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#and i'm still bitter about it like if you don't grow the hell up and learn something about CINEMA
serawritesthings · 3 months
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hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.
OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND
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Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡
While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.
Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 
The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 
You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 
“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 
“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.
“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 
Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.
“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 
“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.
As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.
“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.
“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.
You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.
“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.
You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 
Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.
“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 
Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 
He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 
You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 
“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 
“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 
Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 
“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 
He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn��t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.
He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.
“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.
“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.
“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”
As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 
Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.
Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.
Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.
What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.
“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.
“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.
“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”
“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”
He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.
“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 
“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 
“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 
“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.
Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 
“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 
It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.
You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.
“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.
“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.
“Cold?” 
“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.
“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 
Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.
“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”
Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.
“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.
“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”
“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”
He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 
“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 
It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”
“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.
Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.
It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.
“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 
“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.
“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.
“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”
“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 
Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.
You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.
His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.
“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.
“Yes, kind.”
Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.
“Sure.”
It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 
It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.
Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.
Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 
If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.
And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 
Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.
He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.
It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.
Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.
“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”
“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.
“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.
Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.
Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 
Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.
“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.
You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 
As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.
How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.
How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 
“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.
“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 
You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 
“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.
“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”
“No, I-” 
“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”
His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 
“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”
You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.
“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.
“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 
You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.
Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 
He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 
So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.
“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.
He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.
“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 
“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”
A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”
As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.
“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 
Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 
Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.
“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 
Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.
And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.
“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.
Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.
“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.
And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.
It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 
“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 
“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.
It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.
You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 
It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.
“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 
You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.
You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 
“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.
“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.
You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 
Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.
Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 
He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.
And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 
But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 
His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.
It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.
The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 
“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 
Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.
“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 
You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.
He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.
A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 
For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.
And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.
“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.
“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.
Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.
“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 
He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 
While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 
You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.
Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 
You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 
God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.
“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.
“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 
Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.
He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.
Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 
Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.
“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.
He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.
Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 
Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.
Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.
“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.
“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”
“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.
They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.
“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.
“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.
“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.
“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.
“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 
The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.
You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.
Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 
Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 
“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.
The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.
As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.
“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.
“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 
“Are you jealous of Charles?” 
If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.
If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 
“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 
“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 
Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 
“Only me, right?”
“Only you, stupid.”
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oh-katsuki · 4 months
Text
your cup of espresso sits untouched and cooling on the dinner table. you have it after dinner every night, one sugar cube evenly dissolved through the mixture, giving it an almost syrupy flavor that is lovely to sip. it's bitter, but the right kind of bitter, and somehow so impossibly sweet. a perfect finish to the day.
the black screen of your phone sits unobtrusively beside your wrist. you pick it up idly, illuminating it with a quick tap of your finger. a few new notifications, instagram, snapchat, texts, twitter notifications you don't care about. nothing really all too pressing.
you tap to open up your contacts, scrolling and coming to a stop at his name. gojo satoru with a little red heart beside it.
at first, you only tap on it to look. it's not really like you had any plan to text or ring him. you just wanted to look at his contact card, maybe stare for a few minutes at the smiling, half ugly photo of him set as his contact picture. you're in the background of it, grabbing his upper arm to get his attention. it's a photo from a work meetup and nanami took it. somehow, it's come to mean a lot more to you than just a contact photo. you sigh, contemplating the phone call and then, without much fanfare, you click the button.
it rings in your ear as you put it up to the side of your head. your heart pounds in your chest, waiting for the ringing to come to a stop, maybe to hear his voice. it's been a long while since he's answered your calls though and you let out a humorless laugh as his voicemail plays.
"hey, you've reached gojo satoru. sorry i missed your call, i'm just soooo busy—" someone interrupts him, "hey can't you see im recording my voicemail message?" there's a small noise and then he's back, closer now. "—anyway, leave a message at the beep and maybe i'll call you back."
he'd set it in high school and his voice is a familiar and delightful higher pitch. you'd always told him that he needed to change it to something more mature, but he'd always blink at you and give you the same answer.
"who the hell would be calling me?" he'd say. "think i'm applying for another job or something?"
and you could never really argue with it. sure, you could've told him that it was immature, but at the end of the day he was right. it's not like he'd ever planned to change professions and professional conduct meant fuck-all when he was the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.
"hey," you start, clearing your throat, "it's me again. i don't know why i thought you'd actually answer my call this time, just sort of felt like you would. it was nice to hear your voice though, even if it was your voicemail message."
you run your finger along the grain in the wood of your table, tracing its intricate pattern with a light touch.
"i made that strawberry shortcake thing today." you're not really sure why you're telling him that. "you know, the one with the cream instead of frosting. it was good, kinda hard to make the actual cake though. the house smells good now. but yeah, i had a day off for once so i just sort of... hung around." you can feel your bottom lip growing raw with the way you chew on it between sentences. there's not really a reason that you called him. nothing particularly interesting has happened to you, let alone anything he'd care about, but you just felt like talking. still do, even if it's to his voicemail box, and you continue speaking into it about your day.
you like to think he couldn't be bothered to answer the phone. lazy, in some way, to answer your needy call. you like to think that maybe he'd seen the call, his phone ringing on the counter, from where he was in the shower. he'll listen to your voicemail and call you when he's out and dry to ask about trying the cake, maybe.
"would have been nice to see you. it's been like... two months since we've met up. i know you're probably busy though. doing whatever it is you do on the weekend, not that i really know anymore."
the kitchen light suddenly seems too bright, casting its artificial yellow glow down on the center of your table. you reach up to rub your temples. there's a dull throb beginning behind your eyes and in the bridge of your nose. it's almost like you're about to cry and as you sniffle quietly into the receiver, you can feel the swell of emotions as it rises in you.
"i really miss you, satoru," you say with a defeated sigh. "i know i probably sound like a broken record and that your phone storage must really be taking a hit, but i do. you probably get a kick out of knowing that though," the laugh that comes from you is muddled as your nose begins to run, and you reach quickly to wipe it. "wish you'd call me back. or come home, maybe. it's funny, i keep thinking that you'll come in the door any minute and the feeling never really... stops."
you clear your throat again, putting your tongue in your cheek and steeling your nerves a little.
"well, i'll let you go now," you swallow, laughing a little like the statement is silly. he's not really on the phone. it doesn't matter all that much how long the voicemail is. "stop before the voicemail lady cuts me off. but yeah, i just wanted to call. i keep hoping that you'll pick up. who knows, right?"
there's a short pause and then you inhale, straightening your back.
"i love you," you say. "always have. i'll call you tomorrow too, so... yeah. i love you, satoru. bye."
you pull your phone away from the side of your face, clicking the end call button a little too quickly before putting it face down on the table. it's comforting to call him, but it hurts too. there's always the hope that he'll answer. that by some miraculous turn of events, the ringing will stop short and he'll draw out a hello in a pleasant tenor hum. of course, he'd know exactly who's calling. satoru always did.
maybe you'll pay him a visit tomorrow, say all of this directly to him, though you haven't had the courage yet to visit that little stone plaque. it's a little too hard, for now. it's easier to think that he's ignoring your calls than incapable of answering them all together.
someday, his voicemail will fill up and you'll have to confront the truth. it will fill up, you'll be greeted by the voice mailbox full message, and there will be no one on the other end to clear it.
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kelcemenow · 6 months
Text
As The Snow Falls - Chapter 7.
Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader
Words 1661
Warnings Strong language and a whole lot of fluff.
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CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
With Travis stood behind you and his arms wrapped around your waist, he gently placed a kiss on the side of your neck. You giggled and reached for the door handle. Travis was ready and dressed for skiing but you still needed to go to your room to change your clothes and Travis was only too pleased to accompany you there.
Turning the door handle you placed your finger against your lips. "Shhh!" You warned him as you knew the rest of the group would still be asleep.
Travis grinned and held you tight before you both headed towards your bedroom door. Your feet became tangled with his as you tried to walk in tandem and as you stifled a loud laugh by clamping your hand over your mouth, someone appeared briskly from around the corner.
"Jasmine!" You exclaimed, a little louder than anticipated.
Travis quickly stepped away from you and you noticed Jasmine's eyes narrow profusely. You cleared your throat and awkwardly smoothed out your pyjamas.
"What's this?" Jasmine said with an uncomfortable breathy laugh.
Travis scratched the back of his neck, "Uhhhh...we were just joking around."
"Joking around? Looks like some pretty serious flirting going on?" Jasmine folded her arms, "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"
You glanced to Travis quickly, "Jas-"
"Whatever, I don't care. I need coffee." She fluttered her eyelashes, "Travis, would you make some for me? Your coffee is so good!"
Travis exhaled and shrugged his shoulders, "Sure."
You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, I gotta go...and...get dressed."
Lowering your head, you marched straight to your room, your heart rising in your chest. As soon as you reached the door, you swung it open and rushed inside of the room, leaning your head against the cold wood once it was closed.
"Fuck." You whispered to yourself with a smile.
______________________________________________________________
The crisp snow crunched loudly underneath your boots as you retrieved your skis and poles from the shelter just outside of the cabin. You breathed in the cold breeze, feeling the sting of the bitter air as it filled your nostrils. As you clipped your boots into the skis, you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump slightly as you turned your head quickly.
"Shit, sorry!" Jason's face beamed back at you.
You clutched your chest and breathed a sigh of relief, "You scared the hell out of me, man!" You laughed.
"So? You and Travis, huh?"
You lowered your eyebrows, "What about me and Travis?"
Jason laughed, "Oh, come on! You think I'm blind?"
You turned back to reach for your poles, mostly to hide the growing smile on your face that you were failing to hide.
"I can see something a'brewing there, man!" Jason raised his eyebrows at you. "Come on, spill! And be mindful, the guy is still my brother. I don't want all of the disgusting details!"
You shifted yourself closer to him, lowering your voice, "Honestly, Jason...I don't know what's going on, but I can't stop smiling!"
An arm quickly swung around your shoulder as the 6 foot 3 inch Center pulled you in closer, "Me neither! My favourite girl and my little brother...getting it on."
You let out a throaty laugh, "Don't dude...Jasmine seems to think she's got dibs on him and she's already sniffing around us like a bloodhound. And I don't really want to deal with another Jasmine tantrum right now."
"Oh, hell nah!" Jason stepped in front of you, "We only have one day left here and I'll be dammed if I let something ruin the vibe."
You grinned and nodded your head, just as Travis appeared from behind Jason's shoulder.
"Ready to go?" His voice deep and thick with excitement.
Jason's eyebrows jumped up quickly before he turned to face his brother, "Enjoy, man." He said, slapping his palm against the side of Travis' bicep and disappearing back into the cabin.
Travis threw you a wink, your heart leaping at the sight. As he made his way closer to you, your chest tightened, the cool air filling your lungs. You shuffled your feet awkwardly, looking down at the skis that were restricting your movements until Travis was suddenly inches away from you. He raised his arm and reached behind you, his intoxicating scent almost hypnotising you. You took a deep breath, rooted to the spot and watched as the muscles in his neck pulsated as he grabbed his own skis. He glanced down at you and smiled a little.
"What?" You breathed a laugh as you spoke.
Travis' smile widened, "Nothing." He pressed his lips together, as if he had more to say.
"Go on?" You nodded.
He looked away, avoiding your gaze for a second, "You just look...beautiful."
Your cheeks quickly flushed and you looked down to your feet, the snow laying flat from where you had been standing. Your immediate reaction was the brush his compliment off, but you remembered what he had said earlier. He wasn't going to stop so you needed to get used to it. You raised your head to meet his gaze again, his icy stare somehow spreading a warmth across your chest. "Come on, I'll race you to the ski lift."
You darted away, sliding smoothly across the fresh snow, your eyes beginning to water from the cool air whipping past you. You confidently guided yourself towards the lift entrance, pulling your ski goggles down to shield your eyes from the bright morning sunshine. You glanced back quickly, noticing that Travis had barely made it away from the lodge. Bending your knees slightly, you increased your speed before angling the back of your skis quickly to the right, powder spraying onto the lift gates as you stopped dead. Pulling your goggles back onto the top of your head, you watched as Travis slowly but steadily made his way down the small hill towards you, his hands gripping onto the poles.
Your eyes widened as you noticed that he wasn't slowing down. You held an arm up and waved it from side to side in an attempt to get Travis' attention.
"Put your toes together, make a point with the front! Toes together, Travis!" You yelled out, your voice thick with panic.
Travis obeyed, a small mound of snow piling up in front of him, eventually bringing him to a halt next to you. You smiled as he pulled off one of his gloves and wiped his brow, taking a long breath before meeting your gaze.
"What? Okay, so it's been a while since I've skied." He said, shrugging his shoulders and putting his glove back on.
"I didn't say anything." You giggled as you pushed the gates to the ski lift open, "Not a thing."
Travis followed closely behind you, "You didn't have to. Your face said it all."
