#fic: new divide

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

࣪ ˖✧ Sweet Coffee

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: The morning after Sean's return party, a sheepish Arthur faces the consequences of his drinking excess. ✦ Warnings: None, this is as fluffy as the first part. ✦ Words: 3,9k ✦ a/n: This is a sequel of this one shot! Please, read it before this one :) Also, I've taken the liberty to write this as if Arthur still had Boadicea, to me it was the best way to make him have a canon horse. Gonna think about a better solution in the future.

You opened your eyes, slowly. The ceiling of your tent was turning a bit, your heart feeling like it was on the verge of leaking out of your chest. It was as if your bed was a boat, pitching with the winds and the waves; you had to prevent yourself from throwing up, a spinning sensation making your guts feel rancid.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You thought to yourself while stretching in your cot, every fiber of muscles in your body feeling worn. Your brain was mushy, unable to form any complex reflection, your forehead hurting, your mouth dry. The consequence of every party; the goddamn hangover.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You slowly sat at the edge of your bed, taking the time to move your tired members, realizing your throat was extremely sore. You probably sang a little too much last night. You get up and walk to the little cleaning area of your tent which consisted of only a simple table topped with a little mirror, a bucket of water, and a solitary towel. Nothing fancy, but at least you had your own tent, which was already a grand luxury at camp.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You take long sips of water from the bucket before cleaning up your face, looking at it in the mirror. Of course, under your eyes, big shady circles, sickles of violet darkness under the sharp radiance of your pupils. It was part of the whole hangover package. You quickly fixed your hair and put on some fresh clothes, mindlessly.

Coffee, breakfast, Arthur.

Wait, what? You thought you were going on with your morning routine thoughtlessly, but here he was. Always following you, a shadow in the back of your mind; his stupid smile like imprinted on the obscure abyss of your psyche, shining, blazing, magnificent. Haunting.

You were thinking about him very often lately, maybe too often, you noted to yourself. John's word had sealed your opinion's fate on the matter: Arthur could have behaved that way with any other girl at camp.

And yet. Yet you longed for it, for last night to mean something, anything. For you to be more than just any girl to him. For the drunken honest words he had spoken before drifting away in the sweet caress of sleep to be true. You sighed. Too much false hope would lead your heart to be even more broken, you knew it.

And yet. The shadow of his smile. The sound of his deep, powerful laugh. Following you everywhere as you got out of your tent, eyes narrowing at the bright light of the day, almost as bright and vibrant as the subject of your thoughts; almost.

Your path led you more by habits than by an actual decision of yours to the campfire next to Pearson's wagon, and you were delighted to see one of your obsessive needs was already there: a hot coffee pot, releasing a small puff of smoke had been prepared. Blessed was the divine human being who made it. You took a cup and poured some of the holy providential liquid into it, the mere smell of it already waking you up a little bit. The taste was strong, bitter; rough like your life was as an outlaw in a gang, but at least it would help you clear your head and maybe get a certain someone out of it.

As you sipped on the warm beverage, you took a look around at your surroundings. The camp offered you a pitiful but quite amusing sight. It was a real mess, as if a tornado had passed by and turned everything upside down. The Ocean of empty bottles was still present, spilling everywhere between the different people's tents. People who were slowly emerging from them, with tired eyes and ruffled hair, some of them speaking more quietly than usual, rubbing their temples, navigating through shattered glass and chaos of debris, remnants of the agitation that had taken place the night before. You chuckled to yourself. One of the more feared gangs in the West? Certainly not after a party.

Abigail was already starting to clean the pieces of glass, getting angry about how this wasn't a proper place to raise her kid. Honestly, she was right, and you wanted to help her. Ms Grimshaw would probably force you to anyway, and this idea was reinforced when you noticed her from afar, already yelling at Karen to get up and start the cleaning.

Before getting attention from the strict woman, you took a step to go and do your part but stopped in your tracks. A familiar rugged face had appeared from his tent and was heading up in your direction.

Arthur was feeling too much. Too much sensations, too much feelings, just way too much of everything. His thoughts were trying to work as fast as he could considering his slowed brain, the aftermath of his excess from last night preventing him from being as efficient as normal.

The main focus of his reflection was you. He was obsessed to know what had happened, to understand why he had so many memories about you from last night, and quite intimate ones. He was praying he didn't do anything stupid with you; were you two even okay? Had he offended you? Had he been respectful? He needed to know, he needed to make sure he hadn't screwed everything up between you two. And at the same time, he was ashamed. So ashamed of having drunk so much he wasn't even able to remember what had happened. He was so anxious to confront you about it. To hear the truth, hear you say he had been a pig, and you'd never want to see him again, because that was probably what had happened. He was convinced of it.

As he saw you drinking your morning coffee by the fire from his cot, he quickly had changed, tried to clean up a bit, and made sure he had nothing stuck between his teeth or anything else of that type that could make him pass for an even bigger fool than he already was. He had chosen one of the less damaged shirts he had, a simple green but at least not holey flannel, all his clothes being more or less in a bad state anyway. Two leathered suspenders on, keeping black basic pants from falling. Damn, his reflection in the mirror looked even uglier than usual with his lack of sleep and post-party face. He sighed deeply, screw it. He needed to talk to you, at all costs, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything else properly otherwise. He tried to actually brush his hair, a thing he never bothered to do normally; he even tried to use some hair pomade, combed them in all directions possible, anything to make them look less messy. Nothing was working. He sighed again, getting angry, and just decided to put his hat on to hide this disaster.

This was already too complicated and he hadn't spoken any words yet.

Now walking straight to you, every step he took was followed by a worried thought, his heart tightening more and more as he was getting closer to the campfire you were standing next to. What had he done? Were you mad at him? Would you even agree to speak to him? Did he look good enough? Shit, he probably still must reeks of whiskey, he should have gone to town and taken a bath, stupid moron! But it was too late. Your eyes had crossed his, you had seen him approaching. There was no going back.

Finally arriving at the campfire, the poor nervous man stood at a respectful distance from you and cleared his throat. He didn't even had taken the time to think about what to say. Moron.

"G'd mornin', Y/N." He greeted you, his tone almost a bit too formal, a trace of his troubled state. His voice sounded huskier and harsher than what he wanted to, you were the first person he actually talked to since waking up and you could hear it with how hoarse his vocal cords were.

Besides it, you couldn't have guessed how much was going on inside his head; his expression was as neutral as usual, his own way of defending himself against the flurry of feelings that was taking place inside of him. You smiled at him, a mischievous, playful smile. You had so much to tease him about. Before the party, you two would already messed with each other a lot, and now you had a whole night of details you could use for it.

