#Excuse my terrible humour
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bungouchronicles · 9 months ago
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Bram Stake(r)
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atlantis-just-drowned · 1 year ago
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I’m starting to panic but strangely enough, there is no disco
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dragon-kazansky · 7 months ago
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Bridgerton shade of blue
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Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Season one
Chapter Nine - Late night scandals
♡♡♡
"What do you think Bridgerton?"
Benedict turns around to find the artist he had accidentally offended at the gallery the other night.
"This one more to your liking?"
"Mr. Granville--" Benedict raises from his chair to approach the man.
"Perhaps they should take it over to Somerset House so it can be skyed right next to mine."
"I believe I owe you an apology, sir." Benedict says, feeling rather embarrassed.
"Unnecessary. I actually quite enjoy the eloquent stings of your critique. So?" He gestures back to the painting on the wall.
"A touch morose for my tastes," Benedict says.
Henry points to the next one.
"A tragedy. The hound deserved better," Benedict comments.
Granville laughs. "Where is yours?"
"My..."
"Your work," Granville clarifies. "Are you tell me you're not an artist yourself?"
"Well, I-- I suppose sometimes I like to... Well, I mean, I almost--"
"I believe 'yes' and 'thank you' are the words you seek. But either way, you should come by my studio." Mr Granville holds out a small card to Benedict, who accepts it. "The pieces I do for myself are there, and I think you will find my real work far less, um... Oh, how did you put it? 'Cold and lacking inner life?'"
Benedict scrunched up his face as he nodded, still burning with embarrassment. "I shall never live that down, shall I?"
Mr Granville leaves.
Benedict returns to his table where he had been absentmindedly doodling. Eyes. He was sketching out a pair of eyes. Pretty ones. From memory.
He sighs and closes the sketchbook.
♡♡♡
As you sit in the drawing room of the Bridgerton house, as invited by Violet, you discover that she had no idea about the boxing match, or that Daphne had been there.
You keep your eyes focused on the latest Whistledown paper, though you had stopped reading it.
Daphne was playing the piano while her mother interrogated her.
"A boxing match is no place for any young lady." Violet sighs.
"Is it a place for a prince? Was he at today's match, sister?" Hyacinth asks.
"He certainly was."
"It is a loathsome and barbarous form of entertainment," Violet was very displeased.
That was when Daphne took the opportunity to mention you had gone as well, which had Violet looking at you.
"You too?"
You glare softly at Daphne, who gives you a smug little look. Crafty one, she is.
"Anthony invited me," you admit.
Violet looked terribly ill all of a sudden. You were sure she would being this up with her eldest son at some point.
"What about the duke?" Hyacinth asks.
"What about the duke?" Both Violet and Daphne ask at the same time. You eye Daphne curiously from your seat.
"Was he also present?" Hyacinth asked, less enthusiastic now.
"I do not know," Daphne says. "If the duke was there, I did not see him."
Hyacinth leaves the piano to go see what Eloise is up to. She had been scribbling away in her book since you arrived.
You put the Whistledown column down and rose from your seat to seek entertainment near the window. Watching the street was surely more entertainment than listening in on that conversation.
Anthony enters the room and greets both his mother and his sister. You turn and he greets you too.
"Did you truly take your sister to a boxing match?" Violet hounds him.
"Your admonishment will have to wait. I have news," he cuts her lecture short. "Prince Friedrich has asked for my permission to propose." He looks at Daphne.
She stops playing. "So soon?"
"Well, what did you tell him?" Violet asks.
"That I know better than to answer for my sister. I have no objections to the man. People speak well of him. Whatever you decide, Daph, you shall have my support."
You look at Daphne quietly.
"I... uh... I..." She doesn't know what to say.
"You need not decide now," Violet tells her. "You certainly have no known him long."
"Let me know when you have an answer, and I shall convey it." Anthony says to his sister.
"Indeed." Daphne looks at him.
Anthony leaves as quickly as he came in. It was clear Daphne needed time to think.
♡♡♡
When Daphne had pleaded with you to attend the next ball with her, you couldn't say no. There was a sadness to her gaze, and you wondered from where it had risen.
Something had happened between her and the duke, and she had been off kilter ever since.
The ball, like all had been so far, was wonderful. The theme was a little more out there this time, but everyone was behaving quite perfectly.
You were standing with Daphne as she scanned the crowd. Exactly who she was looking for, you weren't quite certain. You would suggest the prince on the account that the duke was apparently leaving London tonight.
The prince could be seen across the room. He was in conversation with someone. You glance toward Daphne, but your gaze shifts as Cressida Cowper comes over. You give Daphne a gentle nudge.
"Daphne." Cressida chuckles. "You look beautiful, as always."
"Thank you, Cressida," Daphne says politely.
"You could have chosen anyone," Cressida says. "You have gentlemen lined up to pay you tribute. Yet you did not hesitate to steal my chance for happiness away, did you? I knew the marriage market would make rivals of us, but I never thought youcapable of being my enemy."
"The man made his choice, Cressida. What did you expect me to do?" Daphne asks.
Daphne walks off in the direction of the prince. You look at Cressida and then walk off in the other direction.
There is nothing you could ever say to her.
You begin to walk alongside the dance floor, watching the couples dance. A hand comes into view, and you turn to see a friendly looking young man smiling at you.
"May I have this dance?"
You take a moment to gather yourself. You had hoped one of the Bridgerton boys would be here to dance with you, but you supposed you couldn't rely on them every time.
"You may."
You go with him to dance.
It seemed Benedict wasn't here.
♡♡♡
Benedict was, in fact, making his way to the studio of Mr. Granville. He was intrigued by the artist.
He finds the address and knocks on the door. Henry Granville answers.
"Mr. Bridgerton."
Benedict stands there a little awkwardly.
"Come in, come in."
Granville lets him in. Benedict enters and follows him. He is led further inside and finds himself in a large room. A circle of easels presented around two nude models.
"I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this." Benedict says.
"Oh, simply a gathering of like-minded souls." Henry tells him. "Here, let me show you what I've been working on."
Benedict is led further inside the studio. He passes a couple of painters discussing war so causally.
"What do you think?" Henry asks.
Benedict walks over and takes a look at the canvas.
"Hmm. It's a far cry from Somerset House, I must say."
"I shall take that a compliment."
They both chuckle.
"And I must say, I'm truly jealous. Is this your life?" Benedict asks.
"There are advantages to being the second-born." Henry tells him. "Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun."
They both chuckle again.
"So... why not go have some fun?" Henry gestures to the models. He's giving Benedict the chance to epress himself through art.
Benedict picks an easel and sits down.
♡♡♡
As you dance once again tonight, you spot Anthony standing off to the side. He's staring at the opera singer.
You hard heard whispers about him being infatuated with an opera singer, but had no idea if there lay any truth to them.
You continue dancing with your partner.
Benedict was still a no-show tonight, which you found to be rather disappointing. You had been looking forward to another evening of his little quips and teasing.
When the dance ends, you curtsy to your partner and head in the direction of Anthony and Violet. Lady Bridgerton had tries to introduce her son to a rather pretty young lady, but he showed no interest.
"Shall we dance, Lord Bridgerton?" You ask, looking at Anthony.
He turns and looks at you, for half a second, thinking you were another lady his mother was intent on pushing on him.
"Yes, let's." He offers his arm, and you take it. Violet watches you both go. Even if he chose you, she would be pleased, but she knows her son will not take you as his wife. You're his friend who has come to rescue him from her for a while.
Violet downs a third glass of champagne.
"She is persistent," you say.
"Hm?"
"Your mother."
Anthony chuckles softly. "Yes. Quite."
"The opera singer..."
He looks at you.
"Nevermind. Its not my business."
Anthony's expression softens. "I was - am - found of her."
"Yes. I assumed as much."
Anthony sighs. "It's complicated.
You nod and say no more on the matter. Anthony spins you around elegantly.
"Is Benedict not here tonight?" You ask, twirling with him.
"Benedict? No." He gazes at you. "Why do you ask?"
"I just noticed his absence."
"Missing your dance partner?" He teases.
You chuckle. "Am I that obvious?"
He winks at you, and you shake your head with a smile. "I'm fond of you boys. I can't help it when I notice one of you is missing."
Anthony grins. "How lucky we are to have gained such a special friend such as you."
As Anthony gives you another turn around the floor, you spot Colin speaking with Penelope. You smile softly at the sight and then turn your attention back to the eldest brother.
At least you'll have one Bridgerton on your dance card tonight.
As the next dance begins, Anthony keeps your company longer. You're aware this may catch attention from others, especially Lady Whistledown should she be here, but none the less, you dance with him twice.
You soon see that Colin has left Penelope on the sidelines to dance with Miss Thompson, and you also find the prince talking to Daphne amidst their dance.