You exhaled another laugh, your warm breath visible in the cold air, "Come on, stop your pouting and get in." You patted the seat next to you.
"How come you're so good at this anyway?" Travis said as he struggled to manoeuvre himself around the cart.
"I worked a couple of seasons in France."
Travis raised his eyebrows, "Fuck! I didn't know I was with some sort of expert. I thought I was gonna impress you." The cart jerked as he quickly collapsed down next to you.
"Impress me?" You nudged him playfully, pulling the bar down across the pair of you just as the cart lifted slowly into the air.
Travis' eye's darted across his surroundings, "Well, yeah. I didn't think my sub-par skiing skills would be so rusty."
"I could show you some basics? Maybe, refresh your memory?"
"I like the sound of that." His arm slowly draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, "Although, would it be totally unprofessional for me to make out with the teacher?"
You held his deep gaze, the world around you seeming to fade away, "Maybe you should try it and find out."
Travis' pale eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth moved into a large grin before he lowered his head down towards yours, closing the already short distance between you. His soft lips connected with yours and moved slowly with a gentle pressure. Your skin tingled with a sudden pleasure that spread across your whole body as the kiss progressed. Travis brought his hand up to tenderly cup your cheek before sliding it to the back of your neck, his fingers softly stroking your hair. You carefully shifted closer to him, aware that any small movements would swing the cart, but Travis held onto you tightly. Your tongue danced against his and the warm, wet sensation caused your chest to flutter. As your lips parted further, you gasped for a quick breath before allowing Travis to explore your mouth again. The kiss was slow, romantic even, and as the cart swayed gently in the breeze, you melted completely into his arms.
You opened your eyes only slightly and a small ray of bright sunlight blinded your gaze. You pulled away from the kiss, looking to see that Travis' face was still plastered with a smile.
"I'm crazy about you." He whispered.
"Good." You quietly replied, "Because you've got detention with me later."
Travis' head jerked back, his eyebrows lowered with confusion, "What? Why?"
"That kiss." You smirked, "It was very unprofessional."
Travis grabbed your waist and dug his fingers into your flesh, causing you to let out a loud roar of laughter. The cart swung dramatically from your erratic movements and Travis quickly held onto you again, protecting you as you both screamed out with more amusement.
You took a deep breath and rested your head on Travis' shoulder, looking out onto the morning sunrise. The warm red and purple colours surrounded you both, your breathing slowing down to a contented pace. You sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Travis cleared his throat.
"Come to Kansas City tomorrow."
______________________________________________________________
This took some time...and I'm really sorry! I've had a crazy couple of weeks and writing took a bit of a backseat. But I hope you liked this chapter, the comments I have been receiving for this series have been amazing! I'll get to working on the next chapter right away and if you have sent in a request, do not worry, I will be making my way through this requests once this series is finished! If you want to be included in my Taglist, just let me know!
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helluvabossrewrite45 · 2 months
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Hazbin Hotel Rewrite; Opening up at the Bar
From what I seen from hh with how it handles sa topics, it's very...questionable. Now the show hasn't still come out yet so I won't go into detail about it, but with how they use the song 'poison' and behind the scenes of it (viv making a sex joke as marketing the song and the lead storyboard shipping val x angel despite what it's meant to portray in canon) makes it understandable for people to critque the show's portrayal of it. So for here, I want to approach Angel's truama as respectfully as I can with Angel opening up to Husk as it seems to be the same episode where both of them improve their relationship. I hope I'm able to address sa well because I know it's a very delicate topic that shouldn't be written lightly (especially for truama responses like hypersexuality) so if you have any problems with how I written it and how I should change it, please let me know. I will rewrite it until I portray this topic properly and credit you for your critque/help (unless you don't want to)
Content Warning; SA and mention of drug/alcohol addiction
A bar full of bottles and boozes sitting there in windless silence, aching for their next customer. Its emptiness is numbing, the stranded desert of this hotel. Husk, tapping his fingers in rhythm, halts it as though the ticking of a clock stops and sighs in relief, grateful that his work is now done. He takes a bottle of booze, fulfilling its fate as he opens the lid to drain it all down, until he hears the door creaking. 
He groans “Oh it’s you,” as Angel Dust drags himself towards the bar, collapsing his face to the poseur table. “What do you want now? Bar’s gonna close soon. So hurry up.” 
Angel’s face tilts up. “A drink, please.” His voice is soft yet hoarse.
Husk rolls his eyes, wishing for that sweet graveness to enter this bar once again. He goes through his bottles. “Which one?” He asks with a hostile glare.
“Any.”
Angel Dust slowly lifts himself up from the table, staring in discomfort at Husk grabbing a random bottle from his shelf, a sense of dread lingers onto him. 
“Husk…” His voice grows quiet.
“What?”
“I’m…sorry.” His eyes not meeting Husk’s gaze. 
“For what?” He responds snappily, placing one hand to his hip.
“For earlier…” Angel answers, his eyes still refusing to see Husks. “For saying and doing all those weird things to you, I'm sorry.”
His grouchy face still remains. “Whatever,” firmly placing the bottle to the table and swishing it towards Angel. “Don’t do that again.”
“Yeah,” his body tenses, “I hope so…”
Husk brows raised. “Hope so? What do you mean?”
The question hangs on as Angel Dust fiddles their hands, looking down at the wooden dry floor. The room has been fogged in silence as Husk finds himself repeatedly tapping his fingers, wondering when the clock will finally end its grating tick. 
“Well…” His voice quivers, tracing his eyes back to Husks. “I don’t know…”
Husk’s face turned puzzled. “The hell you mean you don't know?!” 
“I-” Angel pauses himself for a moment, “I don't know. I just don’t know.” His face bangs on the table as his arms come to cover.
“Ah well, might just be a you problem then.” He cackles at his own joke, with hollow applause. 
Angel huffs, “That’s what you all think.” His voice became more irritated. 
Husk’s laughter abrupt into cold stillness, his voice freezes with the rest of his body. 
Angel continues, “All of you think i’m just some dirty sex pest, huh? A running sex joke?” Anger starts to rise through his voice, “Even Charlie thinks what I do is just who I am- like I chose this!” He cuts himself off, facing down to the lifeless floor again. “Like I chose this…”
Husk words vanished, his voice having trouble coming out of his mouth. All he could do is stand there, watching Angel Dust ponder through his thoughts. 
“You know I don’t actually like being sexual twenty-four seven? Crazy right?” He formed a smile, though not by sweetness, but by bitterness. “I don’t actually like making endless sex jokes or dirty talk, I don’t actually like to constantly fantasise or masturbate or sleep around with a bunch of nobodies,” bitterness starts to spread through his voice, “and I especially don’t like working in that place!” He holds his breath, exhaling to serene air. “But I do it anyway, no matter how hard I try.” His finger scratched the table harshly with a melancholic frown. “I don’t know what is wrong with me, I didn’t used to be like this, it was only after-” Angel cuts himself off as his body starts trembling. He places a heart on his hand, feeling the rapid sounds of his heartbeat. “After…” He slows himself, unable to muster anything else to speak of. 
His eyes lift to Husk, seeing the statue that he became, his widened pupils not even taking one blink. Angel’s face rose with worry, “Oh uh…sorry.” He murmurs. “Sorry, I’ll just take the booze or-”
“Go on.” Husk's voice comes back again.
“W-what?” He quivers, taken aback by what he heard.
“Go on…” Husk's voice trails off, still a statue of himself.
Angel Dust pursed his lips, facing down once more. “There was a time back then, when I sneaked into a bar for some alcohol, the thing that helped me most when I was alive. There was a really fancy bottle, porcelain white shimmering with bubbles, I couldn’t help myself. I had to have it. Then he caught me, I thought he would kill me. Instead, he made a deal; that if I work in his business, I won’t need to steal anything or even need a place to stay…” He breaks off, his fingers scraping themselves to a shell. “So I worked as one of his sex workers; a stripper for his bars, an actor for his films, anything to do with sex, really. It wasn’t what I was always interested in, but it felt…better? Being more open and honest about myself that I never got to do on earth. That is, until I came back to his home…He told me he wanted to show me something, my ‘reward’...” He holds back on his words, wrapping his arms around in a warm embrace. “After that, I…I don't know, I guess that’s where I started becoming more sexual. It’s like a switch where my mind now constantly thinks about sex, even if it’s not what I want. It’s my poison.” He holds onto his words again, reflecting his thoughts. “Maybe it’s a way of control, to take back what he did to me, not letting him hurt me…but is it any good if you can’t control it yourself?” He finds himself eyeing at the bottle of toxicated liquid. “That’s why I came here, I couldn’t find any drugs. So alcohol will just have to do.”
Husk exhales a quiet breath, with Angel’s words stalling through his mind. He saw Angel reaching for the bottle. “Wait!” He alerts, taking the bottle before Angel could have the chance. Angel looks at him, confound. “Why?” Husk fell silent, wavering on his memory like a lightning struck in a bottle. He places the bottle back to its fateless place and starts rummaging through the tea bags until one reads ‘Black Caravan Tea’. He places the tea bag in a muggy cup and clicks the kettle to brew. Minutes go by as the kettle finally makes its thump, breaking Husks trance as he pours the steamy water onto the cup and gently pushes it over to Angel. “Here” He says softly. “Careful, it’s hot.” Angel slowly directs his eyes to the hot tea, then back to Husk, his mouth making a quiet gasp. “I know it’s not much,” He adds. “But for you, I hope it can be enough.”
Angel dust calmly blows the steam off his tea and takes a sip, warm smoky sweetness filling his mouth in peaceful bliss. He continues sipping it at a slow pace, enjoying each moment with him and his magical tea, transforming his mind to ocean waves, hearing its soothing whooshes and the pleasant echoes of bird’s chirping. After taking one last sip, he notices Husk with his own muggy cup, cooling off the steam before slurping down the whole tea to an empty cup. His grouchy face disappeared, replacing it with a genial smile; friendly and relaxed. Like warming his face with radiant golden sunlight. 
“What’s this?” Angel asks as soon as Husk tastes his last drop.
“Black Caravan.” Husk replies, licking his lips. “My Babushka always makes this tea, saying ‘If you get upset, don’t waste your mouth with vodka, relish it with Caravan.’” He glimpses away from Angel dust, shining a little star in his eyes before glaring at the shelves of bottles and boozes. “Heh, no wonder I hadn’t remembered…” 
Angel snickers. “My Nonno says something similar. He said; ‘You don’t stuff your mouth with alcohol, you stuff it with Frittelie!’” They both chuckle with each other, reminiscing of their old lives before the room went to silence. Both eyes looking away from each other as Angel proceeds to fiddle with his hands and Husk tapping his table, now only slow and with no rhythm. A clock’s final strikes till midnight. “You know,” He spoke solemnly. “After you're done with work and all, instead of finding drugs, you can come straight here to talk or have some tea. Either one or both to get off some steam.” 
Angel glances back to Husk’s sentimental gaze, his eyes lit up. “You’ll…You’ll do that?”
“Yeah.” He responds, keeping his gaze to Angel Dusts. “I’d do. For you…”
Their eyes locked in their gazes, their beating hearts twined to one another. Angel’s eyes turn away from the burning faint shades of pink of his face, looking steadily at the cup. “Yeah,” a small line shaped to a tender smile, “I’d like that.”
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baronfulmen · 7 days
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It's only March and I am already losing patience with the "if you vote for Biden you're a bad person" bullshit
I am going to explain this one more time (lie, I will explain it like a hundred more times but probably more pissy each time)
The way the electoral college works, there is NO viable way for a third party candidate to win.
You could REPLACE one of the existing parties in theory, but more likely you would just change the party until you like it more.
This is done starting at the local level, which is also where third party candidates can actually win. Despite this most people totally ignore everything but the presidential election and then bitch about it.
You could fix our elections by working to eliminate gerrymandering and voter suppression and by fighting for ranked choice voting, but again that's not a thing that's going to happen all at once (or ever in an election year).
Biden is awful, duh. All US presidents have been awful. They have all committed war crimes and if hell were real there would be a special section just for US presidents. Yes even whichever one you think was okay, Carter or whoever.
Biden's administration has done a TON of good shit, alongside the bad. No I'm not saying the bad stuff was worth it, I'm just saying it is not all bad stuff which is important because Trump really is basically all bad shit. All of it. He's all the bad shit that comes with Biden AND so so so much more.
Not voting doesn't send a message, because voter turnout is already abysmal and so your protest non-vote is lost in a sea of apathetic non-votes and Republican generated lack of votes due to voter suppression.
Not voting doesn't somehow make you a more virtuous person, nor does voting for Biden make you a bad person even though he's a bad person. You have two options, Biden or Trump. That's it. Not voting is still making a choice, and that choice will STILL RESULT IN EITHER TRUMP OR BIDEN so you might as well be a fucking adult about it and acknowledge that one is less bad than the other.
