#anyways all of this post is meant to be playful (please dont read as an attack on other ships) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notiddygothgf · 3 months ago

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10. Early Breakfast

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend. ❞

★ c.w.: smut. more (poorly timed) confessions. denji is his own warning. (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: Hi again pookie dooks ;)). Okay so. I have been waiting SO LONG to post this chapter. We're nearing the end of the ones I had pre-written, and as a result updates may come a little slower, but I'll try to keep up! (Just be patient w me, ur girl is #struggling rn w uni). You're gonna love this chapter (until you dont). not saying nothing though. ENJOY LOVELIES! muah! please leave many many comments (spam me idgaf) i need smth to look forward to reading and i ALWAYS go thru yall's comments w the dorkiest smile. ily. (no beta, we die like... yeah.)

★ w.c: .7.5k

shameless ; chapter index

AKI'S BED WAS WARM. Warm enough that you seemed to be able to forget where you were — or, rather, where you should have been. You had entire hotel suite waiting for you, yet it seemed as if you had wasted the first five days of your stay in Tokyo entangled with him. Two days had passed between your bathroom debacle and now, and you were back again right where it all had started.

You weren't entirely sure you minded it.

Aki wrapped his long, calloused fingers around your wrist, holding your bloody finger away from his face. You had cut your thumb open on the page of a magazine while the two of you were relaxing on his mattress — distantly, a song from a band you didn't know played on his CD player (The tonedeafs, or something like that).

"I want you to," You laughed, reaching your hand towards his face again. "I dared you to. I'm not a germaphobe, I don't care."

Aki furrowed his brows, holding your wrist away from his face once more, "You should care. It could get infected, or worse."

Always so serious.

You pouted, "Says who?"

"Me, everyone," Aki trailed off — playfully, of course, like he was lost in thought, "Any medical professional."

You laughed, flopping back onto the bed where you had been moments earlier before this had started, laying perpendicular to him with your back strewn over his stomach. Makima had given him the day off and you, not knowing what else could have been a better way to help him learn how to relax a little, decided to call out of work as well.

"Pussy," You teased him, "What kind of Devil Hunter gets squeamish around blood?"

"I'm not squeamish, I'm just taking your health into consideration," He remarked (again, with a playful lilt to his words, despite his serious tone). "And, besides — what if someone overheard this? You calling your superior a pussy, hm? Then what?"

You replied with a witty retort of your own, "And what if they knew their Captain was fucking his subordinates?"

"I think I could get away with one," He teased back. "Not subordinates, plural. Just a subordinate. A married one, at that."

"So there are other subordinates?" You asked him — it was meant to be teasing, but you would be lying if a depraved part of you didn't wonder if you were the only one he was seeing. You wouldn't have a right to be upset if you weren't, granted that you were still very much married to another man.

"No. But that doesn't make you any less of a cougar," He hummed. "Devil Hunters do worse shit than sleeping with their coworkers, I hate to tell you."

"I'm only five years older than you," You huffed. Rolling over to look at him, you added, "We're damned anyway, then. That's what you're saying?"

"Not damned," He replied. Finally setting the book he'd been reading down on the bed beside him, he said, "Blessed. At least, I am."

"You're blessed?" You asked. "I'm a trainwreck, Aki."

"You're my trainwreck, though, aren't you?" He reached down, ruffling your hair with his hand. "I'm blessed because you're the first person to come into my life and give me a reason to keep myself alive."

"I thought you said you wanted to kill the Gun Devil?" You teased.

"I do," He said. "I didn't care if I lived or died before. Now that I have you waiting around for me to come back, I wanna keep coming home."

The slightest frown tugged at the corners of your lips, "That's so sad. You don't have any family?"

"No," He caressed your cheek with the back of his thumb, "The Gun Devil killed them. That's why I said I didn't care if I lived or died. As long as I did it for them, I thought I'd be able to die happy."

"You still feel that way?" You asked.

"Not really. I think I'm starting to have a change of heart," He sighed — chest rising and falling as he did so, "I'm growing fond of my roommates. Between those two shitheads and you, I dunno," A pause, and then he continued, "I'm not so sure I'd be able to die happy knowing I left all of that behind."

It was a touching sentiment. You probably should have left it at that, but a part of you couldn't help but dwell on it. You were — at least a part of — his reason to live. You were what kept him alive, what kept him motivated.

That didn't sound like he "might have feelings" for you.

It sounded like he loved you.

And, to make matters worse, you were beginning to realize that you returned his affections. The craving him, the missing him — the worrying about his wellbeing, the need to constantly be around him... All signs pointed towards one direction:

You loved him, too.

And, before you could stop yourself, before you could tell yourself it was too soon, you found yourself uttering the phrase, "Do you love me, Aki?"

He paused. A moment passed, and he took a deep breath. Then, he peered down at you, "Yeah. I do. I think I'm starting to love those two Devils, too — or at least care for them, but..." He licked his lips. "Not in the way that I love you."

Your heart nearly stopped beating entirely — skipping a beat, and then another while a horde of angry butterflies filled your chest.

Not in the way that I love you.

The way that I love you.

I love you.

He loves me. You couldn't remember the last time you heard those words.

You hadn't taken notice of the silence — or how long it was, for that matter — until Aki spoke again, the depth of his voice vibrating beneath your body, setting your nerves alight.

"You don't... have to say it back," He added, a little more sheepishly. He was so patient with you, so forgiving — it was all so much more than you deserved. "But, yeah, I love you."

