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#breakin out the spoiler tags
amethyst-halo · 8 months
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my excerpt thoughts
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giranswife · 4 years
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So I got tagged by both @lildreamysoul and @jagerdernacht to do this with my husband, and might I say... I’m excited XD Bit of warning for anyone, my husband doesn’t really have a filter, as most of you are aware, so you’ve been warned as far as like suggestive comments and shit goes lol
So I’m honest, that a big fuckin’ deal?
‘Course not. It’s why I love you, just gotta give a warning just to be safe. Now, let’s get started because this is gonna be-- a ride lol
Introduce yourselves. Who are you? What do you like to do?
Well, you guys already know me, Violet- Nothing really all that exciting there lol but I like to read, write, draw. It’s a new hobby that I started up a couple years ago and have been improving since! I also love playing video games and watching movies together is another big one I enjoy.
Don’t say that, baby girl. Couldn’t be further from the truth. But I’m Giran, her husband. Pretty sure that to answer the next question, I’d be breakin’ the first rule that she gave me-
God damn it, babe. Don’t listen to him, ignore him, please. 
I’m just teasing. I’ll be good, for now.
How was your first meeting like?
Oh, jeez. Well, first meetings weren’t really the best between us. Didn’t exactly get along with him, per say...
She wasn’t really my biggest fan. If yah ask how in the hell I got her to marry me, well-
Oh, whatever, baby. He might not have been my favorite person the first time we met, but he grew on me. Really grew on me.
How did you get together? Who confessed first?
It took a while with lots of denying on my end. I definitely didn’t confess first.
I don’t know if I remember it like that, Princess-
Oh, please. You know that I was pretty insistent about hiding the fact that I was into you.... romantically at least. As far as confessions go... believe it or not he was actually the one to at least vocalize that he wanted more out of the relationship.
Knew that yah needed a little push, and I was happier than I thought that I would be. What’s the fuckin’ point in hidin’ that? Besides, I couldn’t resist when you were looking as beautiful as ya were.
What are your thoughts on PDA?
Oh damn, well... considering my husband is the most shameless person I fucking know-
What can I say, baby girl. I just can’t keep my hands off yah.
I mean... I don’t mind... it’s just the more he does it the redder my face gets. And since he’s always pulling me into his lap and shit, I pretty much am always there. Not that I don’t like being in his arms though.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way-
How do you show your affection towards each other/what are your love languages?
We are both really different in that regard, but there’s also a few things that we’re similar to! For example, I’m more of the affectionate person but I also constantly talk about how much I love him and just like... I’m extremely open.
My princess is a lot better with words than I am. I like to spoil her and treat her. Anything to see her smile and let her know how much I love her. Don’t want her forgetting how special she is.
Who’s more introverted and who’s more extroverted?
Well... I tend to be more introverted, to be honest. Definitely lean more that way, but I wouldn’t say that we’re both like that. Honestly, I feel like he’s a bit in the middle? I don’t know! I’ve never thought about it-
You’re definitely right about that, Princess. I’m more extroverted than you are, but even then I wouldn’t exactly describe myself that way either.
Me neither. There’s some aspects of both, so honestly I’d say that both of us kinda don’t really fit either one exactly, but we definitely lean more one way than the other.
Who’s the big spoon and who’s the little spoon?
Oh, I’m the little spoon all the way.
She’s right. My adorable little spoon.
Oh my gooood, please stop-- (spoiler: he doesn’t)
What do you like doing together the most?
Or rather what don’t we like doing together- I’m sorry, that was bad. How in the hell did this get so corny? Are we corny now?
‘Course not. But you’ve always been. It’s alright, though, it’s why I love yah. 
Let’s just answer the god damn question before my face explodes. I’d probably have to say that really we like the most just being with each other just the two of us? Given that we don’t really get a whole lot of alone time, believe it or not, it’s really nice whenever we can just relax and be together. It’s what I prefer, anyway. Dinner and a movie. Going out every now and then is really nice.