"Good morning, Mister Morgan... Guess someone was a little thirsty last night, mmh?" You answered, looking at him. His eyes crossed yours, he cracked up a smile too. His shoulders seemed to go down a bit, less tensed. In reality, he was so relieved to hear you tease him and to see your smile. You weren't mad. He silently thanked the Lord for that.

"I, erm... Maybe I drank a little t'much..." He replied with an embarrassed grin, his eyes looking at his feet before planting them back right into yours. He decided to ask you right away. Arthur never beat around the bush, this time was no exception. "L'sten, I don't... I don't remember much 'bout last night and... I hope I didn't bother ya."

His bright blue pupils were looking intensely into yours as he waited for your answer. He always looked at people like this, always keeping eye contact, as if it was a quiet duel and he would lose it if he stopped; but God, it made your heart melt a little.

"Oh, Arthur." You started, smiling some more realizing he was actually worried about you. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. To me at least. I remember you losing your nerves and punching Micah in the face." You answered his question, chuckling in the end.

"Why, this bastard had it comin'..." Arthur replied, scratching the side of his jaw, the slight grin still present on his lips, telling himself that it was definitely something he was capable of.

"You sing pretty good when you're drunk..." You added, tone playful.

Arthur sighed, he was enjoying more and more of this conversation he had feared in the beginning.

"Oh stop it, I don't." He retorted, his fingers scratching one last time before falling to his belt, both his hands gripping it, a standing position he often had when talking and didn't know what to do with his arms. Honestly, you were quite fond of it.

"You want some coffee, songbird ?" You questioned with a teasing tone, already grabbing a new cup and the pot. You knew he would say yes.

"Yeah, thank you." He replied at first, before frowning. "Don't ya start calling me that!" He added with a firmer tone, but his small smile was still stuck on his face while grabbing the hot cup you were handing to him.

"You're also quite a dancer..." You teased him once more with your mischievous voice, knowing you were pushing his limits with your remarks.

"Damn it, woman! Can't believe I was worried 'bout ya, while ya're teasin' me like this..."

"Yeah, I'm such a nasty woman..."

"Nah, you're the sweetest." He corrected you, a bit too quickly for it to be innocent. A quick, subtle flicker in his eyes showed you he was surprised with himself; the words had come out on their own.

You smiled widely, cheeks turning a bit red. You were praying it wasn't too obvious to him. Arthur was still looking at you, two indigo miniature seas fixated on you, even while drinking his beverage. The more he was, the more those vivid memories he had were making their way back to his mind. While looking at your waist, he remembered having held it at some point during the party, which explained how he learned how your clothes felt underneath his fingers. His breath quietly hitched when he realized how he knew about the softness of your leg: he recalled having an arm curled up around it at the end of the night. Shit... He really had been unruly. After a short silence, Arthur spoke again. He wanted to make sure, he needed to make sure.

"Erm... Can I ask ya if we... Did anythin' happen b'tween us while I was drunk ?"

"No, you've just been a bit... Tactile. But nothing happened." You answered his question honestly, wanting him to know the truth. After all, Arthur was your friend, and there was a whole step between gently teasing and actually tormenting him. "Oh and, you said you loved me."

Arthur almost choked on his coffee, a short strangled sound escaping from his throat, some drops of the hot liquid falling on his shirt. The only decent shirt he had was ruined. But it was the least of his problems. What the actual Hell had gotten into him? He was an even worse fool than he thought, and the bar was already low.

"I... What ?" Were the only words he was able to form, one of his hands wiping the coffee from his chin.

"Don't worry, John told me you've made it a habit to tell women that when you're drunk, apparently. We don't have to make a bit deal out of this." You reassured him. He really looked ashamed of his behavior, and you didn't wanted to make him feel even worse.

But Oh Lord, if only you knew. If only you could have understood how much he wanted to make a big deal out of it; how much he had wanted to properly say those three words to you. He was almost disappointed in a way, that you were so quick to forget about it, as if it had been a simple joke to you, something amusing a drunkard had said in a moment of alcoholic eccentricity.

"Ah, alright. Well, I'm happy ya not mad at me." He simply added, honestly not knowing what to say or how to act anymore.

Tell her. Tell her she means the World to you. Tell her you have spoken the truth. This was the best chance you would have.

But the words were stuck, and as fast as a breeze would have swept away petals of flowers, Ms. Grimshaw asked for you with her usual severe call, and off you were gone, wishing him a good day and telling him he didn't have to worry about last night, even adding your typical teasing comments, advising him to join a choir were he could flourish his singing talent.

Looking at you walking off, he sighed again, calling himself a moron for at least the twentieth time since he had gotten up. Looking down at his cup of coffee, almost empty, just like the hurtful sensation he was experiencing right now inside his heart, he got angry again. This was enough. He threw the rest of the coffee on the ground, put the cup in his satchel out of habit, and walked straight to his horse.

The afternoon passed slowly and quietly. You basically spent it tidying up the camp, the number of dishes almost twice as big as usual, and the endless amount of bottles and garbage looking like it was only getting larger the more you were cleaning them up. Thankfully, Ms Grimshaw had put every girl in camp to work too, and you weren't alone on your impossible task while the men were back on their usual activities, whether it was lazying around for Uncle and the Reverand, guarding camp for Bill and Charles, or going back on jobs for the others. You hadn't seen Arthur since your morning discussion with him, and you had concluded he probably had gone somewhere to do his own work. As the sun was getting down, the camp had ultimately taken back its usual appearance, and you were finally free from your chores.

You decided to go to the edge of the camp, behind the wagons, where the cliff was starting and was offering a breathtaking view of the mountains in front of you. At this time of day, in the dusky sun, the landscape was painted with beautiful golden and bronze colors, dazzling blend of warm tones, ephemeral treasure from the last sunrays of the day before the settlement of the night's darkness.

Lost in your contemplation, you didn't hear footsteps approaching. The shrill and recognizable sound of spurs along with the heavy stomping of a horse's hooves made you turn your head from the literal work of art you had under your nose, and your gaze fell on another one from a different nature; Arthur was walking up to you, holding Boadicea's reins into his hands, his blue gaze already fixated on you, slight frown on his forehead, looking as determined as if he was going in for a fight.

He looked different from earlier, you swore he was wearing a brand new shirt you had never seen, a fresh white one, and a black jacket which must have gone with a fancy suit. As he was heading towards you, you noticed and could smell he had taken a bath, and trimmed his beard more than usual. He looked neat, refreshed, it was quite unusual for him. You could feel how your blood was rushing at the simple sight of all this: he was undoubtedly handsome, as breath-taking as the landscape around you.

