow she went on, “because he was the thing you’d miss the most.”

“Yeah, well…”

“It was sweet, though. Sweeter than Krum’s being Hermione, anyway.”

“I mean, what else were they going to use…his fur coat?” he mused.

Ginny giggled, shaking her head. “If it were Ron, who’d you reckon they’d take: you or Hermione?”

“Not sure,” Harry shrugged, mulling it over. “A couple of months ago I would have said me, but you know, they’ve been getting on a little too well these days. It’s suspicious.”

“I don’t know what they’re waiting for,” Ginny told him. “Honestly, they’re obsessed with each other. I can’t believe that you and I got together before they did.”

“Me too-“ and then it dawned on him. He rounded on Ginny. “Wait a second. You’re kind of to blame for that one!”

Ginny look appalled. “Excuse me?”

“They were going to, last term! Hermione asked Ron to go with her to Slughorn’s Christmas party, and they were going to-“

“They were?” she asked in amazement. “I didn’t know that!”

“Yes, until…well, until you told him that she had snogged Krum.”

Ginny was bewildered. “I’m sorry, I don’t get the connection.”

“It just drove Ron mad,” he explained. “It was like a delayed betrayal-“

“But how did he not know that already?” Ginny questioned, outraged. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Well, I thought so,” muttered Harry. “But Ron’s a prat.”

“You said it, not me.”

Harry laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, then he was cross with her over nothing, and Lavender was not being subtle anymore, and just everything accumulated into him snogging her to get back at Hermione or something, but also…”

“To prove me wrong?” she finished for him. “His picture of Auntie Muriel too soggy at that point?”

Harry snorted. “I guess.”

“It’s not my fault he couldn’t handle the truth,” shrugged Ginny. “In any event, I think I did them both a favor.”

“How do you work that one out?”

“Well, now Hermione won’t have to teach him how to snog, hopefully, if either of them ever grows the bullocks to make a move. She teaches him enough as it is.”

“Alright, so maybe you did do them a favor,” Harry said. “But what about me? I was the one who had to deal with the repercussions!”

Ginny grabbed him by the chin and brought his face close to hers. “I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

He smiled as she dragged his lips to hers, and just as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, Ginny tore herself away and kicked the water toward him, splashing Harry in the face.

Ginny laughed as he choked on the water. She hit him on the back compassionately. “You good?”

Once Harry was able to breathe again, he turned on her. “You’re going to pay for-“

But she was ready. She pushed him into the lake. He could hear her laughing from under the water, but he did not dare emerge. He stayed under, close to the edge, until he heard a tiniest note of concern in her voice as she called out, “Harry?”

That’s when he popped up, grabbed her by her calves, and threw her in too.

The look in her eye was deadly when she stood up, letting her hair loose. “Oops?” he said, horribly feigning innocence.

But Harry couldn’t help but notice the way her wet shirt clung to her…and Ginny smartly took this as her opportunity to attack. She jumped on top of him, initiating a wrestling match, which eventually turned into a different and more enjoyable kind of wrestling match, until Ginny had the innovative idea to ride their brooms over the lake while skimming the water, engaging in a water-tag match.

It wasn’t until the Giant Squid unsuspectingly stretched out, accidentally whacking them with one of its tentacles, that their rumbling stomachs called attention to the time and they decided to call it.

It was still rather hot out, so as the sun warmed them up on their walk back up to the castle, they barely noticed how much water was dripping from them as they reentered the Great Hall, Harry’s arm around Ginny’s shoulders, hers around his waist, their free hands holding their brooms.

“Why,” Ron started as soon as they reached the table, where Ron and Hermione were filling up their plates for lunch, “the hell are you two sopping wet?”

Harry removed his arm from Ginny, took out his wand and muttered drying spell towards Ginny, then on himself. “Had an incident with the Giant Squid. No biggie,” answered Ginny as she sat down. “I’m starved. Pass the roast beef, Ron?”

Steaming, Ron passed her the platter. Harry sat down next to her and reluctantly looked at him. He could see Hermione from the corner of his eye shaking her head while looking at Ron, clearly exhausted by his behavior in the hours they’d been separated from them. “Just…just clarify something for me. Are you two dating? Or just…you know…”

The sentence hung in the air until Ginny chimed in. “Snogging in bodies of water? Can’t the two simultaneously be true?”

Feeling mortified, Harry reached for the water jug to fill up his cup as Ron questioned, “So you are dating, then?”

Harry mustered up the courage to look him in the eye and answered. “Yes. I, er, asked her to be my girlfriend last night.”

“And I said I’d think about it,” Ginny joked as she put a hand on his thigh beneath the table, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” Hermione interjected, smiling widely. “And so does Ron, even if he won’t admit it.”

There was a long pause, an elongated sigh, and then, “Well, I suppose,” Ron conceded. “You’re better than Dean or that git Michael Corner, anyway.”

“Appreciated, mate,” Harry laughed, the monster in his chest purring with satisfaction as he filled up his plate, Ginny beside him.