The dance ends, and you manage to catch sight of Daphne fleeing the ballroom.
Anthony bows, and you curtsy.
"Until next time." He nods his head at you. You smile and nod, taking your leave. You worry about Daphne and intend to go check on her, but you're stopped by another gentleman.
You sigh and realise you'll have to dance with him before you can flee again.
The dance feels like it drags on, and on, and on. You smile, you listen to your partner talk, but your mind is focused on Daphne. She did not look well when she fled.
When the dance ends, you spot Anthony leaving the ballroom. You waste no more time and follow him.
He heads outside. You follow.
"Anthony?"
He turns and looks at you. "Go back inside."
"What's the matter? What's happening?"
"Did you see him?" Anthony asks urgently.
"Who?"
"The duke."
"He is here?"
"He was, and now I can't find Daphne." You realise he's concerned about his sister.
You hear something further in the garden, and Anthony hurries off. You follow him, close on his heels.
What you find is not what you ever expected to see.
Simon and Daphne were not just kissing. His hands were all over her. Her dress had been pulled down. You cover your mouth, though you can not hide the gasp that escapes you.
Anthony runs at Simon.
"Bastard!"
Simon receives a strong punch to the face. He falls to the ground, and Anthony takes another swing. He punches him a third time and then stands beside his sister. You hurry to her other side and checks her over.
"Daphne..."
She is speechless. She has no words for you. They have been caught in a compromising position.
"You will marry her," Anthony declares.
"What?" Daphne looks at her brother.
"Immediately. We can only hope no one saw you take such liberties, and my sister is saved further mortification. You will marry her!"
Anthony is angry.
"Brother!"
"I cannot marry her," Simon says.
"You have defiled her innocence, and now you refuse her hand? I knew you were a rake, Hastings, I never thought you a villain."
"I cannot marry her," Simon states more firmly.
Daphne looks hurt.
"Then you leave me no choice. I must demand satisfaction."
"A duel? Anthony, you cannot--" Daphne begins.
"He dishonours you, sister." Anthony looks at her. "He dishonours you and me and the very Bridgerton name. I have misjudged you, indeed. You have duped us both, but I shall not see my sister pay for my own misdeeds. We will settle this as gentlemen."
"I understand," Simon agrees. "I shall see you at dawn."
"I do not understand," Daphne says softly. "You would rather die than marry me?"
You look at Simon quietly.
"I am truly sorry."
"We need to go, Daph. Before anyone should see us." Anthony says softly.
You reach out for her arm gently and pull her away, Anthony follows you both.
Daphne takes her brother's arm after he begs of you not to say a word about anything. You swear by it, looking him in the eye. Anthony thanks you.
You drift off from them as you enter the ballroom once again.
Anthony approaches Colin and tells him he is taking her home. He asks Colin to take care of their mother. You decide to step in and help. Anthony looks grateful.
Anthony and Daphne leave.
Colin looks at you, but you just smile softly at him and ask him to help you with Violet. He doesn't say anything about Daphne or Anthony.
Neither do you.
♡♡♡
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@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen -
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scarletttries · 9 months ago
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How The Straw Hats Keep You Company on the Night Shift... (One Piece Live Action Request)
Pairings: Luffy x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Nami x Reader, Usopp x Reader
Author's Note: I am well and truly in my One Piece obsession here so keep the requests coming! 🥰
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Monkey D. Luffy
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- While the rest of the crew moan and gripe when it's their turn to take the night shift, tasked with keeping the boat on course and an eye out for anything dangerous, you never seem to mind when your turn rolls around again. Instead of eight hours of monotonous boredom, your shift is always passed in the supervision of the ship's jovial captain, your sweet, loving Luffy.
- You always start by insisting he should get some sleep. Everyone has to take a watch on their own, you should too, right? But Monkey insists he'd be a terrible captain to leave you out on your own all night, the unspoken truth simmering just below the surface; he's forgotten how to fall asleep without his arms around you and can't bear waiting until morning to see you again.
- As you keep one hand on the ship's giant wooden wheel, Luffy captures the other, interlacing his fingers with yours as he moves behind you, the warmth emanating from his body keeping you safe and comfortable against the night air. His free hand wraps around your waist so he can pull your back flush against his chest, your needy boyfriend making the most of the private moment to express all his affection the way he knows best. Unwilling to let go of you for even a second, his nose nuzzles against your neck, shifting your hair to the side so he can pepper the exposed skin with gentle kisses, feeling you wriggle against him at the sensation and only spurring him on more.
- In a fit of giggles you momentarily release the wheel to capture his face with the hand he hasn't claimed yet, giving him the chance to spin you around to face him, drinking in the sight of your beauty lit only by the stars and the brightly shining moon.
"You know, you're somehow extra pretty up close." He whispers the words less than an inch from your lips, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath before the intensity in his eyes shifts and his lips crash down against yours. He has to pull away every few seconds just to let the smile you bring out of him blossom on his face before diving straight back in for the most addictive thing he's ever tasted.
- Every time you turn ever so slightly to get a hand back on the wheel, he only clings more, pressing closer to you, or grabbing the wheel himself so both your arms can be wrapped around him where they belong. You continue this carefully choreographed dance half the night, the two of you giggling as you twirl around each other and keep the ship on its course, completely intertwined until finally an exhausted Luffy starts to drift off, slumped against your back, clutching you like the life preserver you are in the vast ocean of his affections.
Zoro
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- It doesn't matter how long the two of you have been dating, or whatever you want to call the arrangement you and Zoro seem to have so effortlessly fallen into, Zoro will deny he's there to keep you company: He's just happens to be sharpening his swords at that hour, and it's too cramped to do it in his room. He couldn't sleep. He thought he heard something and he wants to make sure it's gone. Every week the excuses get thinner, but you still humour him for the sake of his good company.
- He always starts sitting on the other side of the deck. He likes to think he's completely in control of his emotions, and playing it very cool, despite his obvious inability to resist the magnetic effect you seem to have on him. As the moon charts its own path through the sky he inches closer and closer, responding to your nonchalant observations like it's a weighty task. Finally, about half way through your watch, he's sat with his back to the ship's wheel, leaning gently against your leg where you stand, still not acknowledging his actions, even as you let one hand drop by your waist and he reaches up instantly to hold it.
- He'll trace his thumb slowly over the back of your hand, taking his time before finally he looks up at you, seeming so much smaller than he does when he's charging into battle weidling his collection of swords. He'll bring your palm to his lips and then give you a gentle tug, pleading silently for you to sit with him for a moment, to escape everything else and just be two people in love without any of their history behind them.
- And so you do, sinking to the floor until your thigh presses against his, Zoro still clinging to your hand like a lost child in the vast night, but finding endless comfort in your presence. In the quietest moments like this he can finally be vulnerable, whispering his softer thoughts as you run your fingers through his hair, offering the warm embrace he's been searching his whole life without ever realising it was missing.
- When the first rays of morning light start to dance on the ocean's surface, he'll plant a soft kiss on your forehead and then slink back to his hammock, ready to pretend he didn't spend all night falling deeper and deeper in love.
Sanji
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- Sanji actively looks forward to the nights you have command of the ship, so he can finally have you all to himself and not have to worry about Luffy barging in on the two of you like he manages to every time Sanji gets his hands on you in the kitchen.
- Of course this man prepares a picnic for you, all your favourite cakes and pastries, lovingly made by his own adoring hands and tasting all the better for the amount of infatuation baked into them. He'll get to the deck an hour before you do, laying out a sea of blankets and cushions for the two of you to lounge on as you pass the night in each other's sweet company.
- Sanji is nothing if not open with his undying love for you, and it's more than a little fun to see just how dramatically this man will fawn over you. The way he gawps open-mouthed as you lick sweet frosting off the tip of a teaspoon while staring deeply into his eyes, watching his adam's apple bob as he gulps in anticipation, every ounce of self control holding his hands neatly by his side. Every happy hum and complement to his cooking only makes his heartbeat faster, the arm supporting his lounging frame scooting closer to you until he can almost rest his head on your shoulder.
- If there's one thing Sanji loves more than cooking for you, it's literally feeding you. He'll slowly raise a chocolate-covered strawberry to your lips, eyes growing wide as your lips graze his thumb when you take a bite, yours fluttering shut as you hum in appreciation. In an instant the rest of the berry is thrown haphazardly over his shoulder as he lunges towards you, bright smile across his face as he pushes you onto your back, his legs quickly straddling your hips to keep you pinned under him. He's practically trembling with excitement as his hands grab onto your waist, then run up your side until finally they capture your face, his lips crashing down on yours until he can taste your sweet kiss, mixed with chocolate and strawberry of course. Your back arches up to press against him, practically feeling his heart swelling in his chest as he squeezes you tighter, not sure he's ever going to be able let you go if you keep treating him quite so kindly.