You finally spoke up — voice a little weaker than you had intended it to sound. "I.. love you, too. I know I do."

It felt right to confess. You couldn't keep lying to him — to him or yourself.

"Do you want to stop seeing me?" He asked. He sounded like he did not want you to say yes (or maybe you were projecting). "I know it's too soon. I don't want to ruin your life."

You scoffed, "Ruin my life? I'm like a starving beggar who's been given food. You're the best thing that's happened to my life in god-knows-how-long."

He blinked at you. "I don't..."

"It makes no difference," You added on, "I love you and you love me. So, what? Are we supposed to break each other's hearts? Over a man I haven't loved in years? A man with whom I've only stayed for the sake of convenience?"

Aki sighed quietly, calling your name, but you didn't listen.

"I'm tired of running away from the truth, Aki. You were the one who showed me that," You continued. "I love you, and I think I'd be completely miserable if I lived without you."

"But you'd be at peace. You'd have a house and a life in Kyoto, still," He remarked.

"You've consumed every inch of my peace. How can I give you your peace?" You quoted him. "Is that not what you told me? You don't want to stop seeing me, do you?"

"No, I don't," He said. "I'd be depressed beyond reprieve, but I'd do it if it meant you could be happy."

Finally, you rolled over, folding your arms over his chest, laying your head down over his heart — peering up at him through a fond gaze, "I'm happy with you, Aki. I don't want anything else."

There was an issue — of course. The issue being the dissolution of your marriage with your husband. But, still, the two of you danced around the truth.

"You shouldn't say things like that to me," He added quietly, "I'll hide you away in here forever."

You laughed softly, quietly, like you couldn't help but yearn for exactly that. "And, what? I should leave everything behind to stay here with you?"

To your surprise, however, he did not seem to be joking – not in the least. "Yeah," He deadpanned, "Would that be so bad?"

You sighed deeply, your fingers absently toying with the soft, rumpled covers of Aki's bed. The room had been bathed in a warm, golden light from the bedside lamp. The weight of contemplating a divorce hung heavily on you—images of an uncertain future and financial instability looming large in your mind.

"I'd have nothing if we divorced. I think that's the main reason I haven't done it by now. We never signed a prenup, so..." Your voice trailed off, the enormity of it all pressing down on you. "I'd be in shambles."

Aki shifted next to you, his gaze softening as he absorbed your words. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm in a gesture meant to soothe. "But you could start over. We could start over. You're miserable with him. You know that, right?"

"You're too young to understand," You sighed.

"All that for a five year age gap is kind of crazy," He retorted. "Help me understand, then – why won't you put yourself first, for once?"

You looked away, your eyes reflecting the anxiety you felt. "I would lose the house, Aki... and everything I've worked for... it's not just about me."

"The apartment down the hall is up for lease, I've heard. It's not exactly the same as your house, but it could be a start," Aki tilted his head slightly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "We could make it work."

You considered his words – the idea of a new beginning didn't sound all too bad. Slowly, a tentative smile started to spread across your face. You met Aki's gaze, and he returned your smile with one that was gentle and understanding – like he always was.

Finally, you shifted your position, rolling over to straddle Aki's waist, sitting in his lap. You reached down, gently plucking the magazine from his hands, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"You love me," You said giddily, grinning ear to ear like a lovestruck fool.

God, now that you heard him say it, you wanted to hear it again.

Just to make sure that it was real.

And he looked up at you through tired, pretty blue eyes, like you had hung the stars in the sky yourself. Like you were everything to him. "Yes."

"Only me," You continued.

To which he answered breathlessly, "Yes."

"And you're happy with me?" You went on, "You're not just saying that to get my hopes up?"

"Yes," He answered. "Happier than I've ever been."

You knew it was dangerous to indulge yourself so shamelessly in his affections. He loved you and you loved him – there was only one thing holding you back from being his and his entirely...Your marriage of convenience.

"And you," He asked. "Do you love me? Only me?"

"Of course," You answered. It should have been more difficult of an admission than it was. In reality, you hadn't loved anyone in years. "I haven't been able to fuck anyone else since you came around. That's how much I love you."

"You're not special," He tutted. "I can't even get off unless I'm thinking about you and that pretty face of yours. You know that?"

"I get that. I know you love me," You smiled. "But how much?"

Aki's hands slid up your legs, gripping your thighs. Slowly, he aided you in rocking back, then forth – until you took notice of the sudden hardness pressing into your core from below. He quirked a brow, "This much."

You widened your eyes, dragging your tongue over the front of your teeth. If that's the case, then that's a lot. You played into it, of course. You pulled the hem of his oversized sweater up and over your hips so that you could rut against him. The lace of your panties created a friction so delicious that your next words came out as a shudder, "This much?"

His lashes fluttered, pretty eyes threatening to shut – but he kept them open, like he wanted to commit every second of this moment to memory. "Yes."

You rubbed yourself along the length of the bulge in his sweatpants slowly, tantalizingly – "This much?"

He released the prettiest little trembling sigh, "Yes..."

"This much?" You leaned down a little further. Your hands braced themselves on his chest, sliding down to his abs, then back up again – all while you lowered yourself a little closer to his face, rutted against him a little harder, just the way he liked it.

"Yes," He whimpered faintly, weakly. When you brought your face a little lower, a little closer to his, you could see the faint hue of pink that painted his cheeks.

Unable to wait a moment longer, you touched your noses together, lips only inches apart.

"This much?" You breathed. Going a little faster now – all but riding the tent in his sweats – you felt your legs begin to tremble. "And this much? And this much?"