There are some states that are so OVERWHELMINGLY certain to go to a particular candidate that it's harmless to vote third party, but I have frequently seen people on this site say that applies to them and then mention where they live and it's ABSOLUTELY not one of those places so I don't know what some of you are smoking. Florida, for christ's sake.
I get that a lot of you want to start the bloody revolution or whatever, but please understand that even if you're serious and actually plan on doing that there's no reason you can't ALSO vote.
This isn't that complicated. Grow up and vote for Biden, and be angry and bitter about it the whole time. Work towards change in ways that actually matter and have a chance of making a difference, instead of sitting back and smugly acting like doing nothing makes you a better person you fucking cowardly assholes.
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yoongiphoria · 1 year
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not mine alone | kth
pairing: idol au!taehyung x staff!reader warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), edging, jealousy, fuckbuddies but ~ someone ~ has feelings, possessiveness. word count: 0.9k note: hello my dear readers 🫶🏼 take this as a (not really) parting gift from me—i'm starting classes again, which means i will not be writing/updating as often until dec. there will still be the occasional new fic in the coming months (perhaps 1-2 a month?), but my established frequency of posting is unsustainable while i am in hell grad school. i do hope you stick around, but understand if you don’t! love y’all ~ and fear not, i will still be unleashing chaos on this site whenever i get a chance. [also, i hope to come back to this tae w/ a part 2 soon!]
part two here
— 
“I—don’t—like—how Jin—flirted with you."
You gasp as Taehyung fills you with one smooth, fluid motion, entering you swiftly. There's almost no resistance, because he's been teasing you for almost half an hour, his fingers dancing at your entrance and toying with your clit. Working you toward your peak, agonizingly slowly, and then dropping you from the near-highest point. You're so wet you could fill buckets, so wet that Taehyung feels strings of arousal dripping down your inner thighs.
"Too bad," you choke out, your words stretching into a moan as he begins thrusting into you. Hard, fast, urgent. "We're not together, Taehyung."
Taehyung feels his heartbeat thump in protest at your words, a familiar unease swelling in his chest. The same feeling that overwhelmed him when he spotted you earlier in the lounge with his Seokjin hyung, laughing shyly at his jokes and playfully smacking his shoulder.
Stupid Seokjin hyung, and his stupid broad shoulders, and his stupid old ahjusshi jokes that made you laugh until you cried. 
Who's laughing now? he thinks smugly, thrusting into you so hard that the dresser smacks not once, not twice, but over and over again against the wall, a soothing rhythm that finally settles Taehyung's frayed nerves and stops his pulse from pounding in his head. 
You cry out, loud, pressing your head into your forearms. “Yeah, fuck, give it to me—ah, Taehyung—“
"You're mine," he grunts, his hands sliding from your waist to your tits, tweaking and pinching the stiff buds there until your knees grow weak. "We may not be—fuck—together, but you're fucking mine. Not Seokjin hyung's, not anyone's but mine."
You're not his girlfriend. The two of you had made that more than clear when you first began whatever it is you're doing, the first time Taehyung fucked you to pieces six months ago. Officially, staff members aren't permitted to fraternize with the talent in any way outside of a professional capacity. As the executive assistant to his manager, you're responsible for coordinating and managing Taehyung's schedule—and nothing else. 
Taehyung knew this. Knows this. But after months of you showing up to his every scheduled activity, looking irresistible even in your nondescript work clothes, smelling so damn good every time you came within spitting distance of him—he finally gave in to his demons. He likes to think he seduced you, though you'd laugh right in his face if he said it out loud.
"I don't get seduced," you'd say, crossing your arms across that chest he spends most of his day thinking about. "All I did was give you the time of day. Since you're so goddamn stubborn."
He's not jealous or stubborn by nature—he's the oldest sibling in his family, used to sharing and giving in, used to being part of a team. But for some reason, when he first caught you and Seokjin locking eyes across the room, and then later when he heard the two of you chatting and laughing after the show—he found himself growing inexplicably bitter, enraged, so much so that he didn't even bid the staff and other members good night before leaving the venue.
He just wanted, needed, to prove to everyone that you're his. He knows better, and his hyungs would certainly scold him if they ever heard him speak of a woman this way, but he wants to own you. To claim you.
"Oh, I know I'm not Seokjin's," you hiss as he chases your release, skin slapping against skin. "Seokjin would never treat me this way. Like I'm a dirty—ah, Taehyung, right there—dirty little secret."
Taehyung's too lost in you, too drunk with pleasure, to dwell on your words for very long, though he surely isn't imagining the slight edge in your voice. With one final press to your clit, one final thrust, you're unraveling beneath him, whining his name as you brace against the dresser’s edge. He presses his chest to your glistening back and thrusts once, twice, and then he's coming too, groaning unintelligibly as he releases himself into the condom, his fingers grasping at the flesh on your hips.
It's only later, once you collapse into a sweaty, tangled heap on top of his hotel bed, that he thinks to ask.
"What did you mean, dirty little secret?"
It comes out soft, unexpectedly vulnerable. He curses himself silently. He knows the boundaries. The two of you don't talk like this, don't share like this. You're fuckbuddies. Nothing more.
And he can't have anything more, even if he wanted it. The only thing that comforts him now is that Seokjin can't, either. Not without you breaking your employment contract. Not without you giving up your job.
"That's what I am, Taehyung," you sigh, curling away from him, pulling your knees up by your chest. "You know that. I didn't mean anything by it. Just wanted to get a rise out of you is all. Heat of the moment."
You're only a few inches away from him on the bed, but the distance suddenly feels impenetrable; he's a vast expanse of desert away from the oasis, eyes focused on the bare skin of your back. He swallows and turns over, staring at the ceiling. 
"Okay." He pauses, debates internally, then murmurs, "Are you into Seokjin hyung?"
You scoff and roll off the bed, getting to your feet. "I'm going to shower," you say, in lieu of a response, and then you're shutting the door, and Taehyung’s alone in the dark, hearing nothing but the sound of running water hitting porcelain.
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asa-do-your-thing · 3 months
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Sleigh Ride
Merry early Christmas @gefionne <3
Sansa Stark x Sandor Clegane 18+ MINORS DNI WC: 3,3k Warnings / Tags: fluff, christmassy theme, canon times, massage, sex, breeding king, pregnancy, no beta reads no checks no nothing im sorry
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The bells on the horses' harness collars jingled merrily as they kept their calm pace, puffs of hot steam coming out of their nostrils. The sleigh continued its peaceful journey through the snow-covered forests of the North. Sansa snuggled deeper into her furs, sighing contentedly. Despite the bitter cold, she felt warm and safe next to Sandor. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, guiding the horses along the narrow path. Sansa studied his face in profile, the ruined side she once feared now so dear to her. She smiled, remembering how reluctant he'd been to don the red Father Sevenmas hat she'd playfully plopped on his head before they set out.
"Bloody hells," he'd grumbled. But he wore it still - if Sansa asked, who was he to say no to his little bird?
Up ahead, the trees opened up into a wide clearing. "Look!" Sansa gasped. A snow castle rose in the center of the field, its turrets shimmering in the dimming light. As they approached, the gates swung open and a jubilant group of children streamed out, bundled in furs and warm fabrics. They were all from Castle Cerwyn, and as the Lady of the North, Sansa had made a promise to her people to bring joy to their lives after enduring war, harrying, and famine.
Sansa beamed at Sandor. "Your little admirers await."
He harrumphed, but she caught the twitch of his mouth that meant he was pleased. When the sleigh halted, the children swarmed forward, young voices rising excitedly.
"Father Sevenmas! Father Sevenmas!"
Sandor's eyes softened as he reached into his bag and began handing out gifts - simple things such as nuts, dried fruits and small mittens and scarves. Sansa's heart swelled watching him interact so gently with the babes. Despite his gruff exterior, he had much goodness in him. She took his hand and squeezed it fondly. This was a perfect Sevemmas, indeed. It wouldn't be long until he could be their child's father chrismas, she thought with a smile.
Sansa gazed affectionately at Sandor as he handed out gifts to the delighted children. She placed a hand on her still-flat belly, imagining him one day doing the same for their babe.
After the gifts were distributed, the children begged for a story. With a gruff chuckle, Sandor obliged, his raspy voice spinning a tale of adventure and heroism. The children listened, enraptured, as if Sevenmas had come early. Too soon, the short winter day faded into dusk. Sandor wrapped up his story and helped the sleepy children back inside the gates of their snow castle. As the gates closed behind the last child, he turned to Sansa with a rare, soft smile.
"Well, little bird? How did I fare at playing Father Sevenmas?"
Sansa wrapped her arms around his broad chest. "Wonderfully. I owe you something."
He stroked her hair, his touch infinitely gentle. "No, Sansa, I... I did it for you, you don't owe me anything."
Reluctantly, Sandor helped Sansa back into the sleigh and flicked the reins. The horses began the journey home, back to Winterfell. Sansa nestled against Sandor's side, thinking of the life growing within her.
Sansa gazed up at the night sky as they traveled, the stars twinkling like a thousand candles. She thought of all she and Sandor had endured to find their way here, to this place of quiet contentment. The path had not been easy, but she had no regrets.
"What are you thinking about, little bird?" Sandor asked in his raspy voice.
Sansa smiled. "The future. Our future." She took his hand and brought it to her lips.
Sandor's brow furrowed. "Sansa..."
"I have news," she blurted out. "Wonderful news. I'm with child."
Sandor froze, staring at her. The sleigh slid to a stop. "Truly?" he finally asked.
Sansa nodded, her eyes bright. Sandor let out a shuddering breath and pulled her into his arms.
"You've made me the happiest man in the seven kingdoms," he said gruffly. He tilted her chin up and kissed her deeply.
When they finally broke apart, Sansa laughed. "I believe you were already the happiest man before."
Sandor's eyes shone. "Aye. But now..." He placed a gentle hand on her belly. "Now I'm the luckiest bloody man in the world."
The bells on the horses' harness collars jingled merrily as they kept their calm pace, puffs of hot steam coming out of their nostrils. The sleigh continued its peaceful journey through the snow-covered forests of the North. Sansa snuggled deeper into her furs, sighing contentedly. Despite the bitter cold, she felt warm and safe next to Sandor.
As they glided past towering pines and old oaks draped with icicles that glistened in the setting sun, the soft crunch of snow beneath the skids filled the air. The scent of fresh evergreen needles and frosty breath hung in the frigid night, mingling with the spiced cider from a flask Sandor passed to her earlier; she took a sip, feeling it warm her insides.
"I love you so much, there's nothing I would've loved doing more today than this, seeing children having fun and... well, telling you about our little one. But it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise, seeing as we... did enjoy ourselves a lot as of late," she said contentenly, resting her small, gloved hand on his muscular thigh. Gods, she thought and blushed, how nice it had felt to sit on top of him, their bare bodies touching each other, his thick member buried deep within her heat.
Sansa watched her big, rough-looking protector – but he was so much more than that now – as he kept his eyes fixed ahead, guiding the horses along the narrow path as he blushed and cleared his throat. "Don't tease me, little bird, or soon you'll have a second, third and fourth babe on the way."
To this, Sansa blushed as much as he did and grinned happily.
Sandor looked over at Sansa and couldn't help but smile when she rested her hand on his thigh. He'd always loved the way she blushed when they talked about their intimate moments together. It made something inside him warm up and he felt protective of her, like he always had.
He squeezed her hand gently, his own rough calloused one contrasting with her soft gloved one. "You're an absolute flirt, you know that?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
As they continued down the path through the snow-covered forest, the air was filled with the sound of jingling bells and the crunch of shifting snow beneath the sleigh runners. The trees towered above them, their branches heavy with ice and snow that clung to every bough. The sun was setting fast now, casting long shadows across the landscape as they traveled deeper into the woods.
The sweet scent of pine needles filled the air as they rode along, occasionally a gust of chilled wind rustling them, sending a shiver down Sansa's spine. She looked up at the starlit sky and leaned against Sandor, enjoying the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. The crunching sound of snow under the horses' hooves was like music to her ears. The warmth of his hand holding hers was a welcome contrast to the icy air nipping at her cheeks.
Suddenly, Sansa noticed a small cabin in the distance, lit up by a single candlelight flickering through the window. It was nestled amidst towering evergreens and snowdrifts that reached almost as high as the roof. "Is that our destination?" she asked softly, feeling her stomach grumble with anticipation for some hot food after their long day.
Sandor nodded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Aye, Little Bird. We'll rest there for the night and get some hot food inside us." He guided the horses towards the cabin, their hooves thundering on the frozen ground beneath them. They stopped outside a small hut, its door creaking open as they approached.
A faint scent of smoke wafted out, filling their nostrils with warmth and comfort.