- Every so often you have to pry him off of you to actually keep a little bit of a watch, but it doesn't take long until Sanji is scooping you up in his arms against, spinning you in circles, or pressing your back against the nearest surface until your legs wrap around his waist and your hands bury themselves in his blonde locks, surrendering yourself to his insatiable need for you. The morning can't come soon enough so Sanji can finally drag you back to his room and do exactly what you've had him dreaming of all night.
Nami
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- The sneakiest cat burglar in the business, Nami takes pleasure in making you jump when she appears behind you an hour into your night shift. No matter how often she comes to join you, you never hear her coming, the rush of your nervous heartbeat not slowing when she gives you that wicked grin.
"Did you miss me already?"
- Nami doesn't have the patience for watching the horizon with you, after spending most of her day manning the wheel as well, so she quickly finds other ways to entertain herself. She'll start by placing a constellation of glistening wet kisses along your shoulder, nipping and sucking more intently as she reaches your neck, waiting until your eyes flutter closed and a small sigh escapes your lips to pull away.
"Eyes open pirate, you don't want to steer us off course." Her smirk spells trouble and you can only gulp as she starts toying with the hem of your skirt, stepping in front of you before sinking slowly to her knees. She never breaks eye contact as she nuzzles her nose against the inside of your thigh, devilish grin spreading across her cheeks. "You better concentrate. If you get us lost our navigator will probably have to punish you."
- Her lips replace her nose as she starts licking and kissing higher up your thighs, watching your chest rise and fall and your breathing gets more laboured. Concentrating on anything other than the featherlight touch of her fingers climbing the soft flesh of your inner thigh becomes almost impossible, and as they reach the edge of panties you have to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan you're sure would wake the rest of the crew.
"Let's see how much fun I can have before the sun comes up." She purrs as her fingers brush over the thin fabric she's sure will be soaked through and thrown overboard in no time.
Usopp
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- This sweetheart is more than happy to spend a night in your company, feeling a little bit jealous whenever he has to share you with the rest of the crew, preferring to be the centre of your undivided attention.
- Usopp will start by putting on a one man show of some of 'his' greatest adventures, and acting out every single role in each of the tales. Every so often he'll start clamouring about the action of his great battles, and you'll have to interrupt him with a kiss just to make him stop talking, so you can remind him to keep his voice down so the rest of the crew can sleep. He'll quickly get distracted by the sweet, soft touch of your kiss, chasing that high again and again until he can't remember which story he was telling and he has to start over from the beginning.
- The minute he sees you fighting a yawn though, suddenly his action packed tale becomes much more soothing. He tells you gentle stories of a peaceful village life, the kind of life he hopes to have with you one day, when you've had all your adventures but you still can't bear to be apart from eachother. He stands facing you, running his fingers through your hair, drawing soft circles on your back, his voice gently drifting on the wind like a lullaby. He guides your head to land safely on his shoulder and holds your weight against his chest, until your eyes flutter shut and he can hear your breathing grow slow and shallow.
- With one hand holding you, the other will take the wheel, scanning the horizon with his whole world right in front of him. He always worries about you not getting enough rest, so he'll happily take your watch every chance he gets if it means he gets to feel you wrap your arms around him and melt against his chest, feeling safe in the company of your brave captain Usopp.
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blaisenova · 6 months ago
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ermmmm like i dunno if you're still doing requests buttt could you do like kustard but it turns to dustard
that dynamic always interested me but i never see much about it :3
anon, has anyone ever told you that you're a genius?
the kustard to dustard pipeline is WOEFULLY UNEXPLORED. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD. so, naturally, i was REALLY excited when i got this ask. yippie!!! an excuse to write fun fucked up dynamics!!!!!
this one is pretty tame. i can't think of any warnings you might need other than it being like..... long and, obviously, kinda angsty. it's fluffy in the end tho. but that's what you get when you ask me to write i guess LOL
thank you all for the requests btw!! i was NOT expecting so many after the kist fic, but i am pleasantly surprised and am trying to chip away at them as quickly as i can. spat this one out in a few hours, so it might not be my best work, but i'm happy with how it turned out either way :)
as always, the link to this fic on ao3 will be in the reblogs once it's posted, if that's your cup of tea (as it is mine LMAO)
i hope this feeds you well anon. thank you for the ask <3
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place.
Or, at least, that was what Red had wholeheartedly believed up until he’d met his other self, in a universe that was so very unlike his own. A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.
Initially, Red hated Sans. 
It felt ridiculous, looking back upon it – in the moments when his head lay in Sans’ lap and gentle fingers traced over his scars like they were poetry written in a language Red had never bothered to learn, and he wondered what Sans saw in him that he hadn’t seen; wondered if this was what it felt like to love himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d grown were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Sans wasn’t so much like hating himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.
Really, Sans was so unsuspecting that Red had been foolish enough to let his guard down, forgetting that then was when feeling was the most liable to appear. 
He hadn’t expected to fall in love with the laugh – genuine, unabashed, and lacking all of the gruffness of his own – of someone whose humour was just as terrible as his own.
He’d been far too blind to realise how incredibly endearing it was for someone to wake up and allow themselves to be bleary and half-asleep, cuddling into his arm without even meaning to, even if it meant opening themselves up to being easily picked off.
In allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would bleed him dry so tenderly and lovingly that he couldn’t even think to fight against the bloodloss; when, instead, he’d lean into the knife and ask them to twist it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.
Though, it was a small price to pay to hear that raucous laughter over jokes that weren’t even funny. Trivial, really, in comparison to soft smiles and gentle touches that moved slowly just to prove to him how tender the world could really be.
“Earth to Red.”
A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. For once, it was, just to be soft.
“Come in, Red.”
There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.
Tiredly, he bat away the hand that waved in front of his sockets, only to grab it by the wrist and pull it back down, firmly, on the crown of his skull. With a laugh, the fingers scratched gentle circles into the bone, and Red hummed happily at the feeling, allowing his sockets to slip shut as he lay against Sans’ legs.
“Where’d you go, space cadet?”
“Nowhere,” he grumbled, sighing softly as he fully relaxed into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”
Again, there was that laugh, and Red’s soul fluttered. “With your eyes open?”
“It’s a little known talent of mine,” he hummed.
“Gee, must be handy,” came the response, and amusement never sounded so beautiful. “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”
“Nuh uh,” and he couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “It’s genetic.”
“Ah, damn. Guess we gotta add that to the list of differences.”
“Guess so.” His breath hitched as the hand on his head trailed downward to cup his cheek. His browbones furrowed, ever so slightly, and he felt himself go tense.
“Hey. Look at me.”
After a moment, Red opened his sockets, and there was no sight more welcome than the face of his lover. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment: smooth bone, unmarred by chips and cracks; eyelights that glowed softly in dark sockets, like how he imagined fireflies might; ever present, gentle smile that smoothed away his worries. Oh, to be so untouched by cruelty. He’d do anything to keep it that way.
“‘Sup,” he breathed, and Sans’ smile widened as he snorted.
“‘Sup,” he returned. His thumb ran circles over his cheek, and Red leaned into the touch. “You okay?”
With a snicker, he rolled his eyelights at the question. “Super duper.”
Despite himself, Sans laughed too, but, still, pressed on. “You sure? You were spacing out pretty bad before. Like, way out in deep space,” he emphasised, unnecessarily. “No planets around, just stars. Way beyond our galaxy. Uncharted territory. Where no man has gone before.”
“Alright, alright, I get the picture” Red interrupted, though not without chuckling. “‘M okay. Was just thinking.”
When Sans’ head cocked to the side, Red couldn’t help but grin. “About?”
“Uranus.”
At first, his sockets simply narrowed, confused, then all at once, “Ura– Oh. Alright, perv. Har har.”
But, he was laughing, and Red was, too, like it was the funniest joke in the world despite it not even being funny. Maybe it didn’t matter, if Red was the one to say it; if Sans was the one to laugh. Maybe, then, it could be good, even if it wasn’t, really. The sound of their laughter, something shared and sacred, was what Red imagined it might feel like to hear the birds chirp when the sun rose and turned the sky whatever colours it was supposed to when it drove the night away. He hoped that it was blue, like Sans’ favourite colour, but the pictures in his textbooks were too faded to be sure.
When he tuned back in, the laughter had tapered off.
“You do that a lot, y’know,” Sans noted, almost absentmindedly, and his hands turned back to trailing shapes on Red’s skull.
He grunted at the feeling. “Do what?”
“Go to space,” Sans said, simply. “Or… somewhere else. That I can’t reach.”
Red frowned, closing his sockets to cut off the dull thrum of agony he felt in his soul whenever Sans’ smile didn’t reach his eyes like that. “I do it less than I used to. It used to be better, somewhere else – anywhere else – but ‘m not so sure anymore.”