"Ah..." He panted, "Yes, yes, yes."

His eyes struggled to meet yours – you liked the sense of control it gave you. It made your mind run wild with desire, knowing he trusted you enough to let you have him like this. To let you take the reins. Just before your lips touched, you brought your bloody thumb up to his mouth.

Then, carefully, you painted the faintest trace of red on his lower lip. He froze – holding his breath, anticipating your next move.

You traced your tongue carefully over his lower lip, kissing his lips clean – licking up what was left. It was depraved and dirty and downright distasteful... but, fuck...

It was so hot.

Clearly, Aki shared your sentiment, because before you could pull away he was gripping the back of your neck and bringing you closer to him, slipping his tongue into your mouth while it was still open – stealing a dirty kiss from you. His lips were insistent against yours, desperate, even – tasting like mint with the faintest hint of blood.

With a blissful groan, he departed from your lips, kissing his way down your neck while he rocked your hips back and forth. The friction was just enough to have you moaning in tandem, falling into him.

His tongue was hot against your skin, pulling it into his mouth to suck gently on it – gentle enough that he wouldn't leave marks, hard enough that you were gripping his biceps for support.

You craned your head up toward the ceiling to give him more room to continue his onslaught down the valley of your neck, down your clavicle.

You brought your hands down to the waistband of Aki's sweatpants, where he was practically straining against the fabric. "Need you, Aki, please."

He let you wrangle his pants down just far enough to free him (no, he hadn't bothered to put on a pair of boxers after his shower) – just far enough to let his aching erection spring out. His fingers looped beneath the fabric of your panties with practiced ease, and he pushed them to the side.

"Right now?" He asked. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck. Need you, too, baby."

You wasted absolutely no time in lining his tip up with your entrance and sinking down on him. With little to no prep involved prior, it was a bit of a stretch – you could feel his length splitting you open, but, shit...

It felt so fucking good to have him inside of you. You fell forward onto him, letting him set the pace.

He let out the sexiest little gasp, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You won't get tired of me?" You asked, rising up and then sinking back down after a moment of adjustment. Up once more, then down once more, and you could feel the pain subsiding. "Of... of this?"

"Never," He gritted out, gripping your hips a little harder. He bounced you up and down a little faster, a little harder – and that little change in speed was all it took to have the both of you gasping. He moaned, "So perfect. Fuckin' love it."

You giggled, "So this is love?"

Trailing off, you gasped, a smile forming on your tender lips. It wasn't the years you had spent with your husband, arguing over money and food and everything else. It wasn't distasteful comments about your body, or a harsh sting on your cheek followed by a half-assed apology. It wasn't a broken promise of "I do," or a life in Kyoto. It was this.

Aki's response came in the form of a muffled whine of, "Yes," against your sensitive neck.

"This..." You grinned.

This was love.

You could get used to it.

You rustled from your sleep late in the evening. Nose twitching, you nuzzled your face into the warm surface your head was laid upon – warm, bare skin beneath you. Aki's chest was a milky white valley – between the pectorals of which you pressed a lazy kiss. He stirred, only slightly, and didn't wake.

A grumble of your stomach prompted you to sigh before slipping out of his grasp, out of the fortress his strong arms made around your head. His biceps were so plump that you almost wished you could sink your teeth into them, mark him as yours.

But, alas, duty calls.

You slid out of the bed slowly, being careful not to wake your lover in the process. His sweater slipped down your waist, pooled around your thighs, and your bare feet touched the floor of his bedroom as you padded towards the door.

You cast one last glance to the bed before you left. Aki was sound asleep, face turned to the side, inky black hair tousled and spread over the pillow. His pink lips were open just enough for quiet snores to escape. As if he sensed your absence, he grumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and rolled over onto his side. He wrapped an arm around the pillow – where you had been lying only a moment earlier – and snuggled into it.

God, he was so fucking cute – he was going to be the death of you.

A smile teased the corners of your lips. With no great deal of satisfaction, you cracked the door open – checking your surroundings before slipping into the living room. You tip-toed over the wooden floorboards (as if that would make a difference) and into the kitchen, pawing at the fridge until it opened.

You squinted into the refrigerator light, trying to scan its contents for a good snack. Let's see... Lettuce, Leftovers, Vegetables...

Berries! You grinned, reaching for the little package of strawberries. It looked like it was pretty new – surely he wouldn't notice a few missing... right?

If he did, he certainly didn't seem like he would care.

So you shut the fridge just as quietly as you had opened it. You nearly lept right out of your skin when you noticed something standing behind the door – someone.

It was the ginger boy from the party – Denji – and he was looking at you like he was just as confused as you were, standing only a little taller than you in Cookie Monster pajama pants and an old-looking undershirt.

What time is it? His roommates were supposed to be at training today!

He raked his eyes over your appearance, following the path of your bare legs up to your sweater, then up to your face again. Finally, he commented, "I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend."

You were fucking mortified. So much for being on the down low, right?

Swallowing, you replied, "I'm not–"

"Wait a sec, aren't you that girl from the party?" He squinted at you.

Shit. Shit. Double Shit.

"Uh..." You laughed awkwardly, toying with the hem of Aki's sweater. You knew you probably made for a remarkable sight – messy hair, bare feet, wearing nothing but his Captain (and roommate's) sweater. "What party?"

Public Safety loved to party. He wouldn't remember you from one night alone, would he?