Couldn’t have said it better. I’d much rather bein’ with my princess, but I like goin’ out with yah. This one can make anything interesting, lemme tell yah. 
Tell us a fun fact about the other!
Ooooh, fun facts! Well, for starters, Giran is actually a huge romantic. Might not look it, but I promise you the man is romantic and sweet and doting. Also, another fun fact, this man kinda knows how to play piano. Not much, but a little-
Wouldn’t say that I’m good, but she’s entertained by the idea ever since she found out.
Well, yeah-- I really wouldn’t expect you of all people to have any musical fucking talent.
Oh like you, Princess? When’s the next time ya gonna play for me? This one is the musical one. Her flute playing’s beautiful, and I know that she can also play the piccolo but-
Oh god, I haven’t played either in so long. Please, don’t mention it. I’m ashamed that it’s been this long since I’ve played. I miss it.
Tag other selfshippers and their f/os.
Oh for sure!
@self-shipping-angel and Levi!
@wispy-selfship-eden and Izuku!
@millizines and Earnest
@securitycopswife and Ushio
@star-platinums-wife and Star!
@nougatships and Tomura
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kbstories · 6 years
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Wrestled down chapter 2 of my Charthur fic
Quiet For So Long
Tags: Domestic Fluff, Nightmares, Cowboys Being Soft, Charles Is A Top And That’s The Tea
Again, very mild spoilers for chapter 3. Enjoy!
>>Read on AO3!
Charles wakes slowly, consciousness returning to him gradually, then all at once.
He blinks. The room is dark, only dim streaks of light making it past the curtains separating it from the rest of the world. For some time, that's all Charles's mind lingers on.
It must be noon, or late morning at least; Charles feels heavy under the covers, that unique weight that comes with too many hours spent asleep. It's been a while since he could rest beyond dawn, and in a real bed, no less.
There's an arm wrapped loosely around his waist. That, too, is a rarity in and of itself – an experience so far removed from memory, he can't tell if it truly happened or if he dreamed it up – but the muffled snoring coming from the body tucked against his is deeply familiar.
Charles closes his eyes and smiles. A lucky bastard indeed.
With Arthur in his arms, time is an abstract concept. At first, Charles barely dares to turn far enough to press a kiss to the crown of his head, Arthur's hair soft under his lips. He sleeps on, and Charles is glad he does.
Life on the road is tough, something easily forgotten while you're on it yet just as easily comes to haunt you when you're not. Especially when people are counting on you to keep things going – and it's no damn surprise Arthur is out like a light, given that that's his role in the gang more often than not.
Carefully, Charles shifts underneath him, giving Arthur the softer mass of his pec to rest against. The other mumbles and burrows his bearded cheek further against him with a sigh that's so content it makes Charles chuckle a little.
“You're like a cat”, he tells him quietly, voice rough with sleep, and doesn't mind when the only answer is another snore.
He dozes off, for a while, dimly aware of the give and take of Arthur's breathing and the subtle nubs of his spine against his palm as he runs his hand up and down his back. Thus he misses the moment those calm breaths turn more strained; idle fingers suddenly clench around his side and Charles awakes with a start, muttering comforting nonsense before he's even fully there.
Indistinct noises grow in volume: whimpers of no, no slip out of Arthur's mouth, small and desperate, and stop. Realization slams into Charles out of nowhere.
“Arthur”, he says, repeats it more urgently at the flash of pain that makes Arthur's slack features twist – then Arthur gasps, eyes snapping open in the same instant he starts to push out of Charles's hold.
Charles lets him go, hands raised and tone soothing, “Easy, 's just me”; in a confused haze, Arthur glances around the room – the hotel's opulence and simulated homeliness strikingly out-of-place with how stressed Arthur's gaze is – and finally at Charles, sinking back into his chest with a raw, “Ah, hell”.