“Where would you wanna go?” he asked, in a whisper. “If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”
For a moment, Red considered. The answer would have been easy before – the surface, of course. Where Paps and every other monster longed to be – but access to the multiverse had opened up options that he’d never known existed. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden, why should he want to look for it anywhere else?
“Think I’d rather just stay here,” he hummed. “With you.”
Maybe he should have questioned the way that Sans’ hands stilled at his answer. Maybe he should have opened his eyes; looked at his face; seen his expression; known what it meant.
But, he didn’t.
“Geez,” Sans breathed, with a laugh that sounded breathless. “My answer feels stupid in comparison.”
“Yeah? What’s yours?”
“Anywhere else. Anywhere at all.”
In hindsight, Red should have known it was too good to last; too good to stay good.
A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.
Of course, there was a catch. 
There was always a catch. Every childish fantasy grew tainted with time, like the innocence of children was stripped with age. Every fairy tale book grew weary and old, pages yellowed and frayed. Every picture faded, until you couldn’t be sure whether the sky was blue or grey.
But, you hoped it was blue anyway, and maybe that was your mistake.
It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place. That was what Red wholeheartedly believed. Maybe, after all, there was a reason that love and LOVE were spelled the same.
Try as he might, though, Red could not hate him.
It felt ridiculous – in the moments when hands clamped around his neck like a vice, choked by the grip and the grief that came with it, as if the two were one in the same, and they would both cry, both tremble in fear, or fury, or something worse, and Red would think that this was what it was like to hate himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d changed were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Dust wasn’t so much like loving himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.
Really, Red had underestimated Dust as he had been before; had assumed that kindness meant the incapacity for cruelty.
And, in allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would leave scars so deep that all he could think of was how much he missed the feeling; when he’d search for the knife and throw himself against it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.
Before, he’d thought it was a small price to pay. Trivial, really, in comparison to what he had to gain from it. As if it were a simple transaction as opposed to something living, and breathing, and ever changing; as if he would never have to be the one who was tender; as if that made it anything less valuable.
“Red.”
A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. Just as before, it was. Harsher now, but Dust had taught Red to be soft, and Red would teach him what he’d forgotten.
“Red.”
There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.
With a jolt, he came back to reality to a slap on the face, not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to be startling. He frowned, but, nonetheless, took his hand by the wrist and guided it to the crown of his skull. Hesitantly, as if spurred on by some muscle memory, the fingers ran in gentle circles across his bone, and Red hummed in approval at the feeling as he lay against Dust’s legs.
“Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere,” he mumbled, unconsciously leaning into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”
“With your eyes open,” Dust said, and it wasn’t a question. “Freak.”
Immediately, Red snorted. “Guess we gotta add that to the list of similarities.”
Despite himself, Dust laughed; the sound short, subdued, and nothing like the laugh he’d fallen in love with, but something about it made his soul flutter, nonetheless. “Guess so.”
After a moment, Red opened his sockets. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment – as they had before – smooth bone that crackled and buzzed with magic, refusing to be underestimated; eyelights that glowed brightly in dark sockets, like how he imagined neon signs would on a city street in the middle of the night; a face shrouded by shadow, as if it was saved for him alone to see. In the end, he’d been marred by cruelty despite Red’s best efforts, but he was beautiful nonetheless.
“‘Sup,” Dust mumbled, and the edges of his mouth quirked up in an attempt at a smile.
Slowly, Red lifted his hand and, ever so gently, cupped Dust’s cheek, pausing when his breath hitched, but, with the same caution, Dust leaned into the touch; barely enough to be noticed, but Red noticed. This time, he saw. “‘Sup,” he finally returned. “You okay?”
“You’re going to disappear,” Dust whispered, and his voice broke on the words in a way that made Red feel hollowed out. “You’re going to go somewhere else. Somewhere that I can’t reach. Like you do when you go to space. It scares me.”
Browbones furrowed, Red ran gentle circles across his love’s cheek, staying silent as Dust took in a shuddering breath to continue; a quirk Red had grown accustomed to.
“I remember what you told me before,” he said, and his hand came up to desperately hold Red’s to his face, like he might forget it was there if he didn’t make sure. “That you did it because it was better to be somewhere else – anywhere else. Do you want that now? To be somewhere else? Away from me?”
“No,” Red said, and the lack of hesitation in his answer surprised even himself. “I don’t want that.”
Again, Dust’s breath hitched, and he frowned, like the answer wasn’t enough, and, maybe, it wasn’t. His fingers threaded between Red’s, and, when he clutched onto his hand, Red squeezed back, holding him with desperation to match. Dust laughed, a breathless sound. “I’m not the person that you loved.”
Scoffing, Red rolled his eyelights at the notion. “Of course you are.”
“I’m not,” Dust insisted, and something about it was a plea.
“Then,” he breathed, “I love you. This you.”
And, with a breath that was cut off with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Dust leaned forward – over Red’s body, as if to trap him – and pressed his chest against Red’s. His ribs fluttered with each breath, and Red guided his stuttering breaths with deep inhales that interlocked their ribs with each one. His hand remained stuck to Dust’s cheek, and he squeezed gently, relieved when Dust squeezed back to let him know he was still here; in this reality, not another.
“Breathe,” Red commanded, soft; soft, like he’d been taught. “I’m here.”
Dust took a heaving breath – deep, frantic, like he’d been drowning – and, in a voice that sounded so much like before – reminding Red once more that this was the person he loved, despite the change – he whispered, “Where would you wanna go? If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”
The question made him sputter, for a moment. Then, with a breathless laugh, “Seriously?”
“Please,” he pleaded, so what could Red do but answer?
The answer would have been easy before – here; here, just like before – but, despite how they fought against it, things had changed. Did that mean his answer had to change? That his longing had to shift, too? The multiverse was infinite. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Maybe even somewhere that Sans stayed Sans, but would it be the same? Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden – had been ripped from Dust’s grasp with the signature ruthlessness of the multiverse – then why shouldn’t Red be it? Like Dust had been for him, before.
“Think I’d like to stay here,” he hummed. “With you. Still.”
And, this time, Red noticed the way that Dust’s breathing slowed to a stop; felt the way that his magic crackled between his joints; how something wet slipped between their fingers on Dust’s cheek; knew what it meant.
“Okay,” Dust whispered.
“What about you? Where would you go?”
There was a pause – a moment as Dust inhaled once more; held Red’s hand tight, but oh, so gentle – before he managed to answer. “Here,” he said. “With you.”
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luckhound · 9 days ago
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gintoki + relationship headcanons.
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↻ pairing ✦ gintoki/gender neutral reader
↻ request ✦ I read your rules and stuff, and I hope I read it right gsusvjddn can I request some relationship headcanons for Gintoki? I can't watch the final movie for Gintama yet and I am devastateD —anonymous
↻ warnings ✦ mild suggestive content, blink and you'll miss it; terrible attempt at humour
author's note: this is several years late but i Just started a rewatch and was reminded of my love for this story and its characters. so uh, better late than never?
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First of all, you deserve a medal for perseverance. You managed to do the impossible by entering into a relationship with this man, who dodges romantic entanglements without even trying to despite the many possible love interests in the source material
Now you have to deal with a cheapskate who doesn't have a single romantic bone in his body. Congrats!
Don't expect to be taken out on a date any time soon; his idea of a good time is to recline on the couch and read Jump. Unfortunately, that doesn't change even when he has a partner who he could be spending his free time with
When the two of you do go out, maybe sit down somewhere for a bite to eat, Gintoki expects you to pay. What? He should foot the bill? With what money? Any cash that so much as brushes his hands is snatched up by the old hag (Otose), or gobbled up by the brat with the bottomless stomach (Kagura), or swallowed up by the pachinko machines that the idiot hits up (Gintoki)
Rarely do you have privacy. At any given time, a revolving door of characters will intrude upon your finite alone time with Gintoki; if it isn't the rare client asking for help, it's one of his friends annoyances (or so he calls them) stumbling into you two, or some two-bit villain hatching the latest evil plan that's plaguing Edo this week
Then there's Shinpachi and Kagura, who stick to the man like gum on a shoe. Sure, you do adore them, but babysitting two kids while trying to spend quality time with Gintoki can get old—you're dating a penniless samurai, not a struggling single dad!
Don't bother expecting him to get jealous or possessive; if someone were to flirt with you in front of him, it'd go right over his head
You would have to spell it out for him after the fact, and even then he'd stare at you with those dead fish eyes, wondering what you wanted him to do about it
Wait a second, you must be thinking. All of these bullet points so far have only listed the cons of dating this bastard! Where's the good stuff? What are the pros?