"The one where Himeno got shitfaced? Wait, I don't think that narrows it down by much..." He pursed his lips, tapping his chin in thought while he scrutinized you, "It had to have been, like, a month ago, now. She started crying and then she got real wasted and puked on my shoes... She said she was real pissed at Hayakawa and his little girlfriend. That's you, right?"

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. You didn't know what was more mortifying – the idea that he knew you were sleeping with his captain, or the idea that Himeno was telling him about you.

If your flustered appearance didn't give it away (or the way you froze like a deer in headlights when he said that), your words definitely did. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

That sounds like something someone would say if they most definitely did know what someone was talking about, you thought.

What the hell was he doing out here this late, anyway? It wasn't fair.

"Youuu... sure...?" He asked, squinting at you a little harder. You were one question away from breaking a sweat, "'Cause he's been acting real fishy lately, and I heard noises coming from his room when I came back a few hours ago."

You were going to murder him and yourself a moment later. He said they wouldn't come home.

"I thought you were supposed to be at training?" You whisper-shouted back at him. "What noises could you possibly have heard?"

"We wrapped up early," He remarked, like that should have been obvious. "And, I dunno, but it sounded like someone was being murdered in there. Himeno said he had a "little girlfriend", and I don't see him around many women, so..." Snapping his fingers, he pointed them at you, "You're her. You're his secret girlfriend, right? I've been working on my detective skills, you know. I can tell these things about people."

You could do nothing but gape at him, utterly gobsmacked at two different things – Firstly, that this interaction was even happening, and, secondly, that he had managed to sniff you out so easily.

"Unless you're not," He trailed off – seemingly lost in thought, again, as he gazed up at the ceiling, scratching his chin, "You know, I heard him in the bathroom with someone the other day. Is that something you're aware of? I don't want to assume, but I figured you should know. He could be cheating on you."

Again, you couldn't form a suitable answer, mouth open. Still – because you were hungry – you plucked a strawberry from the container, inching your hand slowly towards your mouth.

"What are you doing?" A voice cut into the tense silence between you and the orange-haired boy – who, from your understanding, was no older than 16. The two of you jumped apart.

Aki stood in the hallway, eyeing you and Denji up wearily. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed – literally – with his hair still a little disheveled over his neck and in his face, donning nothing but a pair of sweatpants to match the shirt you were wearing.

We're cooked, you thought.

Then, immediately letting your gaze wander over his chiseled physique, you thought, He looks so fucking good without a shirt on.

The sound of his voice shook you from your horny reverie. He had called your name, or something like that, considering that he was looking right at you.

You tilted your head, popping the strawberry into your mouth, "Hmm?"

Aki's lips were pressed into that serious pout he always seemed to wear around his coworkers – something so different from how he normally was around you, something that you had to get used to, "I asked if he was bothering you."

"Oh." You swallowed the mouthful of strawberry you were chewing. Glancing between him and his ginger detective roommate, you muttered, "No.. No, he's just– He was just getting a snack."

His expression softened immediately. Still, he leaned against the kitchen counter, saying, "Come back to bed."

Well, shit, there goes my alibi, You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. He made it sound so tempting.

So, opening the refrigerator door and tucking the container of strawberries away on the shelf, you squeezed past Denji, murmuring a quick, "Good night."

Then you followed Aki back to his room, leaving the poor boy speechless in the kitchen.

The next morning, Aki was already up when you stirred, the soft sound of bowls clinking and the rhythmic whisking of something filling the quiet morning ambience. The smell of something sweet drifte d in from the kitchen, pulling you out of bed.

Snagging your purse off of the floor, you slipped into the bathroom, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Without thinking, you reached for Aki's blue toothbrush again—the one you'd claimed yesterday, and the time before that. There was something oddly comforting about using his things.

There was also something sort of ironic about the way you hesitated before using it — like you hadn't swallowed a load of his kids before, like this was overstepping.

As you brushed your teeth, your thoughts floated back to last night—the weight of his arms around you, the way his hands had roamed your body like they belonged there. Your confession had been a surprise. His confession had been hushed whispers of, "I love you. So perfect. All for me," against your skin, a sinful croon of your name while he fell apart beneath your touch.

You winced slightly at the ache in your lower back, a reminder of how tangled the two of you had been in the sheets. That ache was a small price to pay.

Spitting into the sink, you wiped your face and took a handful of water into your mouth. Then, reaching into your purse, you produced your little Birth Control tin, popping one of the tiny white pills into your mouth.

You wandered back out into the living room a minute or two later, drawn by the smell of what you assumed was breakfast. Aki was standing at the kitchen counter, his back to you, shoulders relaxed beneath one of his signature sweaters— one that, despite how soft and oversized it looked, did nothing to hide his lean form, the muscled slopes of his shoulders. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he moved so easily in his space, the domesticity of it all.

You walked up behind him without a word, slipping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against the hard plane of his back. Your hands trailed lazily over his abdomen, feeling the firm lines of his muscles through the fabric of his sweater. You couldn't help but smile to yourself; he was so deceptively toned beneath all those layers, the kind of strength that made you second-guess not divorcing your husband sooner.

"Hey, troublemaker," he said softly, his voice warm and teasing, like he knew you were up to something just by the way you touched him. He didn't even flinch at your sudden embrace, just leaned into you as if he had been expecting you.

You buried your nose between his shoulder blades, breathing him in. That familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of pancake batter—it was such a simple combination, but it made your heart ache in the best way. His hair was tied up in that silly little topknot again, and on anyone else it would have looked completely ridiculous. He smelled like everything good and familiar, like something you didn't even realize you needed.