"Y/N." He greeted you with a determined voice, once he had come close to you. He let go of the reigns, letting his mare free, but she stayed right where she was and started to graze happily. He took his hat off and held it in his hands, probably out of politeness. Such a gentleman, as always around women. You had always found it quite endearing how rough he was but at the same time how respectful towards girls, complying with conventions just like an honest man would. However you were a bit confused, he had never bothered to do that with you before, only with the women he didn't knew.

"Arthur, are you alright? Did Trelawny force you to get clean up ?" You joked a bit, genuinely surprised by his appearance and sudden polite behavior.

"What? N-no..." He stuttered. He never stuttered. You could feel it flowing into you like last night: this terrible, powerful feeling of hope. Your whole being was filled with it as your eyes were glued to him, like a moth to a flame, like a moon to its celestial body.

"I erm... I got somthin' for ya." He said almost shyly. Shyly. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing. It was nearly too good to be true.

Maybe... Maybe the words he had spoken to you... Maybe his tactile behavior... Your thoughts were going entirely crazy, spiraling around the deep feeling that something really important was on the verge of happening. You watched, in awe, as Arthur turned his back to you in order to pull off from Boadiccea's saddle a gorgeous flower bouquet.

"I know it ain't much but... I've picked 'em for you..." He said quietly, his voice slow and deep as usual, but also a bit more vulnerable. You could see just how flustered he was, how unusual it was for him to put himself in such a situation. And it made you more happy than anything for such a long time. Your eyes, traveling from his insanely cute bashful face to the flowers, were now stuck on it. The colors were vibrant and surprisingly well-matched, almost like a painting, the petals going from deep red to a warm golden yellow. You couldn't prevent a deep blush from flushing your cheeks; it really was warming your heart.

"They're beautiful! Thank you so much..." You marveled, vision attached to his gift, admiring every detail about it. After a short moment, as you realized he had felt silent, you spoke again, a wave of boldness crashing onto you. He had made a step towards you, now it was your turn.

"Arthur... The words you said to me last night..." You began, your eyes slowly ascending to look at his again. To your surprise, you found him looking away.

Another hint, another glimmer of the internal storm of emotions Arthur was feeling right now. Your own heart started to beat faster; the blood flooding so fast in your veins at this point you're wondering how the hell your body is keeping it all up together without collapsing under the pressure.

Arthur doesn't answer. Instead, he simply looks back at you, a flash of apprehension in his turquoise diamonds. He stays silent, unable to say anything more. His own heart must be on the verge of bursting cause you recognize the faintest of red on his own cheeks and a little vein on his temple. What a sight, to have this grown man, one of the stronger men in the gang, probably the fastest gunslinger of the State, blushing because of you.

"Those words were true, right?" You finish your sentence with an encouraging expression and the softest smile you had.

Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes for just a few seconds before planting them back into yours and nodding. Still silent, still stoic, still nervous. The slight blush was unhurriedly spreading on his face just like a flaming stain of watercolor on a canvas. Your very own art piece.

"I love you too, Arthur." You finally confided to him, voice soft and low, as if it was a confession you would have told him in the middle of the night, intimate as secrets you'd both tell each other in the ear while lying together in the same bed, arms interlaced, heart intertwined, as everything around you both would disappear. And in the moment, for Arthur, everything did.

He carefully brought a hand on the side of your face, never breaking his deep starring until the last second, and slowly bent over to put his lips on yours. Every move he was making was measured, contained; the exact opposite of his unleashed behavior at the party. You could feel just how cautious he was in that moment, as if he was scared to hurt you, or make you flee.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, never letting go of the bouquet that was now hanging behind his back in your thankful right hand. His own was still on your head, fingers gently caressing your skin as the kiss was dragging on. His lips, although chapped, felt good against yours, taking their rightful place there.

After what felt like an eternity of sweetness, he pulled back. If you thought he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to his cheeks right now, the deep crimson shade having completely recovered the canvas. Finally, his body's muscles relaxing, his features softening, a big, wide smile appeared on his face; the same that had been haunting you since the night before. The stupid smile. Just for you.

"I love you too, for real I mean." He let out in a soft drawling voice, once you had never heard coming from him. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, closing his eyes, not even processing this was really happening.

"I hope you'll sing again for me, Arthur." You couldn't help but add, a playful tone and a slight smirk on your lips.

"For ya, maybe, sweetheart. But don't ya come complainin' about the rainin' after."

[changbunnies]

Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading. 

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically. 

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see. 

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely. 

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him. 

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read! 

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises. 

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken. 

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful! 

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t. 

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind. 

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there. 

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue. 

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you. 

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!” 

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. ���Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before. 

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even. 

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained. 

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house. 

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances. 

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world? 

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone. 

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!” 

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips. 

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least. 

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that. 

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now. 

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him. 

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller. 

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath. 

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you. 

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before. 

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you. 

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.” 

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him. 

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day. 

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror. 

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually�� 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you. 

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all. 

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body. 

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist. 

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it. 

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling. 

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. 

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock. 

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.  

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away. 

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right. 

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release. 

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.” 

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky. 

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer. 

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs. 

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them. 

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away. 

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening. 

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems. 

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

[r2d2lover]

Healing Touch Part 2

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader (QuidditchPlayer!Mattheo x Healer!Reader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, cunnilingus, aged-up characters, Hogwarts Uni AU, fluff, like maybe angst

Summary:

Mattheo Riddle comes back for a check up and an answer. (AKA happy smutty October). Part 1.

“Mr. Riddle is back. He’s set up in the same bed as last night and only asking for you. Something about his arm not being set right. I thought I taught you better than that,” Madam Pomfrey scolded you the second you walked through the door to report for your shift. 

“Oh! Okay, I will check on him immediately,” You nearly dropped your items at the matron’s disapproval and hurry to set your things aside. You knew Mattheo said that he would be back the next day, but a part of you hoped that he had forgotten. You needed to buy more time to process what had happened between the two of you, so you had foolishly dodged him around the corridors and snuck food out of the dining hall just so he wouldn’t have an opportunity to corner you. You were surprised that he played you at your own game and decided to corner himself instead. You held your breath while you walked to the back of the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey gave you another look before disappearing into her office. With an embarrassingly shaky hand, you pulled back the curtains around Mattheo’s bed and revealed a smirk that drove a heat deep into your core. Mattheo leaned back in the bed, propped up with pillows with both of his arms folded behind his head. His expression didn’t change when he saw you; if anything, he seemed to grow more amused at the scowl etched into your face.

“I have a feeling you’ve been avoiding me,” Mattheo kicked his legs up on the bed with a big grin. “Now, do you want me to take my pants off or would you like the honors?”