After a beat or two Charles puts his arms back where they were, almost touching. “You okay?”
Arthur just nods against his neck, but it takes until his breathing is measured once again for him to speak. “Sorry 'bout that”, he drawls with something akin to shame in his voice, and Charles's heart softens with empathy.
“It's alright, I was already awake.”
A pause.
“This happen often?”
It occurs to him a moment later that he might be pushing too much, too soon, but he hears Arthur clear his throat before he answers, “Every now an' again”, and the fact that he admits to it tells Charles more than enough. Pulling him in, he kisses the tense line between his eyebrows and, eventually, it eases, too.
Arthur hums, tilts his head up to direct him towards his lips instead, sighs into the gentle brush of lips they share.
“Wakin' up ain't usually this nice, though.”
Charles smiles, “Yeah?”, tracing the twin scar on Arthur's chin with his mouth that's always had him curious.
“Mhm”, Arthur hums and, with one last peck, rolls to his own side of the bed, yawning against the back of his hand. “How late's it anyways?”
The opportunity to ask is gone but Charles shrugs. There's always time later.
“Past noon, I reckon. Breakfast?”
Arm draped across his eyes in a somewhat dramatic fashion, Arthur perks up immediately. “Been cravin' somethin' other than Pearson's stew for ages, it seems like.”
“You and me both.”
*
They don't get very far, in the end. Charles is told to wait – time he spends in a half-assed attempt to put on a shirt and get his hair in a loose braid – while Arthur slips in and out of their room in the blink of an eye, carrying two plates of something warm and steaming when he returns. Charles takes one look at the smug glint in his eyes and shakes his head, fondly.
“We're both leaving this place through the window, aren't we?”
“Yup. Watch it, it's still hot.”
Always a fast eater, Charles finishes what looks like potato soup quickly, leaning comfortably against the headrest of the still-unmade bed; the food is fresh, well-made, and he relishes the bits of carrots and other vegetables he can taste. Idly, he muses out loud: “Ever wonder what you would've done in life if not for, y'know...”
“Bein' an outlaw?”
“Yeah, that. Among other things.” Chasing the last spoonful, he sets his empty plate aside, careful not to touch Arthur's journal on the nightstand. “I think I'd've made a good cook.”
Arthur considers him with a tilt to his head, nodding after a while. “I guess? Waste of a damn good shot, though... How 'bout huntin'? For a living, I mean. Certainly'd be more of an entertainin' life than wastin' away in some saloon.”
Charles hums at that. “Maybe, yeah. And you?”
“Me? Haven't really thought 'bout it much. Dunno at which point my life wouldn't've lead to this, one way or 'nother.”
The expression on Arthur's face is pensive as he chews, nothing more. Charles nudges his thigh with his naked foot, gesturing at him with a nod. “Humor me, then.”
“Uh.” Arthur blinks at him, surprised, perhaps, that he's insisting. “Maybe somethin' with horses? Always liked workin' with 'em, breakin' them in. Saw people make a good penny selling 'em, too.”
The mental image of Arthur on his own ranch, training a young horse feels right, somehow.
“Yeah, I can see that. You got a good hand with 'em. Hell, even Taima's sweet on you, and she's picky.”
Arthur's smile is small, humble, the true extent of it to be found in his eyes. He says, “Glad ya think so”, in that sheepish way of his, like he's genuinely astonished someone would think that of him. And really, the things this man does to Charles – with his clever charm, and that glimpse of shyness hidden beneath layers and layers of smooth talking and acting rough-and-tough...
A side of him that, if Charles has guessed right, nobody else gets to see but him.
It's intoxicating, that. Makes him want to drag him back into bed and kiss the living daylights out of him; and when Arthur makes to stack his plate on top of Charles's, he doesn't hesitate to do exactly that, grinning wildly at Arthur's yelped “Charles, what–!“ that turns into laughter half-way through.