There aren't any, sorry to say. You're better off dumping him like yesterday's garbage and moving on to someone worth your time
Which is probably what Gintoki would say, if forced at gunpoint to answer truthfully; he has no clue why you tied your fate to him of all people
You, on the other hand, might reply with:
He's constantly finding excuses to touch you. His head in your lap while he reads Jump on the couch, his ankle brushing yours under the table when dining out, his arm tossed around your shoulders as you walk
As much as he loudly complains and huffs and rolls his eyes, he doesn't stop you when you steal food from his plate. He'll even let you swipe some of his parfait, despite threatening to make you pay for another. It'd be easy for him to slap your hand away, but he never does
Romantic he may not be, but you know just how much he wants you by the way he can't keep his hands off you when the mood hits; his every touch elicits shivers, his mouth never strays far from yours for long, his gaze dark and intent on you
There is no one more doggedly loyal than Gintoki. No one who cares more about your wellbeing and happiness. No one else who would put you first when it matters, protect you from anything or anyone that may try to harm you
For those reasons and more, you'll deal with the many downsides that come with dating Sakata Gintoki. Not always happily, mind you, but you'll do it anyway
("Why do they even put up with him?" Shinpachi wonders aloud, watching the two of you bicker for the fifth time that day. "Stockholm syndrome," is Kagura's immediate answer.)
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struggling-with-drivers · 10 months ago
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This is pure brainrot
Been having a lot of thoughts lately, since I can't seem to finish and actual fic, have this idea of some wish au or time travel au or whatever.
Au where Charles got granted a wish to change one thing in his past.
Max is on his knee in front of him, and Charles can't take it anymore.
"Charles will you marr-"
"I did something bad." Charles rushes out, tears already prickling.
"What?"
"Max I did something terrible." Charles repeats himself. "Something horrible."
Max's face twists as he looks up at Charles, a sight that usually would bring him nothing but pleasure, but now it rushes him with guilt.
"Charles. What did you do?" Max is slowly closing the ring box. A loud snap accompanying the motion.
"I- you- we- I'm sorry." Charles breathes out, "I'm so sorry, I had to do it, and you need to know."
Max is getting up from the ground the box clutched in his hand as a look of disappointment washes over his face, maybe even anger with the way his face is turning red.
"Charles, what. Did. You. Do." Max is punctuating each word.
"You were a world champion."
"What?" Max nearly laughs, "what excuse is that?! Charles did you sleep with someone else?!"
"Wha- no, no!" He screeches, "you were a 3 times world champion on your way to your 4th, and I just, Max. Max I made a mistake."
"What do you mean world champion?"
"I got a chance, I didn't think it was real, I was drunk and this guy showed up, and talked about if I could change one thing, and I told him, and I don't know, then everything changed, and chèri I'm so sorry."
"I'll humour you, what did you wish for?"
"Remember when we were 6, the 2nd time we met, I saw your dad hit you over the head. I wished I had told my dad instead of staying silent."
"What do you mean? But you did say something, your parents helped my mom and-"
"No Max, I didn't..." Charles watches as Max's face scrunches, an urge to puke forms in Charles.
"You didn't." Max's voice cracks as he seems to look like a train hit him, a lifetime of memories that aren't his floods his mind.
Max went to live with him mum, the Leclerc's helped them, and Max didn't, he was never left a gas station, he never kept karting, he went to school and was good, he got into university, he kissed Charles. He... Won. A lot Max won a lot and fought with Charles, and called him horrible words, and Charles hated him, and Max kept winning, Max drove fast cars, Charles by his side. Max won 3 championship, nearly a 4th as well. Max didn't go to university for a degree. Max was a formula 1 championship and Charles took it all away from him.
-
Charles had watched Max get hit by his dad when he was 6 and said nothing about it.
During a night out after a race, a club he shouldn't be in considering that he got 9th in a fucking Ferrari, and yet he was. Unable to forget the stiffness of Max's shoulders as Jos didn't even congratulate his son for the win.
When black hair flooded his vision asking questions about his life, his regrets, what he would change, and Charles must have been drunker than he thought.
Because out of everything he regrets, he told the stranger, "I regret staying silent."
And Charles never said about what or when or how, but then he had blacked out. He didn't even remember leaving the bar, but a pair of arms was around his waist, and then he had been shocked when he recognised those hands, and then a gruff voice had asked him why he was awake so early, and Charles...
Charles had let himself fall back asleep, all too content with pretending everything was normal, with how Max looked at him. Max looked so happy whenever he looked at Charles, and Charles just couldn't take anything else away.
So he stayed, and pretended to be the Charles this Max knew, the one who works as a model, the one who listens to Max talk about V8 engines that he's working on for Audi.
Charles hoped that it had all just been a far too vivid dream that had stuck around in the back of his head, muddling his memories, but he knew. He knew what he had done, and he just couldn't take the lightness away from Max again.
Not when he smiles so brightly, not when he looks so relaxed, not when he looks at Charles in the way Charles had wanted for more years than he had ever been able to process.
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rebouks · 2 years ago
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Previous | Next
Transcript:
Oscar: You can have a drink if you-… Courtney: It’s already hard enough, isn’t it? Oscar: That’s what she said.
Courtney: [snickers] I bet-.. I’m serious though, are you good? Oscar: Watching everyone make the most of an open bar n’ get wasted is super fun, of course; but I’m doing okay. Courtney: We could always-…
Oscar: What kinda wedding do you want-.. still fancy eloping in a forest somewhere? Courtney: I don’t know. After everything we’ve been through, maybe it’d be nice to celebrate together.. y’know? Besides, you haven’t even asked me properly yet!
Oscar: [gasps] Asking whilst drunk n’ puking my guts up doesn’t count?! Courtney: I was only fucking with you, but when you say it like that… Oscar: Well, I can’t exactly ask you here.
Courtney: Why not? Oscar: You know I live for your impulsiveness, but you can’t propose at someone else’s wedding without asking them. Courtney: So, let’s go somewhere else.
Oscar: I’m scared I’m gonna rip these pants. Courtney: That’d be terrible. Oscar: Hah-.. oof, okay.
[Courtney snorts, devolving into a fit of laughter] Oscar: Excuse me-… Courtney: Sorry, sorry! I didn’t expect you to actually get down on one knee.
Oscar: Psh.. you know I don’t have a ring, right? Courtney: I don’t want one. Oscar: I don’t have a plan either…
Courtney: [grins] Duh, spontaneity is our thing.
Oscar: I think your reckless abandon is one of my favourite things about you-.. your sense of humour, your creativity, messiness, positivity, obsession with complicated plant names; it’s all perfect. I’m amazed that you ever gave me the time of day. It meant everything to me back then, that you saw through my bullshit-.. it still does, and I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for the way things turned out, but I’d like to spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you-.. making sure you’re happy.
Courtney: Awh.. you’re gonna make me cry. Oscar: Not doing so hot on the happy front so far, huh?
Courtney: [laughs thickly] I’m good, carry on. Oscar: You’ve felt like home to me from the moment I laid eyes on you, Cookie; I genuinely can’t imagine not marrying you… So, will you marry me?
Courtney: No. Oscar: [cackles] No?! For fuck’s sake! Courtney: I just wanted you to get all gooey-.. and rip your pants.
Oscar: Shame they’re still intact. Courtney: Mmh, I want another baby. Oscar: You’ve gotta say yes first.
Courtney: In what reality would I say no? Oscar: Aha, true.. but we definitely can’t make one here. Courtney: We definitely could.
[Oscar ponders for less than a millisecond before dropping Courtney from his knee, catching her by the small of her back] Courtney: Wh-.. ah! Oscar: [chuckles] You better keep it down.
Courtney: Pfft, no one’s gonna come round here. Oscar: No? Courtney: [giggles] Well…
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suitov · 7 months ago
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Makoto: Thank gods you were there. I wouldn't have known what to do.
Izuru: Your first two suggestions were sensible, if poorly organised.
Makoto: They were? I don't... remember what I said. I was so panicked.
Izuru: You said "Oh no, Junko! Check her pulse! Get help!"
Makoto: Oh, haha.
Makoto:
Makoto: Is... my voice really that high?
Izuru: I am an Ultimate Voice Actor, Mimic, Impostor, Actor--
Makoto: Sorry, sorry, I wasn't questioning your powers.
Izuru: I was not offended.
Makoto:
Makoto: She's... she's really heavy, huh...
Izuru: I can carry her on my own.
Makoto: But I want to help! It's all my fault!
Izuru: In a sense. Your ill luck was involved.
Makoto: Normally I just get some cut or scrape or the bus drives past me or... I've never... seen someone else get hurt...
Izuru: I will carry her. Dry your eyes.
Makoto, blowing nose: Phhhsssbbbpt... sorry... but I'm glad you were there. I knew you'd know what to do. Things're less scary with you around.