“You can keep your pants on, thank you very much,” You sighed, turning away quickly so that Mattheo wouldn’t catch your reddened cheeks or creeping smile. You placed a temperature gauge into his mouth, which he opened up with a wink. You shook your head while rolling your eyes and a humored scoff, but still you brushed the back of your hand over his forehead and cheeks to feel for any clamminess. “I was told it was your arm that needed looking at.”

“Oh, I just had to say something that sounded serious enough for Pomfrey to let me wait on you,” Mattheo shrugged nonchalantly. “Your work is impeccable. I recovered fine after a good sleep and believe me, I slept really well after last night.”

“Your little stunt could put me on probation with Madam Pomfrey,” You frowned to fight your smile. You pulled out a fresh roll of bandages which delighted Mattheo greatly. He hooked his thumb through his belt loop and shook it in invitation. “And, by the way, I have not been avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Then maybe I was wrong. You don’t really seem the type to run and hide. You’re really bad at it, by the way,” Mattheo mocked. You bit down on your lip to save your pride while you started to undo Mattheo’s belt to get to his thigh. “Though, I will admit, I’m loving this new bashful side of you.”

“I’m not bashful, I’m just doing my job.”

“Are you really going to tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself last night? C’mon, you’re wounding my pride and I think there’s only one type of medicine that can fix it,” Mattheo watched you carefully as you slid his pants down. The memory of last night flooded your rationality and your mouth ran dry. Mattheo chuckled and assisted you in sliding his pants down further. You smiled upon inspection of your work, which was wrapped tightly enough that no extra bleeding seeped through. “Now you’re just a tease. Smiling at me with me exposed like this? Now’s not the time to act so innocent.”

“I told you it was a one time thing, Mattheo. If you need something for your pride, I’m sure you have a line of groupies who would gladly medicate you,” The moment you pressed the cold bandage shears against his leg, you could feel his entire body shiver, which in turn made you copy his movements. 

“Sure, but none of them are as cute as you. Or so adept with their fingers,” Mattheo let out a sigh of relief when you cut the bandage free, revealing a well healed scar thanks to magic. 

“Good news is that you don’t need another bandage. Your leg healed overnight,” You ignored Matteo’s joke and gave his leg a once over with the same salve from last night. He grabbed your wrist as a way to grab your attention. 

“Hey,” Mattheo’s eyes bore into yours. His gaze was much more serious than before and it made your skin erupt in goosebumps again. “I told you last night: This isn’t a joke. But if you want me to stop, I will.”

“I’m saving my own pride. You can’t blame me for questioning your intentions,” You reply, forcing the words past the stop in your throat. “Last night was fun, but that’s not really what I’m about.”

“This isn’t a one off thing for me, princess. I know that’s what you think of me, but you’ve patched me up more than once and you… you actually see me for who I am. Not my last name, not my jersey number, you know…” Mattheo ran a finger across your cheek before letting out a heavy sigh. You froze in place and let your mouth hang open while you tried to figure out a response. Is he serious? It’s all just a cliche. “Merlin… Did I misread this whole thing? Was your conversation just… good bedside manner? Please, just say something.”

“Mattheo- I… No, I do have feelings for you! I just- I…” You finally manage to spit something out in your flustered state. Your confession stuns the both of you into silence. Mattheo's eyes widened, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly, but your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that you wouldn’t have been able to hear a thing anyway.

“You do?” Mattheo croaked in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m not great with feelings and such,” You laugh awkwardly. Mattheo shook his head and smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You reached out and gently caressed the creases. He reached out in reply and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your skin.

"I'm not great with them either," Mattheo admitted, his voice low and intimate. "But I know how I feel about you. I've known for a while now."

"I thought... I thought you just saw me as the team healer," You whispered, hardly daring to believe this was real. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but all you saw was sincerity and warmth. Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head again.

"At first, maybe. But you're so much more than that. You're brilliant, kind, and you challenge me in ways no one else does. I can't stop thinking about you. In the infirmary… out of the infirmary," Mattheo’s voice deepened and he snaked his hand towards the back of your head. Your breath caught in your throat as Mattheo's fingers tangled in your hair. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into him, drawn by an invisible force. His eyes flickered to your lips and despite the two of you having seen each other naked, you never felt more vulnerable. "Merlin…May I...?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Mattheo closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was gentle at first, a mere brush of lips, but it quickly deepened as years of pent-up emotions poured out. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You smiled slightly, an odd sense of pride bubbling at making the mighty Quidditch player nervous under your touch. Realizing where you were and on the clock no less, you had to pull away. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Mattheo rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

“We actually can’t have sex in here again,” You scolded playfully. Mattheo stopped you before you could fully step away, his arm strong against your waist. “Madam Pomfrey isn’t too thrilled with me, remember?”

“Mmm, you’re no fun. Fine, I’ll restrain myself for now. Meet me in my dorm after dinner,” Mattheo let a brazen hand travel down to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

“What a romantic request,” You joked, pulling him off the bed. “Tell my boss I didn’t mess you up on your way out.”

“Will do, princess,” Mattheo spun you around for one final kiss. “And it wasn’t a request. It was a demand.”

Mattheo wasted no time in dragging you into his room after dinner ended. You barely had time to finish your meal before he marched over, made up some lie about needing your assistance with something, and pulled you out of the Great Hall with his arm protectively - no, possessively - slung across your waist. You laughed at the whispers and jealous looks thrown at the two of you, but let the man practically carry you out.

The moment the door to Mattheo's room closed behind you, he wasted no time in pressing you against it, his lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. Your hands tangled in his curls as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless.

"I've been waiting for this all day," Mattheo hummed against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You shivered, arching into him.

"Impatient, are we?" You teased, but your words were cut short by a gasp as he sucked on your pulse point.

"You have no idea," Mattheo murmured, his hands roaming your body with an urgency that matched his kisses. He slipped a feverishly warm hand up your shirt and began pulling the blouse apart with so much strength that you were worried the buttons would pop. "Do you know how hard it was to focus on Quidditch practice when all I could think about was you? I thought about falling off my broom just so you could come patch me up again."

“That’s pretty dark. You don’t have to go to such measures just for my attention,” You smirked, fumbling for his belt. You dragged a hand over the building tension of his pants, causing him to groan.

“Lose the attitude or I’ll lose it for you,” Mattheo warned, raking his fingers down your body. He stopped at your breast, tugging the perched bud to make you moan, then moved down to the thin fabric of your underwear. Your breath hitched as Mattheo's fingers danced along the edge of your underwear, teasing but not quite touching where you desperately wanted him. He slowly slid a finger between you and the fabric and grinned. “So wet for me already. Does being a brat turn you on?”

You could only moan in response and squirmed against the door, trying to create more friction, but he held you firmly in place with his other hand. His finger traced lazy circles, deliberately ignoring your clit that practically pulsed with desire.