Sansa's eyes lit up as she gently took a step closer. "Sandor... I... That wasn't necessary!"
He, in turn, gave her a small smile and gently kissed her forehead. "Merry Sevenmas, my dear."
As Sansa entered the cozy cabin, she shivered slightly from the cold that seeped through her thick coat. The warmth of the fireplace instantly enveloped her shivering body, and she let out a sigh of relief as her cheeks became rosy from the heat. The scent of wood smoke and freshly baked bread filled her nostrils, making her mouth water. It was soothing to her senses after their long day traveling through the frosty night.
Sandor helped Sansa remove her gloves and coat, hanging them by the door, before leading her over to a small table where a steaming pot sat. There was fresh bread, drizzled with honey and some sort of sweet preserve she didn't recognize, and a bowl of steaming rabbit stew. The juices sizzled and popped as he dished out two big helpings onto plates for them both.
"This is lovely," Sansa breathed out, taking a mouthful of the warm food that melted on her tongue like velvet. She closed her eyes in contentment at the taste – rich broth with tender pieces of meat infused with aromatic spices and vegetables. Sandor watched as she savored every bite, his eyes glowing with pride.
"I'm glad you like it," he grunted between mouthfuls of his own meal. "The old caretaker left some provisions for us." He gestured to a basket near the fire, which looked like it had been brought over by one of Winterfell's servants rather than an old caretaker, yet Sansa didn't care.
As she sank into a worn wooden chair by the fireplace, her fingers lazily tracing the carvings on its backrest while Sandor took his own seat across from her, she let out a contented sigh. She watched as he tore off chunks of warm bread and dunked them into the hearty stew, his cheeks hollowing as he savored each bite. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows on his rough-hewn features, turning them almost angelic in their playful dance. The smell of smoke and wood mixing with the savory scent of the soup made her stomach grumble appreciatively.
"Sandor, this is delicious," she murmured between bites, her voice soft and reverent. "I can't believe how good it tastes after such a long day." Each spoonful filled her mouth with warmth and comfort, melting away any lingering chill from their journey. She leaned back in her chair, watching as he did the same, thinking that perhaps this was their best Sevenmas yet - warm food, a cozy cabin, each other's company.
He nodded in agreement, wiping his beard-stubbled chin with the back of his hand before reaching over to take her smaller one in his large palm. "Aye, Lady Sansa. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed a meal like this." His eyes met hers for a moment too long before looking back down at their empty bowls. "Go lie down on the bed, my sweet, I've something for you, something I think you'll love even more than the stew."
As Sandor spoke, Sansa's heart began to race with anticipation. She placed her spoon down gently and stood up from her chair, swaying a bit as she walked over to him. Her stomach churned with both excitement and fear, wondering what he could possibly have planned for her next. He escorted her to a small bed in the corner of the cabin, made up with soft furs that smelled faintly of woodsmoke and evergreen.
She felt his warmth behind her as he helped her undress, feeling his calloused hands move up and down her skin, sending shivers through every inch of her being. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he undid the ties on her bodice, letting it fall to the floor. His fingers brushed against her bare skin slowly, teasingly, causing goosebumps to form in their wake.
Her breath hitched as he pulled off her stockings and pushed her down onto the bed, watching as he collected some sort of thick oil from a small chest near the fireplace. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on his rugged features as he walked back over to the bedside. Sansa bit her bottom lip nervously, not sure what was about to happen but ready for whatever it was.
Sandor poured some of the hot oil into his hands and began to massage Sansa's shoulders, kneading out the tension she hadn't even realized was there. The scent of spices filled the air and made her moan softly.
As Sansa lay down on the soft furs, feeling the warmth seep into her bones, she felt Sandor begin to massage her tense shoulders. His big hands moved with a deftness that belied his rough exterior, kneading away the knots and kinks that had built up during their day-long journey. With each passing moment, her body relaxed more under his skilled touch. The scent of spiced oil filled the air, mingling with that of sweat and leather from his clothes.
Her heart raced as he trailed his hands down her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh in just the right way to relieve all the tension. He moved lower, kneading her stomach and hips before slowly working his way back up to her thighs. A soft gasp escaped her lips when she felt one of his rough hands glide between them, teasingly brushing against her folds beneath her shift. He paused for a moment, looking into her eyes as he saw the desire there.
She parted her legs slightly, inviting him in, feeling a hot pulse of arousal course through her veins as he rubbed small circles over her most sensitive spot. His touch was feather-light at first, but grew bolder by the moment. The fire crackled and popped in the background, echoing their deepening breaths as he expertly worked his magic on her nerves.
Sansa arched her back into his touch, moaning softly as he continued to pleasure her, his warm, oily hands making her feel things she's rarely ever felt before. Every stroke sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her veins, making her arch back into him and gasp for breath. His rough fingers teased and prodded until she couldn't help but whimper for more.
"Please," she whispered hoarsely, her voice catching in her throat. "I... I want you to bury yourself in me, oh..."
Sandor moved his hands to the buttons of her dress as he knelt between her spread thighs, eyes hungrily devouring her body. The sight of her supple flesh in the soft light of the fire sent a shiver down his spine. His rough fingers fumbled with the buttons, undoing them one by one until they fell open, revealing her creamy white skin to his greedy gaze.
She was breathtakingly beautiful in this moment, her nipples standing at attention under the thin fabric of her shift. He gently pushed it aside, exposing her perfect breasts to the warmth of the firelight's caress. He took one in his mouth, sucking on it hungrily as he ran his free hand down to cup her slick folds.
Her pussy was wet and ready for him; she was soaked with desire, begging to be taken. He rubbed her clit as he sucked harder on her nipple, causing shivers to race through her body. Sansa moaned loudly, her legs shaking as she felt the onslaught of pleasure coursing through her veins.
Sandor couldn't believe how much he enjoyed hearing those sounds escape from her perfect lips, how she trusted him enough to let him touch and taste every inch of her beautiful body. It drove him wild with love and lust.
Without further ado, he lifted himself up and positioned himself at her entrance, his cock already hard as a rock. Nodding needily, Sansa rubbed her soaked heat over the tip of his cock and gasped as he quickly inserted it, filling her up to the brim. Lifting her perfect, delicate legs over his shoulders, he groaned as she rolled back her eyes and squeezed herself around him.
As their hips met and he slowly began to move within her, Sansa's back arched off the bed, a primal cry escaping her throat. The roughness of his skin against hers only made the sensation more intense, and she felt herself grow wetter for him with each thrust. He was pumping into her steadily now, hitting her sweet spot with each powerful stroke.
She reached up to clutch at his shoulders, digging her nails into the toughened flesh as he took her harder and faster. His growls of pleasure echoed in the small space as he took what he wanted; it turned her on more than anything else. Lifting a leg to wrap around him tighter, Sansa dug her heel into his side, begging for more friction.
The cabin filled with their moans and grunts as they moved together, lost in each other's rhythm. The scent of sweat and sex mingled with that of the firewood, creating an intoxicating aroma that fueled their passion. Sandor's rough hands roamed over her supple body, feeling every curve and indent as he slammed into her from behind. He leaned down to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, sucking hard as she cried out in delight beneath him.
As Sandor slammed into her with a growl, Sansa's head thrashed back and forth, her long hair spreading out behind her like a waterfall of fire. Her eyes were slits, filled with desire and need, as she looked up into the his reddened face. She felt him hitting her deep and hard, drawing out exquisite moans from deep within her. His rough hands roamed over her body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.
One hand found its way between them, rubbing her clit just right as the other cupped the weight of one of her plump breasts. She arched her back, pressing herself against his hand while his cock pounded into her from above. The bed groaned beneath them as they moved together in perfect unison. It was raw and primal, driving each other to new heights of pleasure they had never experienced before.
The oil they used earlier on their skin slickened their bodies as they moved together; it created an almost musical symphony that echoed throughout the tiny space.
Sandor's mouth found its way to her neck, his teeth scraping gently against her skin while he thrust harder and faster inside her. He growled low in his throat, "That's it, my sweet girl," he breathed against her skin. "Take it all from me."
His hips bucked fiercely against her and just as he felt her cunny fluttering and clenching around him, he felt his own release nearing. Sandor's muscular body tensed, and his lips curled into a sharp snarl as he felt his imminent climax approaching, a low growl rumbling from the back of his throat.
His hips jerked violently against Sansa's tight, wet cunny, his cock pulsing with the force of his desire for her. Her walls clenched around him, milking the last drops of pleasure from his rigid shaft, begging him to fill her completely. He bit down on her neck softly, just hard enough to leave a mark, claiming her as his own.
Sansa whimpered softly, arching her back as she felt him pulsing inside her, filling her up with his seed. She clenched around him one last time, milking what remained of his orgasm before he pulled out with a harsh groan.
Their sweat-slicked bodies slid against each other, their breaths still ragged and fast. He stayed buried deep inside her for a moment longer before pulling out and collapsing beside her on the small bed. She lay next to him, their chests heaving in unison as she let out a shaky sigh.
"You're mine," he murmured against her neck, planting a kiss there with a roughness that made her shiver in delight. "You always have been. Merry Sevenmas, my little bird."
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ghostaholics · 1 year
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ᴇɴᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇs
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Warning(s): age-gap (reader probably in mid 20s or so); angst A/N: Because I'm too lazy to write a full fic so here's literally a short piece of what I'm sure would've been something if I had the motivation
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JOEL ALWAYS SAID THIS ABOUT YOU – born young enough to grow up in a world that had nothing to offer; you didn’t watch it decay like he did where it used to be half-decent and you could find your place in life before everything went to shit – had grown into something inhospitable and terrible and bitter to the core. No, to you, it was just rotten from the very beginning: broken dreams and scattered ashes littering the filthy ground, a bunch of "what-ifs" and "maybes" and no room for shades of gray when it came to seeing things in black and white because the darkness won out and snuffed out the rest of all that was light and good as the sickness descended like the goddamn Rapture; it wasn’t just the infected that remained – the only people left navigating the wreckage were those with cruel hearts and nasty intentions.
"Well, it's not all that awful," you say, murmuring into the opening of your thermos as you stare fixedly at the last the last few remnants of stew at the bottom. "You're here. I guess that sorta makes up for it."
His figure is hunched over the fire he recently smothered. Even though his back is facing you, the tension in his body is apparent. Rigid – the same way he stiffens up when danger's nearby. "Don't say that kinda stuff." (And it sounds just as serious as “Stay behind me,” or “Run,” whenever hell’s at your both of your guys' heels.)
But you keep on rambling anyways – Pandora's box cracked wide open like a gaping maw that spills secrets, ones that should have never been let out – won’t fucking shut up about it even if you can help it now. And maybe it's not fair to put this kind of burden on him; maybe it's selfish of you to tell him, no matter how wrong it is, but each day could be your last and getting this off your chest might mean one less stupid problem to worry about. It's not like he doesn't know. Not after what happened back in Colorado, anyways. That had made it clear as day if it wasn't already obvious before. "After everything we've been through, I bet you still think of me as that same kid that got under your skin when we first met," you say absentmindedly. It doesn't come out in an accusatory tone, just an observation.
The stress leaches into his voice, washing over every word. Joel's on guard. Walls up. He shakes his head slowly, like a warning. "You've got no idea what you're talking about."
You lean back, transferring your weight into your wrists. "So I'm not right, then?" you ask it innocently enough.
He's moving around, double-checking that all the gear's in place. Of course, he's avoiding any eye contact. "We've got to head out in ten. Now's not the time for this kind of conversation."
"Almost a thousand miles left. All we really have is time. Look, Joel whatever you've got to say, I can handle it. You don't need to spare my feelings.”
He’s fidgeting with his watch as if the strap’s suddenly too tight – a habit he doesn't indulge in often, but one that you've noticed once in a blue moon. Maybe he developed it because of you. Always so sure of himself, but you're the one person who's managed to upend everything. "Get your —"
" —guns are in my pack," you finish for him. It's routine at this point. He's predictable. You know what to expect. "Is it because—"
He cuts you off too. "It's a bad idea." There's a finality to his voice.
So he's thought about this before.
"We've had worse ones."
“People like you don’t end up with people like me,” he says. "Shouldn't."
And you’re taken aback because out of everything that you expected it most certainly wasn’t that.
The ticking of a secondhand, booming – can’t be his watch because that’s been shattered for years – off-rhythm, way too fast; it’s your heart thrashing violently behind the cage of your chest. You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist. Your thumb meets his pulse point and you feel the constellation of tiny scars across the expanse of his weathered skin. He’s warm. Alive. “That’s not — Joel, c’mon, you don’t seriously believe that—”
His eyes flickers down to where the two of you are joined before dragging back up to meet your gaze. "I’m not infected like the rest of ‘em, but this disease turns men into monsters, corrupts them until they're the most twisted versions of themselves. I've done things that I'll never be able to come back from, and when we’re done here, you’re better off finding something else.”