Izuru: I am actually very scary and also evil.
Makoto:
Makoto: Yyyyeah.
Makoto: But, even i... even though that's true, if you're with us, then the scary person is on our side! So that's less scary in itself.
Izuru: I see. Mentally assigning me to your in-group permits you to overlook my overwhelming threat level because, to your mind, that threat is directed outward. In this way, pack mentality adds to your false sense of security. Perhaps this is how all real people cope with my presence.
Makoto: You're real people, Izuru.
Izuru:
Junko: Oh my GOD will you just KISS already I've been faking unconsciousness for TWELVE MINUTES!!
Makoto: Junko! Are you okay?!
Izuru: Yes, she has been fine this entire time.
Makoto:
Izuru: She was pretending.
Makoto: A...and you knew?
Izuru: I did not wish to spoil the funny prank.
Makoto: That's not a funny prank!
Junko: Excuse the fuck out of me your face is hilarious this was the best prank.
Makoto: I was afraid you were brain damaged and dead!!
Izuru: She is not dead.
Junko: Listen, if you're so excitable you didn't realise the thing missed me by inches, that's not my fault.
Izuru: The prank is concluded now, yes?
Junko: Since you dense dodos wouldn't frigging make out, yeah.
Izuru: Then I shall put you down.
Junko: I didn't say you could put me down.
Makoto: You both have terrible senses of humour.
Junko: Don't be bitter just cos you didn't think of making him carry you too.
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dawndelion-winery · 2 years ago
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It's For My Research!
Dottore × GN! Reader
There are things only science can make Dottore do, and it seems dating was one of them
Hi yes I live, I'm vv sorry about the long hiatus, I've been v busy and still am but hopefully I can get back into writing more frequently again. Tysm to everyone for sticking around
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You're fairly certain you've tried everything; every trick in the book, and still your very attractive friend - used very loosely - didn't seem to take notice of you. Any scrap of attention he threw your way was solely for progress in his work, and if you approached him first? He'd only entertain as far as your academic related request required - anything like small talk was quickly shut down, both by his dry responses and intimidating demeanor.
"Zandik, I need your help with a personal experiment. There's no one else who can help."
He halted his work momentarily, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, evidently intrigued at your request. However, he made no move to give you his full attention, slowly resuming his activities, albeit a little slower, since he was dividing his attention for you.
"And what, pray tell, would this experiment of yours entail?" His deep voice flowed like a stream, almost washing your mind to a blank before you snapped out of it. You suspected such would be the case, with his mere presence turning your legs into goo as you struggled to maintain your posture. You stood on the other side of his workbench and slid a few papers over - documents covering the effects of companionship and sentimental attachment on rationality. His gleaming red eyes flickered between the papers and you, and he finally scoffed as he set them down, keeping his gaze lowered. Well, it wasn't like you expected to be successful given how he avoided you.
You muttered an apology and were about to turn on your heel when he raised his head with a dastardly cocky, heart-stopping grin, enchanting scarlet eyes rooting you to the spot.
"You would have me fill the role of your companion for this paper?" Zandik mused. He leaned forward, both palms flat on the workbench as his face inched closer to yours. "Or is it simply an excuse for you to be near me?"
His forehead was almost pressed against yours, a stray lock of his hair falling in front of your eyes like how his breath fell on your lips with his soft whisper.
"I-I really do need to write a report, Zandik." You were embarrassed by how shaky your voice was, betraying the effect he had on you as though he wasn't already well aware of it.
"On this topic specifically? My dear, if you're going to try manipulate me, don't make it so blatantly obvious what you truly want." With his height, he easily made long strides around the workbench, backing you against it to tease you further. He took ahold of your face with his gloved hand, lightly squeezing your cheeks so that your mouth parted slightly as he ran his thumb over your lower lip. "No matter...I'll humour you this time. I am so terribly curious as to how far you'll push your luck with me, so do try your best to entertain...for if you do, I just might throw you a bone and...indulge you further."
You screwed your eyes shut the closer his face got to yours, nervously anticipating his lips meeting yours. Naturally, you were left embarrassed once again when you felt his warmth grow distant and found him back at work, chuckling at how easily you turned to putty at his gestures.
Oh what a bastard he was. And how that bastard did make your heart run laps.
~
As a responsible scholar, you made sure to keep a daily record of your time with Zandik, noting every observation and thought you deemed important and relevant. All of this, of course, Zandik watched in amusement, still in disbelief you'd actually commit to the act.
And true to his word, he did indulge you every so often since you kept him entertained. From a casual arm around your shoulder to the spontaneous kisses to your palm, it seemed his idea of "rewarding" you was to fluster you.
~
A few months in and you'd expected the novelty of it to die down for Zandik. Yet it seemed he wasn't entirely opposed to sticking around until you let him go.
"My dear," he began. "Exactly how long does it take for you to obtain sufficient data for this?"
And there it was. You hesitated to answer, your mind racing for anything that might be a satisfactory reason for him.
"No need to answer. As thorough as you're trying to be, it's only natural you're nowhere near as competent as myself. I completely understand if you insist on clinging to me with what little you have."
He was just downright offensive. Word wise, at least. There was something less distant about his tone. Now that you had finally stopped swooning at the sound of his voice, you were able to develop some familiarity with his various intonations and subtle tells.
You laughed it off, knowing how much of an ass he could be. "Whatever you say, my darling." Feeling bold, you straightened your notes and planted a quick peck on his cheek before rushing off to submit them.
Zandik's eyes widened. And then his face fell into its usual self satisfied smirk as his eyes followed your retreating figure.
"To think that your silly hypothesis would apply to me as well...my dearest."
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Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @missesclaus @cxlrosii @miss-fantazmagoria @astrequa @kokomist @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @ash-astrophel @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof
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out-there-tmblr · 8 months ago
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Snippet of the current 3zun wip
A modern 3zun story, starting with established nieyao:
***
When he started seeing Mingjue, he didn't expect to become friends with his brother. In a lot of ways, meeting Nie Huaisang explained a lot of things about Mingjue: his overprotective streak, his willingness to help, his comfortable resignation to being manipulated into going to galleries or plays he has no interest in. His love for NIe Huaisang set a lot of behaviour patterns that honestly work out well for Meng Yao. Sometimes, it's very nice to be able to pout up at his boyfriend and look through his lashes, and do exactly what Meng Yao wants to do. Does not abuse that power as obviously as Nie Huaisang but there are definitely times when he's weaselled his way out of cooking that night on the excuse of having such a terribly long day, and then relaxed in the bath while Mingjue cooks.)
Nie Huaisang has become one of the few people Meng Yao will call simply to complain about something. He calls to complain about the humiliation of finding Mingjue's ex hot but Nie Huaisang groans before he even finishes his sentence. "Eurgh, Xichen-ge is staying with you? He's lovely, he is, but around my brother they both revert into jocks. Have they dragged you to the basketball court yet?"
"This morning." Mingjue had asked him to play but he begged off, sitting in the shade with his phone. Lan Xichen must have been expecting it because he'd packed blue basketball shorts that fluttered against his thighs when he bounced up to his toes to make a throw. 
Meng Yao has always appreciated how good Mingjue looks in a sleeveless basketball jersey, how clearly it shows the muscles in his arms and shoulders when he plays. But, oh, it is a lot watching two very well-built guys run and laugh, jostling and elbowing each other for the ball. (It's enough to make Meng Yao wonder if he should be watching professional sports.) They play by haphazard rules. At one point, Lan Xichen jumped on Mingjue's back to grab the ball and throw it through the hoop. 
By the time they call a time-out for water, they're both sweating, gleaming in the sunshine and Meng Yao is very, very grateful that he's wearing dark sunglasses as Lan Xichen pours water down the back of his neck, shaking it off like a golden retriever.
"Did you remember sunscreen?" Mingjue asks when he wanders over to check on Meng Yao, pulling his jersey up to wipe at his face and revealing a solid torso of muscle. He drops the shirt and gives Meng Yao an amused smirk. "You look like you've caught a bit of the sun."
Meng Yao glares at him over the edge of his sunglasses. His boyfriend is the worst. Honestly, he doesn't know why he puts up with him. Being railed through the mattress is not enough to make up for it. (It could be the way he gets Meng Yao's sense of humour. Or the way he stares when Meng Yao steps out of the shower, like Meng Yao is the hottest thing he's ever seen. Or how last time Meng Yao was sick, he cooked soup from Meng Yao's mother's recipe.) "You know you're a terrible person, right?"
Mingjue just laughs, dimples and all, and then calls over his shoulder, "Xichen, ready to go again?"