He set the bowl of pancake batter down and turned slightly, his hand finding your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he wanted you. The kiss was languid, sensual, made your knees a little weak and left you dizzy in the best way. You could taste the sweetness of his affection, the way he held you like you were something precious.

In that moment, it hit you—you really were in love.

You didn't need to second-guess it. This wasn't like anything you had before. The ease, the quiet bliss of being here with him, in this little bubble you'd both created—it was something you had never known with your husband.

That marriage had been full of noise and expectations, but this... this was peace.

This was love.

And standing there, with Aki's arms around you and the smell of pancakes in the air, you knew you didn't want to let this feeling go.

"Hi. You sleep okay?" you asked, slipping your hands under the hem of his sweater, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his muscular back. You felt the subtle shift of his body under your touch, the way his breath caught for just a second.

"Better than okay," he replied, his voice still rough from sleep. "I don't even remember dreaming."

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Aww... did I put you to sleep?" The words came out soft, playful, with a teasing edge that hung in the air.

He chuckled, a deep, velvety sound that sent a ripple through your body. "That's rich coming from the one who came so hard she passed out last night."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, the memory making heat rise in your face as you buried it against his chest, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. His sweater smelled like him—warm, clean, and just a little bit of that cologne you couldn't get enough of.

After a moment, you tilted your head, peeking up at him through your lashes. Your hands moved beneath his sweater again, this time slowly exploring the firm ridges of his abs. He was a Greek god, he really was.

You could feel him tense, the muscles under your touch shifting with every slight movement of your fingers as they trailed down his abdomen, brushing lightly with your knuckles. You hummed, the sound vibrating softly in your throat. "Hmm... should I make it up to you?"

Aki's eyes dropped to yours, and you saw the change immediately—his face grew warm, the faintest hint of pink rising on his cheeks as his pupils widened. "Make what up to me?" he asked, his voice lower now, like he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer or if he was bracing for it.

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, the fabric snapping back against his skin with a soft, sharp sound. He let out a quiet grunt in response, and the sound sent a surge of satisfaction through you.

"You're a little minx today, aren't you?" he teased, though his voice was laced with something deeper, his smirk betraying just how affected he was.

You just smiled up at him, your fingers lingering at the waistband, daring him to see where the moment would take you next.

"What can I say? I'm an early riser," you teased, your finger trailing downward over his sweatpants, over the tent that was beginning to form where your fingers ghosted over them. The way his breath hitched, followed by a flustered laugh, made you grin.

You tugged at the strings of his sweatpants, mischief dancing in your eyes. "And I think someone else is too."

Aki's gaze darted between the stove, where the pancakes were almost ready to be poured, and the closed bedroom doors, behind which his roommates were still fast asleep. His brow furrowed as if he were contemplating something serious, but the playful glint in his eyes hadn't left.

"You're insatiable," he said, though his voice held just the faintest tremor of doubt. "Not like this. Not in the kitchen."

"You're thinking about it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Craving something sweet?"

"Always, pretty girl," he murmured, his tone soft but filled with heat. "But don't tempt me."

"Why not?" you challenged, leaning in just a little closer. "Who was it that said to give in to temptation and not run from the truth? Why stop now?"

Aki's smirk deepened as he slid one hand around your waist, his fingers grazing the small of your back. "Because my temptations involve me hiking that little sweater up and fucking you right there on the table until the neighbors call the cops," he whispered, his lips barely brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Behave."

Yes, sir.

Just before you could retort, you heard the soft creak of a door opening. In an instant, both of you pulled away from each other, the space between you filled with unspoken tension. Eventually, a familiar head of ginger hair popped into the kitchen, tired eyes barely open, pants hanging low on his hips.

"Morning," Denji yawned.

Aki's words left you breathless, still. You cast him an uncertain glance. He smirked – barely there, of course, but just enough to tell you that your conversation wasn't over. Then, he turned back to the stove.

Denji reached for the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Orange Juice.

"You making pancakes over there?" The younger of the two boys asked, pulling a seat out from beneath the kitchen table and plopping down – clearly unwilling to bring up the whole issue of whatever the fuck happened last night.

This entire situation is unreal.

"Yeah," Aki answered. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it either. Instead, he poured some batter onto the pan.

Awkwardly, you inched towards the seat at the table across from him. You sat down and folded your hands on the table. He eyed you up curiously, like wasn't sure if last night had been a dream. You avoided his gaze, looking down at your lap.

Suddenly, you felt conscious of your appearance — was your hair disheveled? Had he left marks on your neck? Did Denji have some sort of superpower that allowed him to see through your sweater and see the bruises Aki's strong hands had left on your hips the night before?

A few silent minutes passed, during which neither of you three brought up the elephant in the room. A moment longer, and you were joined by Aki's other nightmare roommate — a short girl with pink hair, sharp teeth, and red little horns protruding from the top of her head.

She entered the kitchen with a proud shriek of, "Well risings, mortals! I smell sustenance."

When she noticed you, a look of confusion replaced her grin. She sat down at the table next to Denji and asked him, "Who is this human?"

And, just like that, the line is crossed.

Denji shrugged as Aki set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He quirked a snarky little brow, glaring up at him, "Dunnno. Why don't you ask him?"

Power's lips were pressed into a confused little pout. She looked up at Aki as he walked behind her, but the moment she saw he was coming towards her with a plate, she kept her mouth shut. Four pancakes were heaped onto each of their dishes. The moment it hit the table, she reached for the fork and the knife and dug in.