“Gotcha”, Charles announces smugly against Arthur's shoulder, and with Charles's arms locked around his waist, Arthur resigns to his fate with an exasperated shake of his head.
“You are aware we gotta leave this bed at some point, right?”
Yet it's him who leans in for a kiss, nipping at Charles's bottom lip and smirking when Charles rumbles a groan into the next one, hungry for more. It seems to be enough of an answer for Arthur; with a hand sliding into Charles's hair, he tilts his head for a better angle and Charles lets him, feeling his braid come loose. A shiver runs up his back at the needy sound Arthur breathes against his mouth.
“Charles–“
There it is again, that uncertainty that is so at odds with the sheer need in Arthur's touches, the longing in his gaze; Charles's hold on him softens, he brushes their noses together, “I want you, Arthur”, he says, voice firm and untouched by doubt. “Let me have you?”
Arthur's chest moves against Charles's with each panting breath he takes. He cups Charles's jaw, searching his expression for something before he licks his lips, nods, confesses, “I... ain't, uh, done anythin' before. With a guy.”
Charles expected as much, but he just hums and kisses him, gently.
“'s okay. I don't mind taking it slow.”
But Arthur huffs, brows drawing into a frown that once might've been intimidating but now isn't, not anymore.
“No, that's not– I'm tryin' to ask for somethin', here.”
And Charles mutters a relieved “Oh, thank God”, pulls him closer with hands that are no longer idle but wandering lower, and his mouth swallows the noise of approval Arthur makes.
*
The truth is: Charles doesn't have much experience with any of this, either.
Maybe on paper, if he'd remember enough names and dates and locations to compile a list. With how society sees these things, however, anonymity equals survival, and none of the sloppy blowjobs and rushed quickies in the shadows of dirty alleyways and dingy saloons could compare to having Arthur fucking Morgan moan his name as Charles takes him for the first time.
All he finds himself capable of doing is gathering the man in his arms, hand splayed across his lower back as he sinks into the warmth of his body and holds there, struggling for breath against his temple. “Just me”, he mutters mindlessly, brushing Arthur's hair out of his flushed face, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his ear. “Relax. 's just me.”
Arthur's clinging for dear life to his back, his nails having dug into the meat of Charles's shoulders slowly releasing, stroking down his sides in silent apology. Charles feels more than hears the breathless “fuck” he pants out, lids clenched shut.
“Okay?”
It takes a second or two for Arthur's eyes to open; Charles smiles when they do, falling all over again for how very blue they are, for the kind soul shining through them as Arthur mumbles for him to keep going in a low rasp.
Charles does, slowly, watches Arthur's face twitch with each thrust, his attempts to stifle the sounds tumbling out of his mouth, so receptive to his every move. Charles's own voice is hoarse – “Don't”, he asks, begs, strained as he tries to make himself last.
“Wanna hear you.”
It's hard to hold back when Arthur drops all pretenses, pulling Charles into a bruising kiss that affords more concentration than any of them are currently able to give – “Charles”, Arthur moans, and “harder”, head falling back into the pillow.
Charles growls, feels the muscles of Arthur's bared throat work under his lips, his mind drowning in Arthur Arthur Arthur as he runs his hand down his hairy chest and over the rapid beat of Arthur's heart, pounding against his palm.
The heart he has tied his own to, that day on the plains when it almost stopped forever.
Covering Arthur's body with his own, Charles's long hair slides down his shoulders, a shield keeping everything else out as he captures Arthur's mouth and comes, pushing in deep. Arthur whines, shakes apart, fingers reaching for his trembling hips and leaving burning lines across his skin.
“Look at me, Arthur, please–”
Arthur already is, with sweat trickling down his temples and his hair wild, and the look in his eyes is soft and open in a way Charles has never seen before; they kiss, unhurried, intimate, filled with words too precious to say out loud.
A kiss like a promise, gradually taking shape.
>>Read on AO3!
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amethyst-halo · 2 years
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yea ok im breakin out the spoilers tags again
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