***
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distressednoise · 8 months ago
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WIP Wednesday
Sometimes @notasapleasure lets me ramble at her about my terrible AU idea where Syril and Cassian are rival hockey goalies who despise each other, because she is too indulgent for her own good. And while part of me does sincerely mean to write this (because doing an AU of your old fandom in your new fandom is a proud tradition), I'm also not going to be able to for months, so I'm just going to put some porny Brassian chatfic under a cut and pretend it's a WIP Wednesday post, and you're all going to humour me that I will one day finish it.
For context:
Cassian has spent years slogging away in the minor leagues, where he can't admit to being injured because he's already too small, the doctors are terrible, the drugs are worse and Syril fucking Karn is always looking to chase him out of the lineup.
And now he's arrived in the promised land, where physio Brasso is advancing toward him with some designer drugs and perfect arms, ready to make all Cassian's nagging aches go away, at least temporarily. 
And there are just so many excuses for Brasso to touch him. Cassian learns to reach for them easily: Hi Brasso shoulder's not great. Hi Brasso feeling real tight, could you -? Brasso my leg's cramping again. Brasso Brasso Brasso.
At some point he decides he should probably return the favour.
Very carefully taking Brasso's hand in his and working it over. Focused so much on getting it right and not messing up Brasso's beautiful hands that he briefly forgets about Brasso's beautiful face, but when he looks up Brasso is staring at him with the kind of possessive, hungry expression that Cassian has wanted from him all season.
One of those hands comes up, catching on a crease in Cassian's expression, smooths it out. "It's ok," he says. "You can just ask."
Cassian can't "just ask". Cassian has "just asked" for things over and over again, and his entire career has been built on being clever enough to know what to do when "just asking" gets you a flat no. But this is Brasso.
He's not brave enough to do it straight. It's too much. He splits the difference and says "Anything else I can help you with?", leery, easily joking if it needs to be, ready to give brasso a just-buddies shoulder smack and laugh it off. But Brasso's reels him I'm by a fistful of shirt and doesn't stop until Cassian's straddling his lap, newly-loose hips stretched wide by Brasso's thighs. Their faces are so close. Cassian wonders if this is going to be a kissing hook up. Then Brasso lifts one leg a little, shuffles and bumps them closer, and Cassian thinks fuck it and makes it one. He asked. He's asking. Brasso makes an approving sound and opens up, lets Cassian lick into his mouth and scrape along his jaw
The NHL isn't the easiest environment to pick up guys in and Cassian told himself he wasn't missing it, but now that it's happening again, he's greedy for it. He wants all of Brasso all at once, wants to keep kissing him and suck him and stay grinding down on the growing ridge of his dick all at the same time. His hands have found skin. He can't open his eyes. He doesn't want to keep them closed. He's stuck there, skittery with indecision, until Brasso goes for his belt, which is wrong enough for him to say "No no no, you're not meant -" 
Brasso stops, unwraps his arm from behind Cassian. Holds them up in surrender. 
"I worked hard on these," Cassian says, taking him by the wrists. "You can't go and, and -" Cassian didn’t really think he'd ever want Brasso not to touch him, but this is - . He knows what he's doing. He needs Brasso to know that he knows. He presses Brasso's hands back to the wall. "Keep them there, OK?" 
Brasso smiles in a quiet, private way, but he doesn't laugh, and when Cassian lets go he doesn't move his arms.
As soon as Cassian leans back up and finds he has to rebalance, he's aware he's not made the best decision, but when has he ever? He reaches back for Brasso's thigh, and by silent agreement they manage to get one of Brasso's feet braced against a desk so he can lift his legs and simultaneously keep Cassian's weight forward and bring them close enough together for Cassian to get their trousers open, get his hand on Brasso's cock so he can feel the weight and the heat of it, thumb over the slit where it's wet and red and let himself think yeah, he's missed this a lot.
He's acutely aware that they're in medical and that there are beds and lube and all sorts of things around that would make this easier, that brasso would let him make this easier, gladly, but anything that involves breaking the bubble they're built between them feels dangerous. If he gets down he'll never get back up. If he turns away there's a chance Brasso will realise this is a mistake. He has one hand on the back of Brasso's neck, tight, and it won't let him let go. 
He's got just enough room to get his cock out, to line them up. He's trying to think of the least off-putting way to spit in his hand this close up to someone when Brasso says, "Hey, hey," and Cassian thinks this is it, the realisation, the suggestion that they awkwardly scuttle across the room to find something to make this more dignified and accidentally turn into colleagues again in the process. But then Brasso says "give it here," nodding at Cassian's hand, and when Cassian brings it up to his mouth it turns out Brasso is on the same page as him, wants to get him wet but not enough to move. Cassian feels the hot wet scrape of Brasso's tongue on his palm and thinks yeah, this is going to be fine.
He gets stuck for a moment on his hand over Brasso's mouth, on the drag of Brasso's stubble against it, on the fact that if he wants to hook a thumb behind Brasso's teeth and tug his head down he can, Brasso will just go with him. He reaches down with one hand to start working them in earnest and moves the other from the back of Brasso's neck to the hinge of jaw, fish hooks him, keeps tugging. Brasso's face is red and smeared with spit and Cassian is making it worse and Brasso is moaning and licking at the thumb hooked is his mouth, is trying to turn more into Cassian's hand. Cassian messes up everything and Brasso is happy to be messed up and when they are done he will put his hands on Cassian so carefully, Cassian can almost feel it already.
He keeps working, finds a level of pressure that makes Brasso curse and sticks to it, spits more, buries his face in Brasso's shoulder so he doesn't have to see Brasso's reaction to that and then regrets it when Brasso makes a low, guttural noise. When Cassian looks up he's got that expression again, the good one, the one that says he's seen through to some part of Cassian no-one else has managed to and wants to sink his teeth into it.
Cassian kisses him again, sloppier than last time, lets Brasso nudge his head back and worry at his neck even though it makes them lurch sideways precariously. He tries to get back to kissing after that, but Brasso pants, "I want to see, let me see," and wedges his head against Cassian's chest so he has a full view of where Cassian is jerking them both off. Cassian can see his hands hovering off the wall, can see Brasso pressing them back because he asked. He doubles down and Brasso swears loudly, sinks his teeth into Cassian's shoulder through his shirt.
"Proud of yourself for that?" Brasso manages after a second and Cassian is, yes. He’s enjoying the way that Brasso's shaking, and close enough that he can nip at Brasso’s ear and say "very," then spit again while Brasso is looking and keep going. Brasso looks like Cassian used to feel, like he can't decide whether he wants to look at Cassian's face or his dick or keep burrowing into his shirt. He settles on his face, surges up to bite at his jaw. No-one ever looks at Cassian and Cassian never blinks at anything but Brasso's teeth are on him and Cassian closes his eyes and comes.
Brasso's hands on him are as careful as he expected, pulling him forward and tugging up his shirt so he can rock himself over the edge against the taut plane of Cassian's stomach. Cassian thinks briefly about how far it is to the car, who might be here. Who might notice if he left here covered in Brasso, whether Brasso would follow him home and add to it. Whether he'd get to drive along with Brasso's hand pressed up under the edge of his shirt, scratching at this mess they've made together.
So when Brasso vanishes for a minute and reappears with a length of medicals ubiquitous blue paper, Cassian thinks fuck it, and asks.
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aziraphales-library · 1 year ago
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Hello dear mods! I was wondering if you have some human aus in which Crowley doesn't feel attraction towards Aziraphale at first sight. Like, no going braincel-less mode as soon as he meets him. More of a slowburn from Crowley's side I suppose. For as much I like those sorts of fics sometimes, I wish there were more like what I'm describing. Or what tag, besides slowburn, should I look up?
Thanks!
Hi! Tags I would suggest on AO3 are Demisexual Crowley, as well as Pining Aziraphale (probably while also excluding Pining Crowley). Here are some more slow burn fics in which Crowley doesn't fall instantly for Aziraphale...
The Angel and The Holy Thorn by Z A Dusk (G)
Aziraphale has been in Glastonbury for five years but finds himself wondering if he’ll ever find what he’s searching for. Or even figure out what he’s searching for.
His neighbour Anthony has been in Glastonbury for six months and is about to open his new venture - The Holy Thorn restaurant. He loves the town but is having trouble finding his way.
When both men have a frustrating Christmas Eve, a chance collision leads to new connections. Perhaps this will be a happy new year after all?
To be Your Prince by Phoenix_Soar (T)
It was their shared dream to stand together on the Olympic podium, as figure skaters, rivals, best friends. But a twist of fate has Aziraphale and Crowley pursuing different paths, the former as a Singles skater and the other an Ice Dancer.
It wouldn’t be so terrible, Aziraphale thinks, if he didn’t have to watch Crowley skate with someone else day after day. Someone that isn’t him, and to know he’ll never get to be with Crowley like that, in front of the whole world.