"Answer me," Mattheo demanded, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, I do. But I’ll be good! I’ll be so good…" You whined, your hips bucking involuntarily. "Please, Mattheo."

"That's more like it. I love it when you beg," Mattheo chuckled darkly, finally slipping a finger inside you. Your head fell into his chest with a gasp as he began working his finger. With the little composure you had left, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of him with frenzied greed. You could see the fabric of his shirt bunch up as you frantically unbuttoned it, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Thank you, Quidditch. 

You started placing kisses on his neck, eager to move your mouth down to his chest. You could taste the bitterness of his cologne, but the warm taste of his skin took over your senses. As your lips moved down his neck, you could hear Mattheo's breathing growing heavier and more ragged. He hastily tangled his hands in your hair and pulled it back up to press it against the door. 

“Get on the bed,” Mattheo growled, tearing himself off of you. You obeyed and shed yourself of the rest of your clothes before lying back on his unmade bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch Mattheo to work on your poor attempt at undoing his belt. Mattheo's own fingers fumbled with the buckle, his usual dexterity hindered by his burning desire. You couldn't help but smirk at his struggle, a small act of defiance even as you lay exposed before him. Finally, he managed to undo his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. He was a sign of divinity proven in a full view of his carved muscles and dark briefs. You licked your lips, practically drooling at the sight. 

Mattheo climbed on top of you for a quick kiss of desperation while his hand returned to your breast. He massaged the soft flesh, flexing his fingers deep into the mound. His lips quickly moved down to the rest of your body, stopping like his hand did on your breast earlier and taking your nipple in between his teeth. You let out a shrill cry and pressed your back up to meet his mouth. However, he kept moving his mouth down further until he reached your core. Mattheo's breath was hot against your sensitive skin, causing you to shiver with anticipation. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, before dipping his head and running his tongue along your folds. You gasped, your hands instinctively grasping at the sheets beneath you. Your hand flew to his hair, but he laced his fingers with yours and held it against the bed. His skilled mouth worked you into a frenzy, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue. Your hips bucked against his face, seeking more friction, more pleasure. You chanted his name and squeezed his hand tighter as his tongue worked you. Mattheo's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued. You could feel the pressure building, a coiling heat in your lower abdomen that threatened to consume you. Just as you were about to reach your peak, Mattheo pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. 

“Mattheo, I was so close-” You whined pathetically. Mattheo shook his head with a sinister grin. 

“That’s for your attitude and your cheeky little smirk earlier,” Mattheo licked his lips of your arousal. He crawled back up your body, pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only intensified your desire. His hand trailed down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He hooked his hands under your legs and pulled you closer to him while pressing your knees to your chest. You felt the blunt tip of his arousal pressing against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. Mattheo's eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with need.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you, stretching you deliciously. You both moaned in unison as he filled you completely. Mattheo stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. It was different than the purely needy fever from last night, as if he trying to claim every inch of you. His forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling in the charged air between you.

“Fuck. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your size,” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut so that you would only be able to feel his every inch working you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. Mattheo obliged, starting with slow, deep strokes that had you gasping for air. His hips rolled against yours in a steady rhythm and he intertwined your hands with his, pressing you down into the bed while he started to move faster. You struggled to open your eyes as he started to scratch the spot you needed, but you knew that he would’ve wanted you to look at him.

“And I don’t even need to ask,” Mattheo snapped his hips with a grunt. “Such a good girl.”

The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear as he watched your every reaction, savoring each gasp and moan that escaped your lips. Mattheo's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he drove deeper into you. You mewled with every movement of his hips and let his name roll off your lips in drunken lust. The previous coiling heat in your abdomen returned with a vengeance, threatening to overwhelm you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, desperate for more. Mattheo seemed to sense your need, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. The pressure built higher and higher, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Please, Mattheo,” You begged helplessly, bringing your hips up to meet his. Every word that followed was a filthily desperate drawl. “I’ve been good! You said I was good… I’m your good girl.”

“What a dirty mouth, but you can do better than that,” Mattheo dug his fingers into your thighs with a matched need.

“Mmm- I’m so close. Please, can I cum? Please,” You pleaded with no shame. Mattheo let out another growl and moved his hand down to your clit. 

"That's it, let go for me," Mattheo panted, watching you come undone beneath him with dark, hungry eyes. The combination of his skilled fingers and relentless thrusts pushed you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Mattheo groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. Your vision blurred with the white hot stars of desire and Mattheo followed soon after. Your body trembled as aftershocks rolled through you, but Mattheo didn't slow his pace. He gripped your hips tightly, angling you just right as he pounded into you. The overstimulation bordered on too much, yet you craved more. 

The moment stalled when Mattheo’s hips did and your breath finally caught up to you. He collapsed on the bed next to you, practically on top of you because of the small space. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your body still tingling from the intense climax. Mattheo's warm weight pressed against you, his skin slick with sweat. You turned your head to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and tousled hair. His eyes met yours, softer this time. He pressed a kiss on your forehead and lightly massaged your still-trembling thighs. Your fingers lazily traced patterns on Mattheo's chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. He hummed appreciatively at your touch, his own hand skimming up and down your spine.

"That was..." You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Incredible? Mind-blowing? The best you've ever had?" Mattheo patted down your wild hair. 

"Don't get cocky," You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. Mattheo let out a laugh before rolling back over you and covering you in kisses while you squealed. With him hovering over you, you could only smile and drink in his beautiful face. The gentle curve of his jaw, the sparkle in his eyes, the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled at you - all of it belonged to you now. As his mouth met yours, you felt like the real champion.

Divider by @chachachannah

[madaqueue]

then beg

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

a/n: BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK srry guys idk what came over me when i was writing this (i need him so bad)

you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold out, your teeth biting down into your lower lip so hard you could nearly taste blood.

“c’mon now, sweetheart, just one little word and this’ll all be over,” your boyfriend purrs above you, his black hair cascading over his shoulders and tickling your bare skin.

you shake your head no, grasping onto any remaining pieces of resolve, collecting the shreds of your determination, to last just one more minute - that’s all you need, you try to reassure yourself.

truthfully, you never thought you’d be the one in this position - after all, it was you who originally made the bet with suguru.

you had put up with enough of his teasing, enough of being called ‘needy’ for just wanting to kiss him, and today you decided to stand up for yourself.

when he walked into your apartment, he just looked so perfect in his work clothes, his dress shirt rolled up above his elbows, his bangs falling across his forehead, how could you not want to fuck him on the spot?

“you’re so sweet when you’re all desperate like this,” he chuckles as you paw at his belt before he even has a chance to get his shoes off.