As if you could ever. That's next to impossible. "I've seen all of the ugliest and messiest parts of you and it doesn't change a single thing. I still want you just as bad."
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papakhan · 4 months
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what are ur thoughts on bitter-root
sitting here with my hands clasped together. i have so much thoughts on bitter-root
If you've been following me for a while you'll already know that I'm CONVINCED that Bitter-roots writer only read the brief on the Great Khans and didn't pay any attention to their timeline within the games. Let me break it down for you.
The Bitter Springs Massacre was 3 years before the events of Fallout New Vegas and almost immediately following the 1st Battle of Hoover Dam. That means in 3 years Bitter-Root has gone from "child even the Khans don't consider grown enough to be a raider" to "Sergeant in a top ranking highly specialised and decorated sniper unit" that shit doesn't add up IT DOESNT ADD UP!! He explicitly says he wasn't considered old enough for his Khan initiation--which is the Khans threshold between child and adult--but he Was old enough to join the NCRarmy??? These RAIDERS thought he was too baby to be a raider but the fucking NCR said "yep sign here" HELLO?
okay let's say for argument's sake that he took a year out because he was adopted by Major Dhatri and also First Recon Snipers tend to get picked out from basic training sure sure whatever. That's still 2 years to rise to rank of Sergeant he is LITERALLY THE SECOND HIGHEST RANKED MEMBER?? IN 2 OR 3 YEARS?? okay whatever his adopted dad is pulling strings for him or something I don't know ITS STILL DUMB I'm still having to over-explain to patch up these little holes in his story
I've said it before but everything around the Bitter Springs Massacre is awfulllyyyy written. its all so so bad. Like even with laying out all the facts we do have there's still stuff that doesn't make sense. We don't know why Chance is triggered by fires as a result of Bitter Springs, etc. The thing with Bitter-Root is when he says basically that he killed his parents during the confusion UH WHEN DID HE GET TIME TO DO THAT? While he was running through the Red Pass to evacuate? no he would have been shot. In Bitter Springs itself? With that many witnesses? Even in the confusion, it would have been hard to kill two people without anyone noticing ESPICALLY if he was like firing a gun at them or something PEOPLE WOULD HAVE LOOKED idk it just doesn't make sense to me but that's a whole other thing.
to me as he is in game Bitter Root just kinda feels like the writers feable attempt at writing a "good" khan raider whose fighting for the "good guys"
My version of Bitter-Root would still be like. a child. a teenager someone as a parallel to Jerry the Punk over in the Khans. You can still have him running around Camp McCarren but yknow sticking around his dad and first recon and maybe you can have Dhatri be conflicted about Bitter-Root's dreams to join First Recon because he knows personally how awful Bitter Springs was because he was the one who had to put a stop to it and doesn't want Bitter-Root in the military at All because he doesn't want to see him grow into a heartless killing machine on Either side??? Show Bitter-Root getting blinded by revenge just as badly as Papa and all the other characters in New Vegas who are struggling to Let Go. Hell maybe he could be in the role he's in in game but he ran away from the Khans and his parents way before Bitter Springs and is more like Manny or Boone's age, and idk maybe we could have something about how he Did freeze when asked to fire on his own people or something idk anything
And this isn't me hating on Bitter-Root because I like the Khans and don't want to see anything negative about them. I do like and implement a lot of what Bitter-Root brings to the table, his parents seeming to be very staunchly of the old Khan way while the group itself has moved away makes for some Very interesting politicking within the Khans. Why else would his dad take him off to take potshots at NCR civilians if not because the Khans current government had outlawed it? Papa says outright that killing civilians is cowardly he cant be so blind that he wouldn't apply it to both sides. We also know that their chief law enforcer Regis looks out for women and cares about their independence and I cant see him being in the position of power that he's in if his opinion on women wasn't the majority yknow? So the way Bitter-Roots dad and his friends treated Bitter-roots mom goes against that. All this implies a weird subset of Khans who stick to the old New Khan ways were they teach kids to kill civilians and treat women poorly. Like a said, very interesting politicking and I love fictional politics
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Growing up I never understood why the road to hell was paved with good intentions. Good thing art is such a big part of my life, because I didn't learn that lesson from experience, but through fiction.
The lesson in question is that your intention alone is worth very little. I'm not saying here that good intentions are utterly worthless, 'cause hey you didn't mean to. However, the consequences of your actions can't be erased or reverted just by the cry of "This is not what I wanted to happen".
Now, I'm very aware that I'm writing this post on a bnha blog. You might ask: hey Shan, what does it have to do with anything?
I just want you to think about how bnha plays with the intentionality of the characters vs the consequences of their actions. Forget for a while that you know those characters at all and study them on the basis of what they wanted to do and what they ended up doing.
Example A:
Nana Shimura gave Kotaro Shimura in adoption when he was still a little child.
While she intended to keep him from being hurt by AFO and while she did it out of love and care for her son, her abandonment traumatized him. She left him with a letter to excuse herself and Kotaro grew up knowing that her mother would rather go to save strangers than stay with him.
In consequence, Kotaro was unable to trust in the system of the Hero Society. He became a sad, bitter man with a lot of repressed anger and self-worth issues. He ended up pouring all those thoughts poisoning him into his role as a father and started abusing his kids.
Kotaro had good intentions: he didn't want his kids to become like Nana. He didn't want them to abandon their own families for strangers and act like it was a selfless act of love, instead of a cowardly act of selfishness.
In turn, Tenko Shimura grew up in a house full of abuse and repression. He didn't understand why his dad got so mad whenever Tenko said he wanted to be a hero. No one ever explained it to him. He kept on resisting the rules his dad had set, causing the punishments to become more and more severe.
At the age of 5, Tenko's quirk manifested and reacted to the accumulation of hurt and anger within him. Being a kid and as it was usual in the bnha world, Tenko couldn't control either his quirk or his emotions: the outburst killed most of the Shimuras. Unprepared to deal with the situation, when Tenko reached for Kotaro —his dad— to help him, Kotaro hit Tenko in the face and told him to stay away. It was a familiar gesture between them. It further triggered the kid, tho. Tenko killed Kotaro in his blind fury.
Tenko was now alone, confused, in distress and severely traumatized.
The perfect state for someone to groom him and manipulate him into becoming a weapon.
I don't doubt Nana loved Kotaro and that Kotaro loved Tenko. In fact, if Nana and Kotaro hadn't loved their sons, they wouldn't have reacted the way they did. Both identified a threat (AFO or the Hero Society) and decided for a course of action that would "keep their children safe and sound".
If good intentions were enough, the Shimuras would still be alive, right?
Here's another saying: "ignorance is not excuse".
We have three generations who inflicted great damage on the people around them. A pro-hero, a common man and a villain. The only difference is that Tomura is the least hypocrite of them all: he intended to cause damage right from the start. He was being manipulated by AFO, of course, but he never ignored how his actions impacted other people and he never claimed to be innocent.
Was Tomura right / morally correct? Nope. That's not my point.
What I'm trying to say is that some actions can't be forgiven/erased on the basis of intention alone. This simple fact is one of the side themes of bnha. Pro-heroes cannot be ignorant because there'd be no excuse for their wrongdoings. No matter how much they want to do good, if they hurt people by accident, they still would have to answer for it or well, deal with the consequences themselves.
Example B:
Although Enji, Touya and Shouto's intentions were very different, they all caused (different levels of) damage with their actions.
Shouto recognized that his cold behaviour was having a negative effect on others. He didn't want that, so he became more aware of how he interacted with others.
The entire world got caught up in the middle of Touya's revenge mission. Dabi knew very well he was affecting a lot of people and he knew to what extent his actions were hurting others. He still thought he was willing to pay the price for it, meaning he didn't intend or not to hurt those people in the first place. In order to make Enji's life hell, everything was allowed.
Finally, Enji's journey goes from him being very ignorant on how his actions affected his kids to him realizing just how deep he had fucked up. It was a matter of admitting he had the chances to not do what others told him was wrong, but he still did it 'cause (like Touya) he thought that the end justified the means.
Even if his intentions were different, he turned the blind eye to the damage he was causing.
And like these there are many other cases in the story. Do you remember that time Inko called out All Might on Deku's safety? Or even when Deku left on his own because he wanted to keep his classmates safe? Do you remember Overhaul and his intention/motive? What about Aoyama?
The fact that they didn't mean it doesn't mean that they weren't wrong for doing it. That simple fact is instrumental to define what differentiates Deku's hero style from his predecessors.
Like I said, go back, re-read the story and decide what you want to think about it, okay? Right.
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mytheoristavenue · 1 year
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OP Usopp x Jealous!Reader - Attention Pt. 1
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Summary: During Uta's concert, you find yourself growing spiteful of her due to Usopp's constant fawning over her.
Warnings: Film Red spoilers, dangerous situations, mean and bitter reader.
Note: This will be the first part of two. I had originally intended for it all to be one, but while writing I realized it'd become too long, so I divided it!
"C'mon, (Y/N), why aren't you ready yet?" Usopp whined, glancing at your plain face and hair. "You promised you'd dress up with me!" You sighed, flipping open a handheld mirror, and began to apply the glam rock make up look that he'd picked out for you. You couldn't take him seriously when he was dressed like that, but you'd do anything to make him happy, and he knew that, so it was useless to argue further.
As you did, you vaguely listened to Jinbe inquire about the consumes nearly everyone wore, to which Usopp explained that there'd be some sort of reward for doing so, showing off a set of commemorative pins between his fingers. "You're making us all dress up for buttons?" you deadpanned, shoulders slumping, not deeming that as reason enough.
"For free!" he argued as you rolled your eyes. "Besides, this is her first live show, so they'll be worth a ton of money one day!"
"Uta is a pop idol," you pointed out with a grumble. "What's the point in making us look like we just stepped off stage with KISS?"
Usopp simply brushed off your comments as the lights began to dim. You used the lack of illumination as an excuse to give up on your make up and came to sit on the grass of the pillar you'd all set up shop on. Glancing up at him, you watched his face light up as his eyes traced her movements. Usopp was one of her biggest fans, you knew that much, just from how many times you'd had to tell him to shut off his transponder in the middle of the night. You knew practically all her songs by heart, not by choice, but by how often he repeated them. This was a big moment and you were happy he got to experience it, but you couldn't put away the pang of envy that his undivided attention caused.
-----
"He's totally lost it, right?" you coughed, frozen as your captain walked himself right up on stage while Uta was performing. "Surely this is a bad idea, I mean, she's probably got security, right?"
"I'm sure she does," Nami replied, equally as worried, her brow furrowing. "Probably not enough to take him down, but still. It's attention we definitely don't need."
You couldn't hear the conversation that followed, but you watched on anyways, gasping when Luffy enveloped Uta in a strong hug. "There's no way they know each other, right?" you fretted.
"They better not!" Usopp growled, his fists balling with jealousy. "Man, why does Luffy always know the hottest girls!"
"Usopp!" you shrieked. "Go to hell!"
"What?" he asked, looking around to his friends for backup, wondering what he'd done wrong, only for the ones who cared enough about his question to reply with a disappointed shaking of the head. "What'd I say?"
"I wonder how they know each other though," Robin thought aloud, collecting everyone's attention. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Uta's been in hiding up until now, hasn't she?"
"Well, yeah." The sniper replied, shrugging. "So what?"
"And we've never met her, so she must be some sort of ghost from Luffy's past."
Usopp's expression shifted from his brief curiosity, back into envy over his friend's privileges' to know his crush on a personal level. "Well, we'll just have to ask him then!" He determined, before turning back to face the stage as, ferocity in his eyes. "Hey, Luffy! Since when are you so chummy with Princess Uta?!"
Your stomach churned at his phasing. 'Princess' Uta? She wasn't a princess, it wasn't even a part of her stage name! You were about to confront his words before Chopper pushed past your legs, jumping in the air, and waving his glowsticks in the air. "Yeah, tell us!"
Curiosity disarmed your anger as you captain turned back to his crew with a gleeful grin, one hand still around the pop star's shoulders, and the other holding his hat to his head. "Since forever," he laughed, eyes closed peacefully. "Uta's is Shanks's daughter!"
A shocked hush fell over the crowd, which seemed to encapsulate the whole stadium itself, you and your friends included. A few concert goers shouted out to the singer, asking if what Luffy had said was true. Before she could confirm, however, the show was put to an abrupt pause by the sudden appearance of new faces on the stage.
You grabbed your weapon an prepared to move in with your nakamas upon collectively recognizing a few of them as enemy pirates. "No way," you breathed, brows knit. "Is that-?"
"Brulee." Snaji answered. "Oven too."
"What are the Big Mom pirates doing here?" you asked quietly, backing behind him nervously.