(Figure skating AU)
Pieces Of My Heart by NaroMoreau (E)
From that reddit: Straight guy worries he’s being homophobic to gay roommate, realizes he’s fallen in love with him.
Or: It turns out I don't have any problems with Aziraphale kissing guys, says Crowley, if it's me he's kissing.
Of Size and other Matters by LCwrites (E)
When Crowley gets a random text from an unknown number, he thinks it must be a joke at first. Turns out it's by a rather amusing stranger who might have an interesting matter at hand.
Aziraphale just wants to get an upcoming function over with and not have people trying to set him up with anyone. At least whoever accidentally received his message seems to take the mishap with humour.
Going Overboard by Fyre (T)
When you do a job, you expect to get paid. What you don't expect is for things to go overboard.
You're Just a Little Under Rehearsed by MickyRC (T)
Drama teacher Crowley loves directing the Tadfield Community Players' shows—interacting with the rest of the staff at the community center, not so much. So when he meets the new accompanist for this year's musical, he's shocked to find that he might actually like him. Possibly more than like, if he's being honest.
Aziraphale is fresh from leaving a long career as a church pianist, and hoping that a new job will get him out of the lonely rut he's found himself in. The attention and kindness of the flashy community theater director are unexpected, but not unwelcome. Far from it.
But with a community theater to run, a show to put on, and a disgruntled R.P. Tyler looking for any excuse to get rid of Crowley and his theater program, will they be able to make a relationship work? And, more importantly, can they make sure the show still goes on?
- Mod D
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wolfpants · 1 year ago
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Hey! I'm curious, pls indulge me: which book or fic that you've read in 2023 has made the most impression and why? x
Hi friend 💐
Okay, I have something rather embarrassing to admit: I have been terrible at reading this year.
I don't know what it is. I keep telling myself it's because I have so many writing projects on the go, one after the other (I'm just about to embark on another big one), but that never really stopped me reading in the past, so, I'm not sure this is a viable excuse.
My attention span is really bad at the moment. That's another thing. I've started books, wonderful books (In Memoriam, A Marvellous Light), but somehow I've got distracted along the way and when that happens, I find it really difficult to pick things back up again, no matter how wonderfully they had me in their grasp before I did the Bad Thing of dropping them for something else.
I hear all the time that as a writer I should read, read, read, and never stop reading, and part of me wonders if that lack of reading has reflected in some of the roadblocks in my own writing process. I'm not sure. According to ao3 I've written 163k words this year so far, and that's not counting any fest work that's yet to be revealed or WIPs in my folders, but I have to say, even though that's a lot of words, not every one has flowed from me easily. I've been constantly asking myself this year if I'm finally starting to run out of ideas (this is probably my biggest fear!), if I'm as mediocre as I tell myself I am when I'm at my lowest/most annoying 😅
I can think of one fic that really stopped me in my tracks this year, though.
@sweet-s0rr0w's entry for Dronarryfest, Silhouttes. Sweet really has this way of writing that draws a reader in from the first line and keeps you in the work's grasp until the very last word. It's an exploration of grief and loneliness and sharing and caretaking, and it also includes one of the most beautiful portraits of the Burrow I've ever read. It also features a Ron I love very much: blunt, gruff, confrontational, possessive, but ultimately loyal and kind and caring. Sweet is also great at incorporating dark British humour and subtle references that make me feel really at home whenever I'm reading her works. So this fic has become a little bit of a comfort read for me, in a sea of me feeling confused and lost over not being able to focus and feeling a bit disconnected from a number of things.
Anyway, this turned out way longer and more navel-gazy than I ever wanted it to turn out, so... I'm very sorry about that! x
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0rb0t · 3 days ago
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GOD I MISS THE TONE OF THE HELLUVA BOSS PILOT
my BIGGEST complaint about Helluva Boss is that SOMEHOW the show about BEING IN HELL, being a jackass is the worst thing you can do. LIKE. THE UNIVERSE IS LITERALLY GOING "BEING IN HELL IS NO EXCUSE" WHAT DO YOU MEANNN
Why am I supposed to feel sorry for Stolas? HE IS A PRIVILEGED DIPSHIT, AND THAT'S OKAY! But noooo, definitely Blitzo, of one of the LOWEST tier of hellborn, is somehow the WORST BEING EVER and he hurt this POOOOOR PRINCE like. WHY
I was WAY MORE INTO IT when it was a complex and messed up love story coming out of one that was tied up in deals, dubious consent, and class clash.
BUT IT WAS JUST. COMPLETELY THROWN OUT! WHY???? Why is Stolas being such a sentimental softy IN HELL not being PLAYED FOR LAUGHS???
Why is Verosika just ACTUALLY not a huge bitch, instead Blitzo was uniquely terrible and she wasn't????? I GENUINELY LIKE HER BEING A BITCH. I LIKE THAT IT'S FUNNY. I LOVED THE IDEA OF THESE TWO CRASHING AND BURNING BECAUSE THEY'RE BOTH HORRIBLE. HELLUVA TIME.
But these characters keep getting weird superficial depth added to them that's always the same "I JUST WANTED YOU TO SEE THAT I LOVED YOU BUT YOU WERE TOO SELFISH" x 1000000.
I think Ozzie and Fizz are very cute!! BUT I DO MISS THE WIT OF THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE!!! I feel like so much could be done with the fucked up aspects of Stolitz but we NEVER GET IT. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
WHERE WAS THE DARK HUMOUR I WAS PROMISED. or is it just in one off shock humor jokes that barely last a second.
UGHHH. I DON'T CARE ABOUT CHARACTERS IN HELL BEING ACCOUNTABLE, THAT'S WHAT HAZBIN IS FOR.
I CARE ABOUT A DUMB IMP BOSS NAVIGATING A BUSINESS WHILE BEING IN A DUBIOUS RELATIONSHIP WITH A POMPOUS DIPSHIT GOING THROUGH A DIVORCE
I love ASPECTS of Helluva Boss but there's so much that just makes me go WHYYYYYY WHY IS THIS JUST 🔞 MLP
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siriuslychessi · 3 months ago
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Let’s go with Blackinon (is that correct spelling?)👀
"I'm not jealous, but, like, come on, movie night is just for me and you only?"
"I'm personally offended that you didn't get me to be your fake date."
Blackinnon has 2 n's like McKinnon but you asked me about my babies so I don't mind how you write it 💕
Marlene had the popcorn and soda in her hands, she was waiting patiently for Sirius to come back from the bathroom with the tickets. They found out that they both loved film festivals and foreign films and were enjoying their third night in a row of terrible French movies with great directly and different sense of humour than the British one.
They might be in a film festival, and they might be foreign but not all of them had to be amazing. However, they were sure that by the end of the week they will find a masterpiece.
As she waited, wanting to get to their seats to unload her hands, she was approached by someone she was not wanting to see, her ex Matt, with a girl giggling next to him, someone that seemed far too confident to touch his arm so soon after his and Marlene's relationship ended not long ago.
Matt saw her and approached her, "Marley!" he said, and she wanted to just leave, not wanting to have this awkward interaction.
"Hello Matt," she replied.
"It's been a while, how have you been?" he smiled as the other woman put her arm around his.
"Good, you?" she added politely. Pretending she did not care that he was dating after two weeks of them breaking up.
"Excellent, this is Debbie." he introduced them, Marlene motioned to her full hands to show she was not able to shake anyone's hands.
They kept the pleasantries, asking about family, and what movies where they seeing, and Marlene just wanted Sirius to get there faster so she wouldn't have to endure this boring conversation, and her mind would stop asking the dumb question of "Was he dating Debbie while they were together?" over and over as the other woman clinger to her former boyfriend.
She mad at herself for even caring about that.
Matt asked another question and Marlene was about to make an excuse when she felt an arm around her.
"I'm not jealous, but, like, come on, movie night is just for us only right?" Sirius' voice came from her side and Marlene relaxed visibly.
"Glad you are back, Matt was just saying hi." Marlene explained, and introduced them all. They kept the weird conversation going for a little longer, until Sirius pointed out that they needed to go inside if they wanted to find their seats before the movie started.
Empty goodbyes were exchanged and Marlene sighed as soon as Matt and Debbie were out of sight.
"What a clueless asshole." Sirius admitted, looking at the pair going not minding how Marlene felt or that the last thing she needed was to talk to her ex and her new bimbo.
"I have to agree with that." Marlene echoed, quieter than usual.
"I'm personally offended that you didn't get me to be your fake date." he teased Marlene, with earn him a little eye roll and her bumping his arm off with her shoulder.
"I didn't think it plausible to go from one idiot to the other." she teased back.
"Ouch, that really hurt." he faked that his heart was hurting, but followed her all the same, she was smiling now, that was all he cared about.
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