Finally, Aki came around the table, offering you a plate of pancakes and an apologetic expression before taking a seat next to you. There were two pancakes on his plate, garnished with butter and honey.

You looked at him with wide eyes that flicked between him and his roommate, blinking extra hard, as if to say, Help me.

He sighed your name in response, "Meet Denji and Power, the two shitheads I live with."

Great. That wasn't helpful at all.

"Why are you not bowing?" The Power girl slammed her fist down against the table. "You are in the presence of greatness."

Denji didn't seem to care much to acknowledge her, ripping a piece off of his pancake and stuffing it into his mouth before saying, "You're bangin' the captain, right?"

Your mouth hung open. Aki tensed, furrowing his brows angrily, "Denji."

"What? You told me you weren't seeing anyone when I asked you, but I saw her come out of your room," Denji snapped back. He ripped another chunk out of his pancake, and stuffed his mouth again.

"We were having a... sleepover...?" You answered hesitantly, trying to make the situation better (and making it worse).

Denji pointed an accusatory finger at you, "Girls and boys don't have sleepovers."

Power shoved his arm, "Nonsense. Plenty of people do it."

Denji's head snapped towards her. He barked, "Yeah, plenty of people who are banging each other!"

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning into the table.

Aki handled the situation calmly, as he normally did, "She's my girlfriend."

And, just like that, your head was popping back up. Your wide eyes were on him immediately, heart pounding against your ribs like it was about to break loose. Girlfriend?

Then, a warmth spread over the back of your neck and your face, and you realized you weren't entirely opposed to being his girlfriend. Unless he was just putting up an act. In which case, you definitely weren't getting your hopes up — on paper, you were still married, anyway, right?

Right?

Denji and Power looked just as shocked as you did.

"You lying piece of shit!" Denji hissed. He turned to Power and added, "See? I told you! I knew it! He's been too lenient lately. Pay up."

Power crossed her arms. Mouth still full, she replied, "I refuse."

Denji leapt up from his seat, pointing at her now, "No way. You owe me a feel!"

Oh my god.

"There's a new pack of gum in the car," Aki sighed — visibly distressed by his roommates' behavior but noticeably unsurprised. Clearly this was no infrequent occurrence in his household.

The two of them perked up at that.

Aki continued, voice stern and notably father-like, "I'll give the both of you two pieces each if you keep your mouths shut."

Slowly, Denji lowered himself back into his seat. Power's angry face dropped, replaced by a wide-eyed frown, like that of a begging dog.

"Yes, sir," Denji answered obediently.

Power added, "At your service, My Liege."

"This doesn't leave the table. Got it?" Aki told the two of them. Carefully, he cut his pancakes into nine squares. He popped one onto a fork.

The two roommates nodded quickly.

Aki sighed, "Good. If you have any questions to ask her, do it politely."

Power was the first to ask, "Do you work with him?"

Finally having a chance to speak, you smiled softly, sheepishly, "Yeah. I'm new to Tokyo, though."

"Great. There will be plenty of time, then," She grinned, "I wish the two of you nothing but success in your mission to procreate!"

You choked on the mouthful of pancakes you were trying to swallow down. Before you could even comment on that wildly invasive statement, Denji answered with a question of his own.

"He said be respectful, dumbass," He tutted. He polished off the rest of his pancakes in (seemingly) a few ridiculously huge bites before he asked. "Is it true that women's boobs are measured with letter-sizes?" A pause, then he added, "How big are yours?"

"You little brat," Aki grumbled as he slammed his fork down on the table, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

An hour after breakfast had wrapped up, and Aki had left you to do the dishes, you left for the balcony — but not before reaching into the pocket of the suit jacket he had left neatly folded on the couch and stealing one of his beloved cigarettes and his lucky lighter.

You didn't know what had gotten into you lately. Yet, as you stepped outside and closed the sliding door behind you, you couldn't help the relieved sigh that left your lips the moment the cig was lit and in your mouth.

The cherry crackled as you pulled a long, drawn out hit from it — thinking briefly back to a point in time some six or seven years ago when you were still a young Public Safety officer with a cigarette dangling from her lips, and then to the night before, when Aki had blown the smoke into your mouth. You sighed, releasing the smoke with the slightest cough.

Of course, the peaceful moment was shattered the moment you felt your phone buzzing in the pocket of the basketball shorts Aki had lent you earlier, saying something about how Denji was "Shamelessly ogling your legs". They were long enough to touch the back of your calves. Of course, you imagined they fit him differently.

You plucked the little device out, flipping it open. The screen was illuminated by a call — with two concerns being raised. Firstly, your phone was only on 12%. Secondly, the person calling you was your husband.

Your heart dropped. In a moment, it was as if the tranquil morning had been shattered, leaving you with that feeling of dread you knew all too well. You hadn't spoken to him since the night before you had left for Tokyo.

You flipped the phone open, accepting the call. "Hey."

"Hey. How have you been?"

Fine, before he called. You didn't say that, though, instead pulling another puff of your cigarette. "I've been good."

There was a rather lengthy pause, after which your husband cleared his throat, "Look. I wanted to call you because I felt real bad about what happened before you left."

You couldn't possibly doubt him more. Still, you had spent the entirety of last night getting your guts rearranged by his superior. You figured you had outdone him. "Yeah? It's alright."

"No, it's not," He answered, much to your surprise, "I had no right to hit you. That was super out of line. I'm just... I've been stressed out with work and you being gone, and... I dunno, I..."