"Don't know," he answered, parting his lips and tossing his spent cigarette to the ground before stomping it out. "But whatever it is, it's got something to do with Uta."
Before you could gather your bearings on what was going on, the Straw Hats were charging into battle to defend the idol, only to be swiftly stopped short by her surprisingly laid back attitude. She kept going on and on about how her would-be captures were, in reality, just overly excited fans. Of course, your valiant sniper had something say about that as well.
"Hold on," he said cautiously, lowering his slingshot, if only slightly. "These guys aren't your fans, they're gonna hurt you!"
The smug look on Uta's face sent chills down your spine as she stepped forward, seemingly to address the crowd, yet she never did. She wasn't really going to sing at a time like this, was she? "Then I guess I'll just have to make a song out of them."
Before you had time to inquire, an angelic voice filled the stadium with the beginning of another set, golden armor materializing on Uta's skin as she danced. To your disturbance, the other pirates you'd been ready to defend her against were forced against the invisible walls of the stadium, suspended in mid air by some sort of sticky white strip.
When the song concluded, Uta gracefully floated back down to solid ground, battle equipment shattering into puffs of glitter as she finally spoke to her audience. "You're all safe now, I taught those mean old pirates a lesson!" You swore you could almost make out tears rolling down her cheeks as you began to return to your camp. "I promise, as long as you're here, nothing will hurt you ever again!" she fluffed, reaching her hands out. "We're gonna have so much fun together, forever!"
You halted in your tracks at her words. Something about how she'd phrased her last address to her fans deeply unsettled you. What did she mean 'Forever'?
-----
The was a recess in the show, where Uta had busied herself with providing all her fans with snacks and commemorative trinkets. She'd even be so kind as to grace your crew with all the resources necessary to have a comfortable cook out. You listened idly as your friends remarked about the blessings they were most thankful for. Sanji mentioned that there were a few ingredients he'd been supplied with that he hadn't used since he left the Baratie, simply for their rarity or high price.
It saddened you to see your nakamas having such a good time, while you were stuck with this pit in your stomach. Did not a single one of them have a bad feeling about this concert, or was it possible that it was only you that hated being here? You had considered the fact that maybe your distain for the idol had an ulterior motive- a silly one at that. Surely, there was no way she'd reciprocate Usopp's feelings and magically steal him away, right?
"Uhm, Robin?" you breathed, sliding into a lawncare beside the woman as she set down her novel to assist you in whatever you needed. "Could I ask you a silly question?"
"No question is silly, as long as you learn something from it." she smiled, turning to sit on her thigh, in order to face you. "What's on your mind?"
You blushed a bit, feeling embarrassed about sharing your suspicions, now shy at the prospect of sharing them with the most intelligent person you knew. "W-well..."
"Is it about Usopp?" she interjected with a knowing giggle. "It's perfectly natural to be jealous with how he's been acting all day."
"W-What?!" you flustered, eyes wide and lips hung again in surprise. "N-No! It's not about him! I-"
"So, you admit he is an issue, just not the most pressing one."
"Robin!" you whined. "I don't have an issue with Usopp!" You whispered, or at least you thought you had. Unbeknownst to you, the sniper had perked at hearing his name, and silently tuned into your conversation, politely parting from his own, in favor of inching closer. "My problem is with Uta."
"Oh?" the archeologist replied, feigning surprise. "What would be the issue with her? You know she isn't influencing his actions in any way."
You huffed, regretting coming to her for advice in the first place, unsure if she was just having a dense moment, or toying with you, considering how common bother were. "Robin, I swear this has nothing to do with Usopp, or how annoying he is when he talks about her, or how jealous I-" you stopped yourself short, back tracking and correcting. "-you think I might be."
"Then what's bothering you so much about her?"
"I've just got a bad feeling about her, I can't put my finger on it." You confessed with a defeated sigh. "I just feel like some of the things she's been saying are kind of...weird?"
"Could you give me an example?" she asked patiently, interest now peaked, especially at the prospect on an observation she may have missed.
"Like that forever thing," you answered. "She said this concert was gonna last forever, that doesn't strike you as odd?"
Robin thought for a moment, admitting that you did have a point. "That is odd, but I would chalk it up to how emotional she is. She said it herself after her first song, all this praise is a lot to take in at once. It may be easy to see her as other worldly, but she's actually just a girl, your age, actually. After living in secret for so long, I could understand wanting such a life changing moment to last forever."
After things had been made clear for you, your vision flashed back to when you'd thought you'd seen Uta crying on stage earlier. You supposed that this was an emotional time for her, maybe Robin had a point. "Okay," you accepted, reloading another example of behavior that you found abnormal. "What about that second song?" you asked, brow cocked, and tossing a thumb in the direction of the other pirates, still hanging in mid air. "How could she possibly do that, just by singing?"
"I thought about that too," she confessed. "It has to be some sort of devil fruit power."
"Yeah, a dangerous one." Before you could talk further your conversation was interrupted the raging of the Straw Hat sniper.
"Are you serious right now?" Usopp spat, fists clenched at his sides. "Are you really shit talking Uta at her own concert? How petty is that?"
You were stunned by his sudden outburst, before you came to an angering realization. "You were evesdropping? What the hell, you creep?!"
"Kinda hard not to when you said my name like four times!" he shot back. "Honestly, I gotta say it's really frustrating to see you stoop so low, (Y/N), over jealousy no less."
Your knuckles whitened with the tightness of your fist as you began to see red. "Jealous?! Don't flatter yourself, Big Nose!"
"Oh, now we're name calling?" he growled, eye twitching with anger. On the sidelines, Robin carefully slipped off her chair, not wanting to be apart of this drama. A few others crowded around the both of you, some to watch you fight, and the others to break you up. "Well, I might have a big nose, but at least I've got damn brain to compensate, unlike you!"
"Puh-lease, you and Luffy might as well share a devil fruit, because you've got a fucking rubber brain!"
"Oh no, is everything okay over here?" A sweeet and gentle voice soothed, one that was foreign to your crew. Glancing to your left, you froze, Usopp, as well as the rest of the Straw Hats following suit. "Please don't fight, we're here to have fun, remember?"
Usopp instantly straighten his back, dusting himself off and clearing his throat. "P-Princess! We weren't fight we were just-uh..." frantically, he hooked a tan arm around your neck, pulling you into a friendly embrace with nervous grin on his plush lips. "Playing, yeah!"
Uta's smile returned, replacing her concern as she giggled at his antics. "What a relief. I hate seeing good friends fight!" With that, she turned away from the pair of you, walking over to Luffy to catch up with him. As soon as her back was turned the sniper relaxed and withdrew from you with a scowl.
"Nice going, you almost ruined my chances with Uta." His words and tone broke your heart. He really was perusing her after all, this wasn't just some silly crush. And now he was unhappy and it was your fault.
"Usopp, I-" you began, guilt tugging at your heart stings. Robin was right, you were just jealous.
"Save it." he snapped, turning away from you to join your friends in swarming the childhood friends as they bickered over the score of a game they played as kids. You sat to the side by yourself, on the ground and hugging your knees as the pair prepared for another round of this game.
You sighed as they finished, both returning to the camp, still arguing over who won. You tried your hardest not to listen, but you couldn't resist when her tone changed.
"Luffy, why don't you stop being a pirate?" she asked sternly, a harsh juxtaposition for the fun loving attitude she'd kept so far. "You could stay here with me forever, all of you. Wouldn't that be fun?"
For the first time, Usopp seeming uncomfortable by Uta's presence, seemingly wanting out of it as soon as possible. You wished you could have taken a bit of pleasure in noticing, but this was not the right time.
"That sounds great...but," Nami began, laughing nervously. "We can't just stay here forever."
"Yes you can," the idol insisted. "I can give you food and shelter and all the things you could ever want!" she chirped, trying so hard to keep up her friendly demeanor, and failing miserably.
"Sorry, but no." your captain finally said, making an executive order. "Becoming a pirate was always my dream, you know that." He gave her a kind smile, turning to descend the steps of the rock formation you stood atop, laughing her offer off. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go back to the Sunny and take a nap!"
"No," she finally growled, head hung in fury. "I wont let you leave."
Pt. 2 coming soon!
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k-s-morgan · 3 months
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︎This is the first time ever I'm writing to a writer as I'm a lil anxious about my English. But after many years of reading your flawless work (TGSTLTH), I really couldn't hold myself anymore; if I stay silent one more second, I'm going to explode from repressed emotions.XD
I'm absolutely going crazy over your storytelling. I think nobody -and I do mean NOBODY- was this close to perfection with the characterization of Sebastian and Ciel. It's like you are working together with Yana herself. You've really managed to catch every aspect of their relationship that made this whole storyline (manga and anime) the way it's been, which seems to be the entire reason why I still can't get over Kuroshitsuji. It's just so dark and dramatic... the bitter power struggle between these two and the way they compete for control —which is pretty entertaining to see when you think about it because both parties are unable to maintain any type of control or authority over the other.
From what I see, this fandom has mixed feelings about S2 of the anime. Some love it, some ignore its whole existence, and some people are okay with it. Unfortunately, I'm the second one. I like the story arcs that are canon to the manga. When I first started to read TGSTLTH, I really thought that fanfic would follow the storyline without S2 in it since you reflect the complexity of the bond they share as a human and demon so prettily. I've always wondered if Ciel, as-twelve-years-old brat, managed to become Sebastian's living hell, how much of a pain in the ass he would be as he grows older. And the plot has several unresolved mysteries that have not been addressed yet. That's why I'm not a big fan of S2; it closes off all the possible ways this story can go as its ending. However, you are the only one who could warm me up to S2; I trust you.
I read the snippets. It was surprising to see Ciel doubting his appearance. I was questioning whether his look-alike was truly superior or if it was just the circumstances influencing his perception. I feel like it's mainly his fear of not being good enough for Sebastian to stay. Which explains his continuous freak-out about the possibility of his soul being unworthy. And I clearly remember Sebastian thinking, "The boy wasn't nearly as pretty" upon seeing him.
Your talent is exceptional and beyond comparison. Please never stop writing. Stay safe...❤❤
B.
Ps. If my English is difficult to read or understand, please feel free to ignore this.
Hi! Please don't worry, your English is absolutely fine! I'm so happy you've been enjoying Those Gentle Slopes so much, and I'm honored that you feel like I did justice to Ciel and Sebastian. They are my favorite characters, and Ciel is probably my most favorite character ever, across all fandoms, so I really treasure the chance to work with them and get such lovely feedback from other readers.
With S2, yes, it created a lot of controversy in the fandom, but also yes, I love it with my whole heart! I always call it a love letter from Sebastian to Ciel. I do have some issues with it, like the exccessive sexualization in general and of Hannah in particular - it feels just awkward sometimes, but the main plot and especially the resolution make me ridiculously happy.
I agree that the bond between a demon and a human is fascinating. I enjoy exploring it a lot, and I so look forward to all the adventures Ciel and Sebastian will have. But I also think that it cannot go on like this forever: even if Ciel got older, sooner or later, something wuld have to give. He'd either die from old age, which would feel like a very underwhelming ending to me, or Sebastian would eat his soul likepromised - but then I'm sure we'd have ended up with the Red Valentine development, where he's lonely, miserable, and missing Ciel. The idea of Ciel becoming a demon in a way that puts such a strain on his relationship with Sebastian - it's like a new life for their bond. So many new conflicts and possibilities could emerge from it - new settings, new events, new power struggles. If you stick around, I really hope you'll like it! And I really appreciate your trust.
And yes, you're absolutely right, Ciel is prettier than his look-alike (at least from how I envision it). Sebastian probably overestimates the difference between them a bit because he's biased in Ciel's favor while Ciel is freaking out because he's been feeling insecure and unworthy for a while at this point, and learning about Sebastian's second contract was just the last blow. These two idiots…
Thank you for your wonderful ask again! I hope you enjoy the next chapter.
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bloogers-boogers · 5 months
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sometimes when scrolling past kyman analysises i get a little worried that people genuinely don't think kyle has the right to be upset with cartman, because he does! And that (+them caring for eachother regardless of anything) is why i like their dynamic:
because even if or when eric changes despite kyle having very much the right to atleast not forgive him.
having cartman become the person kyle always wanted him to be (maybe still being a dick but atleast a more ethical dick) and still holding onto those feelings of resentment is complicated for him, his own morals and both of their progresses!!
Having someone you love/hate grow as a person is complicated!! I think it makes for amazing angst and character development!!
(i hope this makes sense? Sorry for ranting, i've just been thinking about it a lot and am hella curious what u think of it all, or if im being out of line)
YESS YES YESSS THIS YOU GET IT, YOU SEE IT 😩😩
it's not something someone can easily forgive or probably won't ever. Like all the shit Kyle had to endure? Yeah.. but mostly for a character as strong and hotheaded as Kyle. I feel everyone has it easy to forgive Cartman (Stan, Kenny) but Kyle? Fuck even Butters would even struggle. Like you said, resentment. I can see Kyle having to force "growing up" from that bc either his friends persistent on accepting Cartman's changes or because he does feel it's right to do. But those feelings of resentment remain inside.