“suguru, i’m not that desperate,” you huff, stepping back and crossing your arms over your chest in defiance.

"oh yeah?" he tilts his head in amusement. "you couldn’t even wait ten minutes from when i got home, you needed me to fuck you so bad.”

“yeah. and you know what? i’ll prove it,” you state confidently. “ten minutes. i bet you i can go ten minutes without you fucking me.” 

“you’ve got yourself a deal, angel,” he smirks, slowly waltzing over to you. his hands meet your waist, his touch sending shockwaves through you as his palms kneed the soft flesh of your ass.

“d-deal,” you stammer, conviction beginning to waver as he leans over, placing wet kisses along your neck.

and now, it’s been nine minutes of geto cruelly teasing you, bringing you to the brink of your release before pulling back.

he rubs his cock over your slick folds, the pressure driving you insane as you rut your hips up off the bed, craving anything more he’s willing to give you.

but, of course, he was not going to lose so easily.

“you poor needy thing,” he coos, watching you writhe in agony below him. “i told you, all you have to do is say ‘please’ and i’ll fuck you.”

it was becoming too much, the constant taunting and temptation overwhelming you. your body felt like it was on fire, everywhere he touches igniting new flames.

before you can stop yourself, your lips move on their own.

“please,” you blurt out weakly.

“what was that, princess? couldn’t quite hear you,” he teases, holding a hand up to his ear.

“please, pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you babble desperately, “please fuck me, please suguru, please.”

with your eyes tightly shut you can’t see the way he grins, more than happy to give into your demands.

without a moment of hesitation he thrusts into you easily, a moan escaping your lips as you finally get what you had been craving. your warm walls envelop him as your eyes nearly roll back, your pussy beginning to clench around him.

“h-hah,” he whispers, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already, i knew you were desperate but fuck.”

his words sound fuzzy, far away; right now, all you can feel is him, the fullness, the stretch, the sweet burning pleasure of his cock inside you. after what felt like an eternity of being denied it, you get suddenly pushed over the edge of your orgasm.

“p-please,” you moan, the words aimlessly tumbling out of your mouth, “please, please.”

your vision goes white as your entire body shakes, racked with wave after wave of ecstasy. broken pleas continue to fill the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore, you just know that you need more.

as you come down from your high, you finally open your eyes to meet suguru’s, a glimmer of desire in his dark irises.

you feel his thumb stroke the tears off your face that you hadn’t realized were falling before he wipes the drool that had pooled at the corner of your open mouth away. he kisses you messily, his tongue easily sliding between your parted lips, his cock still buried inside you.

“you really are needy,” he breathes in awe through a smirk, “but since you asked so nicely, i’ll keep fucking you like the desperate slut you are, how’s that sound?”

blinking up at him through glazed-over eyes, you nod. “please?”

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Me, working on The Giggle chapter of my watching the show fic: and what if I just sprinkled in a little Divided Loyalties here....a little Solitaire there....What if I made him worse....

[space-writes]

new Obedience ebook!

Since i'm this close to finishing the first book of Arc 4, I decided to put together all of Arc 3 into a nice lil ebook! You can download it on dropbox here.

You can also download Arc 1, Arc 2, and the Fluffbruary shorts if you'd like the ~entire collection~

what's Obedience?

Obedience is a D/s M/M series featuring two wizard boys, the kinky magic they get up to, and the feelings they definitely don’t have for each other. It's a teacher/student erotic romance with fast-burn sex and slow-burn feelings that will make you want to throw things at me.

Read if you like:

gay drow wizards

oops how'd all this emotional plot get into my kink fic

mutual pining

inappropriate uses of dungeons & dragons spells

closed off dom x enthusiastic nerdy sub

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[d3athmaskd1v1n3]

Welcome

I am an amateur horror and yandere writer. I made this blog so I can share my writing as well as reblog other fics I like. I ask that minors do not interact. This blog may reblog smut, and the stuff I write will be of a disturbing nature. If you are uncomfortable with this content, then please block me. I do not condone any of the behaviour I write about IRL. This is all about fantasy.

I also write non yandere fics, as well.

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR:

Kingdom Hearts (Mostly characters from Organization XIII)

Death Note

Fallout (Just the games. I haven't watched the TV show.)

Elder Scrolls

Batman (Mostly Arkhamverse. I am new to this fandom so I'll need time to learn more before I write anything good for this one.)

Pokémon

Mystic Messenger

I will not write:

Smut or romantic scenarios of characters under the age of 18.

Incestuous relationships.

Canon x Canon.

I hope you all will enjoy my work!

[m1d-45]

if you don't mind i'd love to see what'd you think it'd be like being found by razor first in sagau!!! he's my main and like a son to me <3. also i am handing you little cat shaped cookies, ur writing is always a treat when its on my dash!!!!!!

lightning sigil

a/n: in return to your delightful gift, i bring you this small love letter to the first character i ever pulled. i’m glad to know that i have brightened people’s day, and hope to reflect this kindness back to you <3

word count: 1111!!!

-> warnings: spoilers for razor lore / story quest? i suppose?

-> lowercase intended

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

< masterlist >

you land in wolvendom, lamp grass cradling your fallen form. a soft blue glow lights up the dark forest, and despite the stars shining through the leaves, you can see a fair distance around you. the plants and ferns curl around and hold your curious hand, brushing carefully into your palm. it’s…. unnatural, for certain, but it isn’t unnerving in the way you’d expect.

you spend a little longer than you’d like to admit in a trance of sorts, watching the wind blow flowers against your wrist and leaves flutter between your fingers. it’s strange, but certainly a welcome distraction from waking up in a strange environment.

speaking of…

you inspect the lamp grass around you, ignoring the odd way they preen into your touch. are they really lamp grass? or is this some weird dream? it has to be, right? the wind doesn’t just… do that, it doesn’t curl bushes into your hair and brush away errant strands with the care of an actual hand. it doesn’t in your world.

the brush rattles with the breeze, but you don’t pay much attention, chalking it up to the same strange wind as the one affecting the flora around you, continuing to inspect the small plant in your hand. the small bulb seems to glow brighter just by being next to your skin, and your brain calls up some explanation of bioluminescence from some science class or odd youtube video.

sticks creak and leaves rustle, sounding like somebody’s approaching. you turn in the direction of the sound, scooting back until your back hits a tree. you were too distracted to notice earlier, but as you stare into the dark space between the tree trunks, you realize how unsettlingly dark it is. you can’t see anything.

your breath picks up, your fingers threading into the grass. it weaves back into your hand, cool with nighttime, and you falter momentarily on the fact that wind couldn’t possibly be affecting it this way.

the bushes part.

red eyes stare at you from the pitch black, something shimmering in the darkness besides them. you can’t look away, even as your spine prickles with nerves and unease, transfixed by something that seems so familiar and yet should have you running.

the eyes tilt. the bushes part further.

white hair comes into view first, then a dark hood and large white pendants. dark army-green pants fold and bend over a crouched form, buckles and tassels clicking over the bushes, somehow not catching.

you clutch at the grass. it holds you back.