The line paused again. You took another hit.

"I can't shake this feeling about you in Tokyo. I feel like something's wrong," He finished.

Your stomach churned with unease. He was right, of course, but you couldn't let onto that – if it had taken him that long to notice, he couldn't really care. Hell, he hadn't called you since you left.

"Like what?" You replied with a noncommittal hum. You couldn't give less of a shit what he was feeling, to be completely fair and honest. He never cared what you were thinking?

"I don't know what. I know I said some rude things, but... I don't think that's an excuse for you to be ignoring me like this. I've been waiting for your call," He sighed. "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

You nearly burst out laughing at the sheer irony of it all. So now he cares?

He's far too late.

As if on cue, the sliding door opened. Faintly, you could hear Denji and Power shouting at each other in the background, followed by a set of quiet footsteps right behind you. The door shut. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Aki came up on you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He smelled of pancakes and laundry soap and cologne, a scent so divine that it had you relaxing into his touch instantly.

On the phone, your husband drew on, "Hello? You still there?"

You felt a warm kiss at the back of your neck, followed by another that landed a little higher, and then a little higher. Then he peppered a series of butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin there. You grinned, leaning into his touch while swatting him away all the same.

"Yeah," You answered, voice teetering on a giggle. Aki pulled you flush against his chest, arms squeezing you tight while he teased you with more butterfly kisses. "Sorry, I'm multitasking."

Aki's hands gripped your hips, pulling them back so that your ass was pressed right up against him. Then, he leaned down, nibbling softly at the skin near the corner of your jaw – then soothed over it with a lick of his warm, flattened tongue.

You bit back a laugh, pushing him away. Finally, he seceded, leaving you alone so that he could sit down on the chair on the balcony and watch you.

Your husband spoke up. You had almost forgotten he was there. In a few short words, he shattered your entire world;

"I'm being stationed in Tokyo."

a/n: ermmmmmmm... heyyyyy... how yall doin.... ok now look. don't hate me. you know after all that sugar i gave yall i had to throw in a curveball, cmon. (this is a notiddygothgf fanfic after all). dont be too mad, i'll be back shortly!!! the plot thickens from here. I wonder what will happen?? (jk i already know but id love to hear what YALL think will happen). (you know mama always makes it up to you bbs). THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR UNWAVERING SUPPORT! You guys and ur comments literally keep me going. Part of me never wants this story to end (which is crazy bc it was originally a one shot lmfao.). anyway not too much more, love yall!! ciao pookies! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

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dynamics-of-an-asteroid · 4 years ago

Note

Dont suppose you have a copy of the interview you could share?

For you, dear anon~

His Dark Materials: Andrew Scott on life after Fleabag and Sherlock

We’ve loved him as both Fleabag’s Hot Priest and Sherlock’s menacing Moriarty. Now, he’s back on our screens in the new series of His Dark Materials. Polly Vernon talks to our TV crush

Andrew Scott is mortified. The actor – formerly Moriarty to Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock, then the Hot Priest of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag, imminently Colonel John Parry in the BBC’s adaptation of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials – arrives at the photographic studio, bang on the appointed hour, in a fawn cashmere cardigan with a fine gold chain around his neck, bemoaning “this terrible, terrible eye infection, which is making me so self-conscious. I’m so sorry. It isn’t that you’ve massively upset me before we’ve even started. It’s so annoying. But anyway…”

Scott, 44, is small, vivid, wiry and garrulously Irish, with a face that is not handsome so much as mesmerising, intense, sharply boned, symmetrical, startlingly expressive. Sequences of emotions so subtle and complicated that I can’t begin to identify or keep up with them ruffle his brow from moment to moment. And, yup, the whole thing is rather disrupted by his left eye. This is no light kiss of conjunctivitis. It’s a swollen, red, perma-weeping situation that engulfs the whole socket. Scott turns his face two thirds on to me, so the infection is largely hidden, which would probably help if we weren’t sitting in a brightly lit hair and make-up room with a massive, inescapable mirror fixed to one wall. “Oh God,” Scott says every time he catches sight of his reflection.

Stress?

“Let’s be honest,” he says. “Let’s not skirt around the issue. It’s being overworked and…” Scott’s eye begins weeping. “Oh my goodness. I am so sorry. Really, really very sorry.”

Wanna wear my sunglasses, I ask, holding them out to him.

“That would be a bit more weird, wouldn’t it? I actually did think about that in the taxi, but I thought that would be some sort of weird and screwed Invisible Man-type thing. I mean, it couldn’t be worse. And then we have to go and get our photograph taken. It’ll be one of those pictures where, you know, those creepy pictures… Of people crying?”

That’s what Photoshop’s for, I say.

“Anyway. Let’s just ignore it.”

I wonder if it’s particularly hard to walk around with an eye infection at a point in time where you’re not merely famous, as Scott is – a star of stage, screen and Bond film, winner of multiple awards, including, as of barely two weeks ago, a Best Actor Olivier for Present Laughter at the Old Vic – but specifically famous for being sexy.

In 2019, Andrew Scott became synonymous with, well, sex. While playing a character technically known as the Priest, whom the general public instantly renamed the Hot Priest, the spiritual support turned transgressive love interest of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s supremely popular Fleabag, Scott became a cypher for the nation’s more exotic desires. A deliciously contentious pin-up. Ground zero on an earnest social media debate about whether the Priest’s relationship with Fleabag should be considered abusive, power imbalanced, “problematic”. And that was just for starters.