I think there would be parts of Kyle who'd be overwhelmed by those changes on Cartman, not knowing how to react probably even denial and also fear. And maybe for Kyle, being vulnerable and for Cartman of all people has his alarms going crazy. But there's also this Kyle who's proud for what Cartman archived? Bc in some way he witness that change, he contribute to it. Something he fight for. Something he wanted for Cartman and now that he's seeing actual progress it frightens him which takes away all the hits he was willing to take just to be able to see that happened for granted.
It's a "I endure hell to see you grow" type of cycle. Hope that it'd be better. For them to leave all of it aside and actually be friends. Even if that meant being hurt, humiliated in the process. Sacrifices he was willing to take. And it did but now Kyle remains resentful for it. For all of it.
I like to reflect on Kyle somehow. I went through a lot of emotional abuse for a long period of my life from someone close and I couldn't just back away from. I had to live with them around. There were times that it was great being around them, it was fun, comfortable and then, again a reminder of why I couldn't stand them. Because of all the hurt they gave me. And I just couldn't no matter how many apologies I received from the same person they meant nothing after a long period of abuse. Claims of wanting to "change" but never actually attempting to make that happen. I was hopeful things would be better but it never did, it worsen and I became more bitter about it than apologetic. I forgave but never forgot. And now that they're out from my life I can't ever forgive. Ofcourse this has nothing to do with Cartman and Kyle (it's a show after all) but it's what I use to put myself in Kyle's shoes. And if it weren't for it being fictional I honestly wouldn't be shipping them. But it is fictional and something about their relationship it's different from the rest of the other characters. It's different in the show. They work. I'm not saying Kyle's a victim cause he's fucking not.
They're both in a cycle they created. Kyle ain't no little angel early seasons show a whole other side of him that he outgrew from (not entirely). Kyle can fight back. And Cartman wasn't always some messed up kid just a dumb one. I'm not justifying his actions he's a dick. But I personally see them both in the wrong in the situation they're in.
Besides, their relationship feels more like the show puts them as "rivals". They can hangout, stand each other, be on equal ground, fight, tease, go against each other, get along. Hate is a strong word to use but I can't see them hating each other. Mostly bc we seen Stan telling Kyle to not go along with Cartman's shit if he doesn't want to deal with it, and he does that when he isn't feeling like it! (Tsss is a good example of that) also that episode where Kyle was rejected from the basketball team, Cartman stops his shit the moment he realizes Kyle isn't fighting back. Kyle is complying not standing his ground. It's no longer fun for him. Their relationship feels playful in a sense. That's toxic but that's what they grew use to and it's hard to break a toxic cycle like whatever shit they have going on.
If you hate someone you wouldn't care for what they do outside of you, you wouldn't save their life, you wouldn't be able to fight with them on one side and be friends on the other, you wouldn't rely of the other when things hit the fan/go wrong. These two are something else.
Pretty much their actions say otherwise.
Hahshaha dude I can talk about them all day, this thing is long but this is just me talking in the perspective I see Kyle on. Cartman is a whole other story😭😭
But yes, I get you anon! and don't apologize for the ranting! I love them<3
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dunnswrld · 2 years
Note
Can you do a fic maybe with Johnny where ur at one of the members birthday party and he can’t stop staring at you / dancing with you? smut???!!
PlayGirl
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a/n: Yes ofc I can! Sorry if this is long!!
prompt: It's Ryan's birthday and in order to celebrate you and all the boys go out to some rather large club. Having a couple drinks lead to Johnny's crush on you only becoming more apparent, what comes of it when he finally takes to you?
warnings: Fem!reader, alcohol, SMUT!
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You downed the bitter liquor as your face scrunched up from the taste. Even though you had already taken three before this one you still couldn't mask the taste. This is why taking shots with Ryan and Bam was always hard because of how they seemed to take their shots like water.
"Another round for the birthday boy!" Bam spoke loudly to the bartender over the loud music. Ryan only laughing at his nickname for the night. "Guys I don't think I can do anymore." You said as you slumped back into your seat. "Oh come on Yn! It's my birthday you have too!" Ryan spoke. "Ryan my throat burns like hell right now." You said.
"Get a tracer! Geez simple problems with simple solutions." Ryan said with a teasing tone. "Fine one more. That's it though." Ryan nodded knowing that it probably wasn't going to be your last. The bartender soon came over with your threes shots as thanks you could be heard from the three of you.
"Cheers!" Bam said as you all clicked your small glasses together and then threw the liquid into your mouths. You set your glass onto the counter as you stick your tongue out trying to air out the taste in your mouth. "God it just gets worse each time." You said. "Oh grow a pair Yn." Bam said with a goofy smile on his face, the alcohol obviously kicking in for the boy.
"Yeah whatever Margera." You said with a smile and playful eye roll. You hopped off your stool before saying to the pair, "I'm going to go see what the other guys are up to." Both the boys seemed to nod you off and tell you to find them later. You walked away from the bar as you were met with a large group of people to push through. You pushed through the crowd, trying to make your way to the vip sitting section of the club to find your friends.
Once you found the end of the crowd and the small chain separating the club dance floor from the vip sitting section. You unclipped the chain and stepped in, making sure to clip it back onto the post to avoid any possible future issues.
You walked up the small set of stairs to the couches and soon saw the familiar faces of the rest of the Jackass crew. All of them sitting back and drinking various kinds of alcohol.
"Oh hey Yn there you are." Ehren said as his eyes landed on you, Ehren's hello caught the attention of the rest of the guys and caused them all to great you. Though you got the attention of all the boys you caught Johnny's attention the most.
This was his first time seeing you tonight since you drove separately, and he was really going to make sure he took it in. Your outfit consisted of a pair of white converse, black jeans, and a white cropped tank top with a black play bunny logo in the center, and boy did Johnny love it.
The alcohol in Johnny's system wasn't helping the fact he was crazy for you, everything you did drove the boy mad. Johnny was first scared at you finding out about his crush but now he could care less, all he wants now is well, you.
What Johnny didn't know was that you were just as crazy for him as he was for you. He made you weak in the knees every time he would look at you, talk to you, or touch you. He had you wrapped around his finger and you had him wrapped around yours but neither of you knew it.
"Sorry I didn't find you guys sooner Ryan and Bam wanted to take shots at the bar by the dance floor for some reason." You laughed. "Don't stress it dude! Want a drink?" Steve-o asked from the floor, leaning against the couch for more support. Which you didn't understand why he was on the floor since there was plenty of room for him to sit but you weren't going to question him.
"Oh no I'm good Ryan and Bam just made me take four shots and I can defiantly feel it." You laughed. You ended up take a seat on the couch across from Johnny next to Chris and Ehren, you made sure you crossed your legs when you sat.
"Well we are here for Dunn but I guess he didn't want us at his birthday party." Chris said earning a chuckle from you. "He's probably getting shit faced before he remembers we're here and not just Bam." Steve-o responded with a half laugh.
You felt the eyes of someone on you, turning your head straight to see the eyes of Johnny on you. Even behind the sunglasses you can feel his gaze on you heavily. You lightly smiled at Johnny and he gave you a slight nod. Johnny took his hand off the back of the couch and tapped his hand on the open seat next to him. Your eyes widened a bit as his action.
You looked at Ehren and Chris who were both too busy in other conversations so you stood up from the spot between the boys and walked across the room to Johnny, where you took a seat next to him. Johnny placed his arm around your shoulder when you sat down, wasting no time to set the mood he was feeling.
"Well hello Knox." You said with a chuckle. "Hello to ya too, sweetheart." You felt your cheeks flush from the words that fell off his southern tongue. "So why did you sit next to Pontius and Ehren instead of me?" He asked in a voice only loud enough for you to hear.
You shrugged feeling hot at his sudden question. "Aw come on, I'm not scary aren't I?" He smirked. "Only when you feel like it." You teased. Your teasing earned a laugh from Johnny.
"Well ya look real pretty tonight, especially in that top." You looked down at your top and realized what one you were wearing. "I bet you do like this one, more so the logo." You said. "Yeah but more so I like the logo on you." "Oh stop it." You blushed, "Don't get all flustered on me now, playgirl." Your throat went dry at the new nickname Johnny gave you.
"Playgirl?" You repeated. "Maybe that's an understatement on how attractive you are huh?" You shook your head with a light chuckle at Johnny's words. "That alcohol is making you really flirty." "Just speaking my mind doll."
You looked at Johnny, trying to see any glimpse of his eyes that you could. When you finally got sick of trying to make out his eyes you so desperately wanted to see you gently brought your hands to his sunglasses and lifted them onto his head, placing them on his brown hair.
Johnny's brown eyes hung low from the alcohol in his system, but they looked so lovely to you.
"Sorry I wanted to see you better." You said with a light smile. "Don't apologize." Johnny chuckled. Johnny brought his hand up to your face and brushed your hair to the side so he could see your face in the dime colorful lights of the club.
"The things you do to me doll." Johnny said as he shook his head with a laugh. "What things?" You asked knowing well what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it. "I'd rather show ya." Johnny smirked. Johnnys other hand moved to your thigh as he gave it a squeeze, his eyes looking at his hand then back to your eyes but instead they were looking down at his hand that were placed on your thigh.
A hot blush rose to your face as you picked up his hand and moved it back to his lap gently.
"Not in front of everyone." You said as you turned your head away from his direction, embarrassed of how flustered he was making you. "Then how about we go somewhere private, would you like that?" Johnny asked as he gently grabbed your chin and made you face him.
"Your just drunk Knoxville..." You said mumbled. "Drunk words are sober thoughts." You stayed quiet at his words as you looked into his eyes, the alcohol in your system not giving you a boost of courage like you were hoping. "Come on, let's just go somewhere private. We don't have to do anything you don't wanna do sweetheart." Johnny said in a reassuring tone. You finally nodded at his words and Johnny rose to his feet, holding a hand out to you. You took his hand and he helped you to your feet, but when you were standing he took his hand away from yours. But it wasn't long till he threw his arm around your shoulders.
Johnny lead the way as his arm was around you. He walked you both deeper into the vip section where you past many people, some of the people sitting down were even familiar to you. You had to guess that some where here for Ryan's birthday.
"Hey where is Knoxville and Yn going?" Dave asked the group as he watched you and Johnny walk away from your group. "Who cares just means we can put our drinks on Johnny's tab." Steve-o devilishly smirked.
Johnny walked you a bit further deeper into the vip section till he stopped at a door. The door had the words 'Bathroom' plastered on it. Johnny knocked on the door and paused for a second and when he heard no indicator that someone was in there he pushed the door open.
"Ladies first." He smiled, you thanked him as you walked into the bathroom. Johnny walked in after you and shut the door behind him, clicking the small lock on the door. You stood in front of the sink as Johnny leaned against the wall directly in front of you.
A silence fell over you two in the bathroom, neither of you knowing how to pick up a conversation. Johnny even mentally punching himself for bringing you in here and making things weird.
"So..." You said trying to break the silence. "Did I tell you how much I liked your top?" Johnny smirked. "Yes you did." You giggled. "Well I like it a lot." "I like you, a lot." You said, your alcohol finally giving you liquid courage. Johnny's eyebrows raised at your words, he didn't know what to expect from you but it wasn't that.
"The feelings more than mutual doll." "Really?" You said quickly. You couldn't help but curse yourself for responding to him so quickly. "Yes really, ever since season one when we both were getting sprayed by that skunk and we had to share a bath of tomato sauce. I thought you were really cool for doing that with me even after just our second time meeting. You made the bit fun even though it was hell." Johnny laughed.
You felt your heart become fuzzy at his words, it made you happy to hear Johnny not only say he really liked you and it wasn't just the alcohol in his system but that it was when you also smelled like a skunk.
"I started liking you when in season two you carried me all the way back to the ambulance when I broke my leg trying to land that skate trick off that huge stair case and the ambulance couldn't come all the way to us cause we were so far out in the park. But even though we were fifteen minutes away from them you still carried me the whole way. I don't know but that made me fall hard for you."
"I can't tell you how great it feels to say I like you out loud," Johnny laughed lightly. "Ever since that moment in the tomato sauce bath I just wanted to tell you I liked you and treat you how you deserve to be treated." You looked at Johnny and he looked at you, your brain fuzzy from the alcohol you had and you were sure Johnny's was the same.
"Show me how you think I deserved to be treated then, Knox." You said looking straight at him. The roles of you two had almost switched, Johnny was the only being bold at first but now it was you being bold. "Wha-What?" Johnny breathlessly chuckled out, "You heard me Knox." "Maybe you are a playgirl." Johnny smirk as he pushed himself off the wall and took a step towards you. Johnny placed his hands onto the sink that rested behind you, completely locking you in.