“you…”

you can’t move as the boy—you tell yourself you don’t know his name, you tell yourself it’s not the same guy—approaches, kneeling in front of you. his hands are gloves, the leather shockingly warm where it reaches for your hand.

“you’re here.”

the shock and emotion in his voice surprises you, alongside the implicit recognition in his words. he knew you? he…

you tell yourself again that this can’t be the razor you know. this can’t be the one you’ve poured time and energy into, this isn’t the same boy as from your game, he’s not the one you cooed and called after. he’s not the one you cried over when he got hurt, he’s not the one you spent hours and hours grinding for and perfecting and leveling and loving-

not-razor tugs at your wrist. “stand. you should not be with the grass.”

you ignore the chord in your heart that burns at his voice and let him pull you up, at a loss for words. you want to say something, it feels awkward not breaking the silence, but you dont know what to say. what can you? is this version of razor aware of what you did for him? what kind of dream are you even having right now?

he steadies you with another hand on your arm, frowning. you didn’t even realize you were swaying.

“you okay?”

you nod. he doesn’t seem convinced.

“come. follow.”

he pulls you along, one of his hands falling away to push aside branches in your path. moonlight streams in bars from the sky, fireflies flickering along the path. you cling to razor’s hand, walking a little closer to him. the night is cold, and though the wind creeping through the trees was comforting before, it’s only off-putting now.

he makes an odd half-huff, holding your hand tighter. the noise doesn’t sound irritated, somehow, even as you’re certain it would from anybody else.

he leads you to a small ledge, coming up to your waist, and clambers up with ease. before you can struggle over the rock, he reaches his hands over the edge.

“here. i help you.”

the simple dialogue makes you smile.

he pulls you up and over the edge easily, standing and smoothly pulling you up alongside him. the action is quick, one that leaves you a bit disoriented, but you quickly get your bearings again. after checking you over, he gives a self-satisfied smile and continues walking.

“oh- ah, where are we going?”

your words come out strange and off-kilter in your continued confusion, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“place to sit. wait.”

“for?”

“wolf pack!”

he says it with such pride, you can see the affection in his eyes even from your angle at his side. they really are his family..

you come into a clearing with a large rock in the center, the moon falling through a gap onto a large portion of it. razor leads you near the center of the moonlit portion, sitting down.

“once wolves return, we will bring you somewhere better. less cold.”

you stare, watching as he fusses with his cloak. why would they take you in? surely they didn’t…

after a moment, razor managed to remove his jacket, leaning in to wrap it around your shoulders. it’s small, unsurprisingly, but warm in a way you don’t expect.

“you know me?”

razor smiles as he sits back, an awkward imitation yet endearing all the same. when he speaks, you catch a glimpse of fangs.

“you’re my lupical.”

[lith-myathar]

.

[themyscirah]

Reading shit comics kind of sucks but at least I get the satisfaction of proving my own point w this

[powerful-niya]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝑷𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑭𝑼𝑳_𝑵𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

・ ゜ ʚɞ  𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 ・ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔, 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆!

✰𝑷𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍_𝑵𝒊𝒚𝒂 | 𝑵𝒊𝒚𝒂 | 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅 | 𝑨𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑶𝒘𝒏| 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.𝒏𝒆𝒕 | ✰

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✰𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅: 𝑺𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 2021 | 𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑶𝒇 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 | 𝑴𝒚 𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑩𝒐𝒙 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏! | ✰

✰💌 - 𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 ✨ |

✰💭 - 𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ✨ |

✰✏️ - 𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 ✨ |

✰🗒️ - 𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬/𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ✨ | 

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑨 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 | 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅

↬ 𝘮𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘶 | 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘴 | 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯| 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 | 𝘯𝘰𝘯-𝘤𝘰𝘯 | 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 | 𝘰𝘰𝘤 | 𝘰𝘤 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 | 18+ |  𝘣𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 | 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 - 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 ↺

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑩𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 | 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅

↬ 𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘢 | 𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 | 𝘮𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘶 | 𝘮𝘢𝘫𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 | 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘶𝘱 | 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 | 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 | 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘴 | 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘳 | 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 | 𝘰𝘤 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴| 𝘰𝘰𝘤 | 18+ | 𝘣𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 | 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 :)

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑬𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 | 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅 | 𝑨𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑶𝒘𝒏 | 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.𝒏𝒆𝒕

↬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘶 | 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘹 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧 | 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 | 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 | 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 | 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 | 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 | 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴| 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 18+ | 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 - 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 & 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ↺

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑼𝒏𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 | 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅

↬ 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 | 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 | 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘶 | 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 & 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 | 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 | 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 | 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯 | 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 𝘰𝘰𝘤 | 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 | 18+ | 𝘣𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 | 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 :(

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 | 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅 | 𝑨𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑶𝒘𝒏 | 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.𝒏𝒆𝒕

↬ 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘶 | 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭 𝘹 𝘧𝘢𝘯 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 | 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 | 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 | 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 | 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳 | 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 | 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 | 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 | 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 | 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 18+ | 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 :(

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔

↬ 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 | 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 | 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 | 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 | 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 | 𝘶𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ↺

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆 

↬ 2022 | 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 | 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 | 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 | 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 | 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 | 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑴𝒆, 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒆

↬ | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦 | 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 | 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘺/𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘺 | 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 | 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 | 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 | 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 18+ | 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 | ⚤ |

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔

↬ 2024 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 | 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 | 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 - 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 | 𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 | 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 | 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘺 | 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘺 | 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘺 | 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔 | 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 | 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 | 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 | 18+ | 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 | ⚤

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 & 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝑨𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔

↬ | 2022 | 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 - 𝘯𝘩𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴22 | 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 | 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 | 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 | 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 | 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 | 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 | 18+ | 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 ;)

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔

↬ | 2022 | 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 - 𝘯𝘩𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩22 | 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 | 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 | 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘺 | 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 | 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 | 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 | 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 | 18+ | 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 :(

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑭𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑵𝒐 𝑱𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒖 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍-𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

↬ 2023 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 - 𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘶 | 𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 | 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 | 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 | 

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑵𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝟐𝟑 - 𝑨 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 "𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑴𝒆, 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒆" 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

↬ 2023 | 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 - 𝒏𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝟐𝟑 | 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 | 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 | 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂 | 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒅𝒂𝒚 | 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 | 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 | 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 | 𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒔 | 𝟏𝟖+ | 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 :(

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝑶𝒇 𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏

↬ 2024 | 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 - 𝒏𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝟐𝟑 | 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉 | 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂 | 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄 | 𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄 | 𝒏𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕 | 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝒚𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂 𝒂𝒖 | 𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒂𝒖 | 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒚: 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝟰𝘁𝗵 & 𝟭𝟳𝘁𝗵 | 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒅 | 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏/𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 | 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 | 𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒆 | 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒂 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 | 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒔 | 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 | 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 | 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓  | 𝑱𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒆/𝑱𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 | 𝒅𝒖𝒃𝒄𝒐𝒏 | 𝟏𝟖+ | 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 :(

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑶𝒏𝒆-𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒅-𝑩𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 

↬ | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 | 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 | 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 | 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵-𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 | 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 | 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 | 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘷𝘢 |

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 & 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝑨𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒅-𝑩𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔

↬ | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 | 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 | 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 | 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 | 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵-𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 | 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 | 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 | 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘷𝘢 |

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒃 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒅-𝑩𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔

↬ | 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵-𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴 | 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 | 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘹 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 | 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣 | 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 | 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦 - 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 | 🤎

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒅-𝑩𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅

↬ | 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘤 | 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 | 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 | 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴!

|  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ |

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑬𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒅-𝑩𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅

↬ | 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦 | 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢| 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 | 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴! | >ᴗ< |

ꨄ.* :☆ﾟ𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 - 𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒃

↬ | 𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘩𝘢 | 𝘥𝘦𝘴 ü | 𝘯𝘩𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩22 | 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 - 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬/𝘮𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 | 𝘥𝘢𝘺 10 | 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 | 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣 | 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 | 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴! | ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕 |

[unnonexistence]

trying a new writing strategy: to-do list style outline

[tameodesza]

Masterlist: Dead Ends

synopsis: As an unknown virus spreads rapidly amongst society, Bret and Shawn are forced to depend on each other for survival. This is the story of how this unlikely pair attempts to navigate through the post-apocalyptic world while growing to love each other along the way.

pairing: Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

content: set in zombie apocalypse, slow burn, plot-heavy, dark themes, violence, angst, sexual content, supernatural elements

status: ongoing

word count: TBA

1. Mayhem: After stumbling upon a cabin in the woods, Bret's quest for food turns into him meeting a fiery blond instead

2. Doomsday: Bret attempts to learn about his new partner, but Shawn remains a mystery. However, Bret is an open book.

3. Calm Before the Storm: The men explore the camp, and Bret takes a trip down memory lane.

4. Rude Awakening: Bret and Shawn have a conflict over leaving the camp, but a herd just may force them out.

5. Crossroads: Bret and Shawn both have doubts as they try to move on from the camp.

6. Homecoming: Bret's shooting skills are put to the test, and Bret and Shawn finally reach their destination. But the welcome isn't so sweet.

7. Grief: Shawn attempts to comfort Bret as he mourns the loss of his parents.

8. Turmoil: Bret and Shawn venture into the city, but their humanity is tested when they come across a couple in need of their help.

9. Grim Reality: A wedge is driven between Bret and Shawn due to their opposing views, and Shawn has a dream that seems all too real.

10. Human Nature: Shawn’s dreams continue to haunt him, and he and Bret experience a night they ever expected.

11. Origins: Bret finally learns about Shawn’s tragic past.

12. Dream State: Some urges just cannot be tamed.

13. Stranger Danger: Bret and Shawn are forced to leave the safety of their shelter after running low on supplies. As they venture out, they run into a little girl in the woods.

14. Uncharted Territory: Bret and Shawn meet the new group, but tempers flare when Bret becomes a little too comfortable.

15. New Normal: As the two get settled in with the new group, Bret gets an uneasy feeling about Marty.

16. Frenemy: Bret attempts to gain more information about Marty.

17. Life or Death: Distance grows between Bret and Shawn, but everything changes after a near-fatal encounter.

18. Conflicted: Shawn can’t escape his guilty conscience, and doubts are sowed amongst the group following Shawn’s attack.

19. Blurred Lines: As Bret and Shawn grow closer, a conflict arises that could drive a wedge between the two for good.

20. Ousted: Shawn rooms with Marty, but the night ends in turmoil which forces the group to pick a side.

21. Safe Haven: Shawn opens up more about his past life, and Bret learns about a mysterious safe haven.

22. Rations: As the seasons change, the group is faced with a new dilemma.

23. Omen: The group celebrates Maddie’s birthday, unaware of the dark cloud headed their way.

24. Revenge: Marty is back with a vengeance and lives are forever changed.

25. On the Road Again: Bret and Shawn fight to escape in one piece and are forced to take on the responsibility of protecting Maddie.

26. Promises: Bret tries to help Maddie process her grief, and Shawn battles a guilty conscience.

27. Survival Lessons: The search for water turns into life lessons for Maddie.

28. The Little Things: Bret makes plans to escape reality, and Shawn reflects over his relationship with Maddie.

29. Human Error: Bret accidentally puts their lives at risk, and Maddie learns just how scary the post-apocalyptic world is.

30. Karma: Bret and Shawn’s shelter is threatened yet again, and their past decides their future.

[rollercoasterwords]

hey how long do you think is it going to be as the worm moon dies? also great chapter!

answered this before but! i will answer it again bc i have. come up w a new idea i want 2 incorporate xx

so disclaimer of course this is all totally up in the air + i am very much flying by the seat of my pants etc etc so all i can do is give a rough estimate! right now i think the fic is going to end up being 4 parts, somewhere between 20-25 chs, and probably between 100k-200k words :•) and thank u!!

[transingthoseformers]

SG Earthspark: Not sure if my the fic should be one AO3 work with each episode being one chapter, or 26+ multichapter works in a series, one work being one episode. I originally thought about having the main title be "Through The Shards Of A Broken Window" after a lyric from a Nico Collins song. But i've also recently thought about titling it "New Divide" after the Linkin Park song i saw a TFES edit of, because i thought the lyrics fit SG Earthspark's first season.

"In every loss in every lie / In every truth that you'd deny / And each regret and each goodbye / Was a mistake too great to hide / And your voice was all I heard / That I get what I deserve / .... / So give me reason / To fill this hole / Connect this space between / Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies / Across this new divide"

New Divide would be an interesting reference because iicr they used the song in the end of Revenge of The Fallen aaand it's a good song. I am biased. But, Through The Shards Of A Broken Window would be a good reference to it being SG and I can see the metaphors going on there

You can utilize both if you go the series approach, but that'd require you come up with a name for every episode which could be quite arduous

[saradika]

do you have any (or would you mind making) any cherry based dividers?

hi anon! I’m not making dividers on this account anymore, everything moved over in Nov 2023 to my graphics sideblog - @saradika-graphics.

I do have cherries there, the link is here! 🍒 and a lot more has been shared, so please check out my masterlist!