Words didn't need to be exchanged between the two of you as you both slowly started leaning in, your eyes moving from his to his lips then back to his eyes. You moved your hand to his cheek and your lips finally connected.
Johnny's lips were soft, liquor and mint complimenting them. The kiss was quick to get hot, Johnny wasted no time putting his tongue in your mouth and you had no problem with it. Johnny's hands also moving from the sink to your waist.
Johnny moved his hands lower to your legs and tapped your leg, telling you to jump onto the counter of the sink without having to break the heated kiss you two shared. You easily understood what Johnny meant and jumped onto the counter, spreading your legs and wrapping your hands loosely around his shoulders and pulling him closer to you to fill the gap between your legs.
Johnny soon took his lips off yours and kissed down your jaw till he hit your neck where he began to gently bite your neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you soaked in the feeling of Johnny's teeth on your neck.
Johnny moved closer to you filling whatever little space you had left, his growing erection brushing against your thigh as he placed sloppy kisses on your neck.
"Johnny-" You whined out, Johnny pulled away from your neck only to move up to your ear and whisper gently. "Gotta use your words doll, I can't read that pretty little mind of yours." He said as he gently bit your earlobe. "I need," You paused from finishing your sentence as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. "You. I need you." You said breathlessly.
"That's all I needed to hear." Johnny said as he began to undo his belt. You followed his lead and unbutton your pants, shimming them down to your ankles as Johnny dropped his pants to his ankles as well. Your body became hot as you looked at the large tent in Johnny's white boxers. "Weren't you ever told staring's rude doll?" Your eyes quickly moved up to his eyes as you looked at Johnny's face that had a smug look on his face.
You didn't respond to him and instead you moved your hand up his shirt, dragging your nails on his abs as you felt his stomach tense up from your touch. Your hand dragged down from his stomach to his boxers were you wrapped your hand around the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, his tip was a light pink and leaking with pre cum.
Johnny watched as you brought your hand closer to your mouth and spit in it then bring your hand back down to his erection and wrap your hand around him. You gently moved your hand up and down as you spread your spit all along his dick using it as a make shift lube. Johnny furrowing his brows as he let out a breathless groan.
Johnny brought his pointer and middle finger to his mouth and sucked on them till he was satisfied enough with how covered they were in his own spit. When he removed his fingers from his mouth a string of saliva connected his fingers from his lips, it quickly broke when he moved his hand downward to were you wanted his attention most.
Johnny used his ring finger to hook your underwear and pull it off the the side giving him a better view of you. You even spread your legs a bit to help him out. Johnny slowly ran his two fingers up and down your clit causing you to stop moving your hand up and down his dick and bring your free hand to his chest where you let out a soft whimper.
"I can't wait any longer sweetheart m'sorry." Johnny said bringing his two fingers away from your heat as he moved them to your lower back, scotching you closer to the edge of the sink and closer to him.
Johnny grabbed his own length and began to slowly rub his tip against your folds, a breathless moan coming from your lips as he did so.
Johnny then slowly put it in, once he had every inch in you pure bliss ran through his body. Johnny tipped his head back as he let out a low groan. Johnny bringing his head back to level before he began to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you began to softly moan into Johnny's ear, only adding to the pleasure for him.
"God you're so tight." Johnny said with a shaky breath as he began to pick up the pace of his thrusts. "Keep going Knox, please don't stop." You quietly begged in his ear.
You didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system or just how good Johnny made you feel but your toes began to go numb as you quickly realized your high was coming quickly.
"Oh wow you feel so good for me. Never thought you'd feel this good." Johnny spoke. He brought his thumb to your cilt where he began to rub circles, only adding to the pleasure you had already felt. Your hand by habit went to Johnny's upper wrist as he rubbed circles on your cilt, the feeling was almost over baring.
"Knox- Ah- I'm so close already-" Johnny only shushed you softly. "I know doll just ride it out for me." Johnny spoke as various moans fell from your lips.
Johnny listened to the sweet sounds falling from your lips. This was making Johnny only become closer to his high from being able to pleasure you, he loved seeing you enjoy yourself like this.
"You look so pretty doll, like my own little playgirl." Johnny groaned. You only moaned loudly at his words, the familiar know forming in your stomach. "Oh god Johnny- I'm gonna-" Johnny quickened his thrusts and circles around your cilt as he understood what you were trying to tell him.
Johnny's movements only made the knot in your stomach quickly come undone as you let out an ungodly noise from your mouth as your high came crashing down on you, causing you to fall from Johnny's shoulder backwards onto the mirror behind you. Johnny quickly pulled out and moved his hand quickly up and down on his shaft, causing him to cum quickly after he began moving his hand up and down.
Johnny let out a moan as he came, gently stroking his shaft as he came down from his own high. Johnny then slumped onto your shoulder as he panted, your chest moving up and down heavily from your own high you just rode out.
"That was better than I could've ever imagined." You said with a small breathless giggle. "You're telling me, I don't think I've ever came that fast." Johnny laughed as he stood himself up again and looked at you, realizing how you two were in a bathroom of a club for one of your best friends birthdays.
"Ok let's get you cleaned up playgirl, can't have Dunn crying over how we weren't there when he blows out his candles." Johnny said with a smile as he placed a kiss on your forehead.
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theladyalicent · 8 months
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Hot Take: Alicent’s characterization from Episode 8+9 should have been her characterization during episodes 6+7 (up until the eye incident), where she was still trying to make some sort of peace while also trying to protect her kids.
Her characterization in episodes 6+7 should have been her final characterization. Scheming and working more actively against Rhaenyra and undermining her. Calling her out during small council meetings and giving her the stink eye and more actively making her kids aware of the danger (with them getting her concerns since it would be after Aemond lost his eye).
It just feels like they went backward instead of forward. That last bit isn’t a hot take. But still.
i don't feel like this is a hot take because it's... very real
i'm sorry but no amount of arguments will ever make me not believe that episode 8 alicent was a mess, writing wise
i mean think about it: alicent is groomed by her father and rhaenyra's father, rhaenyra's father decides he wants to marry her, rhaenyra is upset with her and stops talking to her for 3 years. at this point alicent is still trying to reach out. she's been through the hell that must have been the beginning of her marriage alone, she gave birth alone, she underlines herself that she doesn't have many friends (which is weird, and another decisionTM by the writers), rhaenyra never tries to call out her father for picking her best friend and is likely more upset with alicent even though she is aware alicent's position is a unpleasant one ("it bothers you does it not?" "laena is your daughter princess, does it bother you?" "of course it does")
so if anyone is blaming a woman for the deeds of a man first, it's rhaenyra. at no point after that even during their good times does she try to help alicent. to me it's always been a friendship where alicent gives and rhaenyra receives. it's alicent who always thinks of her and wants to go back.
and then of course comes the lie that makes her look like a fool and she loses the only family member she had at court with her. even when that man wasn't having her own mental health as his priority, she still depended on him as being the only one in her corner, even if it was for his own benefit. she's all alone, for a long time. she grows bitter, and rightfully so. i think for me the point of no return would have long before that but i digress.
by this time it's obvious rhaenyra's children as bastards, harwin makes it a done deal too, and after years and after all of that rhaenyra thinks of making an offer: marry your only daughter to my son who is obviously a bastard. she refuses, everyone is like omg "don't you see how hard rhaenyra tries?" eyeroll etc etc
then episode 7 happens with aemond and well, that should be a done deal for anyone right? it would be for me. i think i'd rather chew glass than think of rhaenyra as a friend at that point. emma was right, alicent is gaslighted and dare i add humiliated in front of an entire room of people. her son loses his eye, rhaenyra asks for even more of him, viserys couldn't care less and in the end it is still alicent and her sons that get threatened by viserys.
by that point i would be planning big, violent things
it is unrealistic to me that alicent still holds and treats rhaenyra with kidness in episode 8, that she has kind words for her, that she does so without being given an apology for aemond, especially after daemon and vaemond. imo it is unrealistic. she should have been scheming the biggest scheme.
this isn't a woman turned into an evil caricature, this is a normal reaction to living in a hostile environment with a hostile family that does not regard you or your children with love or respect.
unfortunately alicent is being largely written in a way to tell rhaenyra's story so she has to have such deep love for her that is bigger than for anyone else because the writers need to show how special rhaenyra is and how much they love her through alicent. as a character, she's forever tied at the ankle to rhaenyra and the narrative is largely written to punish alicent for not choosing rhaenyra. this is also tied to jaehaera having to die and the "sins of our father" trope.
no matter how we like the green characters and their potential, the writers largerly care more about team black characters and have striped alicent of much of her ambition.
it is silly to write alicent as a character that only finds out in episode 9 that "the council" was planning to instill her son as king. it is silly to write alicent as choosing to crown her son and by extension declare war literally.... overnight. it is silly further for her to do it or push the idea that just before he died, viserys whispered of aegon ii.
of course that is the story we're given, but it is ultimately not a great story for alicent hightower and they could have done so much better, but they were mainly focused on writing daemon and rhaenyra and that's about it.
but yeah, i totally agree. anything positive from alicent past episode 7, especially in the manner in which she acted during the dinner in episode 8, is unrealistic imo.
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ashersskye · 17 days
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I was asked by someone to talk about why it can be hard to enjoy things sometimes, like the element of guilt and shame around feeling happy, wanting things for recreational fun, even when times are tough and money might be tight.
And it can be more than just hard, it can be impossible at times. There is definitely the element of guilt in the concept of play, especially as an adult. To purposefully choose rest? To purposefully set aside the stress and pick something that soothes instead?
There is a type of vulnerability that comes with it. Like, "why am I not doing this or that right now? I cant afford to rest, i need to be working right now." There is a sense of survival to it all. The sacrifice to get it right, so you don't lose all that you have.
I think this is especially hard if our parents taught us to prioritize work, don't play around so much, grow up & accept responsibility, etc. To be put with such a burden as a child, is just the pavement for the burnout and depression you feel now.
These feelings are so valid, and something a lot of us struggle with. And I think probably the best thing you can do, is to reframe the concept of rest in itself.
Rest is necessary. Rest helps you stay alive, too. Rest is what helps your brain breathe. Rest helps you process on a deeper level. Rest is what gives you purpose.
Resting looks different for everyone. Those childhood hobbies you've wanted to revisit? The games you could never play as a kid? The anime or cartoons you used to watch, or never got to watch? The toys your parents took from you? The innocence and joy you had to sacrifice far too long before your time? You have the right to reclaim that.
Something that helped me a lot with this, was to understand that adults are allowed to have fun too. Just because you're old and grown up now, doesn't mean you gotta do the same old and grown up things your parents did. That's why they're so bitter. They never learned how to have fun. They never learned how to rest.
And maybe that's a hard concept to sit with, you know? Life sucks! It's not always happy fun times! Shit happens!
The concept of rest is what helps us find compassion for ourselves even while life sucks. You don't have to be happy right now, if you don't feel like it. You can be sad, mad, angry, depressed. You can be all of these things, and do nothing about it. You can be all of these things, and dwell in it if you need to.
But, you can also be all of these things and still find time to rest it out. You can enjoy that hobby and still be mad and angry at the end of the day. Be mad and angry while you do it. Do it because you're mad and angry.
My therapist loves it when I tell her, "i wanna take next week off." She says I'm one of the only clients who says that to her. She says, she likes it because I know when I need a break. You don't always have to be working so hard. You are allowed to set those burdens down and take a break.
Even if it's stressful, even if money is tight. You can and still deserve to enjoy yourself in the process.
And speaking of money, let's talk about how society frames poverty in this day and age. People will say shit like, "you're poor because you lack financial management."
Mm. Do yourself a favor and reframe the hell out of that. You're not poor by choice. You don't deserve to suffer just because finances are tight. There is never any moral judgement that should be placed on you just because you can't afford to live like the standard. That is ableist, classist rhetoric at its best.
If you're low on funds and still wanna enjoy your hobbies, consider ways you can get them for free. Oftentimes I've taken to watching let's plays of video games I wanna play, but can't afford. I live vicariously through the free entertainment the world has to offer. I've found refuge in DnD podcasts, gaming videos, art therapy, etc. Sometimes there are even local events in ur area that are hosted for free. You can even check out your local Facebook marketplace for freebies in ur area, too. You definitely don't need money to find a good time. You just need the mindset to know you're deserving of your freedom & autonomy, no matter how you gotta find it.
You deserve the comforts. You deserve the same joy and comfort and happiness of giving yourself the grace and compassion of knowing your situation does not define you.
Go out and find your own definitions of how you want to handle comfort, rest, and your right to feel whatever it is you need to feel about it.
Hope this helps 🌸
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