The Priest’s sexual iconography extended far beyond the limits of the show, becoming the subject of internet memes and real-life merchandise (visit online retailer Etsy for your £12 Hot Priest mug emblazoned with an illustration of Scott in priest’s robes, alongside the word “kneel”, a reference to a pivotal moment between the show’s lead characters, which takes place in a confession box, the climax of which, assuming you haven’t already seen it, you could probably take a stab at). There was an unprecedented upsurge in young worshippers, and women started bombarding social media “influencer” the Rev Chris Lee of west London with nude photographs. There was much foetid fan fiction.

To be publicly defined by so much sex, as Scott still is, a year and a half after Fleabag concluded, and then to be encumbered by something as visibly unsexy as an eye infection, I can see how that might make a chap self-conscious.

Scott isn’t here to rake up all that old Hot Priest stuff, mind. He’s here to talk about the second series of His Dark Materials, a lush, expensive fantasy drama based on the Philip Pullman books, jewel in the crown of the BBC’s autumn schedule. The series was filmed through 2019 and the beginning of 2020 and had all but wrapped before lockdown. Good timing, as it turned out, because the extensive post-production processes, unlike shooting, could be completed in isolation.

Scott’s Colonel John Parry is an explorer, the missing father of the central character, 14-year-old Will Parry. He’s a man who slipped into a parallel universe some years earlier, acquired a “daemon” – an exterior animal-formed expression of his soul, a female osprey called Sayan Kötör, voiced with public-pleasing symmetry by Phoebe Waller-Bridge – and never found a way back to “our” world and his son. I speak as a fan of the books, which you might describe as a darker, existential response to Harry Potter, although honestly? They’re better than that. The show is great, a deft, rewarding interpretation, and Scott is an exciting prospect as Parry.

Did he jump at the part?

“I did, actually. It was definitely something I was into. We were doing a play and it seemed like a fun thing to do.” Scott is one of those who slips into the third person when speaking about himself in a professional capacity.

Had he read the books?

“Yeah,” he says. “I think they’re extraordinary. The truth, but told on a slant. I love the way Pullman tells children about spirituality or religion in such an extraordinary, intelligent way. He doesn’t speak down to them. He talks to children’s souls.”

Given that Pullman effectively kills off God through the course of the books and Scott’s a lapsed Irish Catholic who has suffered his share of shame on account of the church’s grip on his homeland (more on which shortly), I’d imagine Pullman’s books talked to Scott’s adult soul too.

Presumably, he didn’t have to audition. Presumably, he never has to. Too famous for auditions?

“No,” he says. “Although I’ve always thought auditioning is a pretty good thing to do.”

Why?

“Because you’re able to understand, ‘Oh, this is the vibe here.’ You think, when you’re an actor, you don’t have much choice, but I’ve always felt like auditioning is a good opportunity for you to go, ‘Oh well, I don’t much like you either. I think you’re dreadful!’ ”

I don’t care that you didn’t give me that part?

“Yeah.” Scott becomes playfully, theatrically defiant. “I don’t care!” He flicks aside an imaginary rejection with a churlish hand.

Will John Parry and His Dark Materials be enough to eliminate all residual overtones of Hot Priest sexiness from Scott? Maybe. He is a fine actor, no question, entirely transformed from role to role. I saw him play Paul, a narcissistic, fame-addled touring rock star, at the Royal Court in 2014 in Simon Stephens’ Birdland, back when his deeply sinister Moriarty weighed almost as heavily on Scott’s reputation as the Hot Priest does now. I’d watched him become someone else entirely on stage. “Oh, you saw that?” Scott says, pleased.

I quote, “Am I cancer?” at him, his defining line from the play, as evidence.

“Oh Jesus. Oh f***ing hell. Oh my. I’d forgotten that line. ‘Am I cancer?’ ”

The Hot Priest association hasn’t left him yet, which is why I find myself asking what it’s like to be the very definition of sexiness.

“You get invited to more parties.”

Better parties?

“Yeah.”

Better than during his Moriarty phase?

“Definitely.”

It must be fun to find yourself le dernier cri in sexy, according to the whole nation.

“Yeah, that’s fun,” he says. “I didn’t really like being associated with scary. It’s not what I’m interested in being, in life, being intimidating to people. It’s not part of my nature, whereas being sexy to people…”

That is part of his nature?

“Well, they’re very different things.”

They’re both about having power over people.

“I suppose they are, yes.”

So did Scott, bored of scaring people, say to Phoebe Waller-Bridge, writer and star of Fleabag and a long-term friend (they met in 2009 while starring in Roaring Trade at the Soho Theatre), “Write a role for me that will make everyone think I’m just really, really sexy now”?

“That’s such a good belt. Are they two ‘Gs’?”

“Exactly.”

——————————

Andrew Scott is not the easiest interview. He’s utterly charming. Really, just a delight. In between prostrating himself for the offence of his eye and apologising for not turning up the first time we were scheduled to meet (ten days earlier; a delayed Covid test result meant he couldn’t make it), he ensures I have a good time in his company. He is playful. He makes me laugh. His every utterance is delivered as a grand performance. (“Shhhh! Just… Shhhh!” he implores, placing a finger against his lips while expressing frustrations over the mindless jabber of social media, and he does it so powerfully, he compels me to be quiet, breathlessly to await delivery of his next line.) He finds elegant ways to flatter me. He laughs at my jokes and is terribly taken with my belt.

Yeah. For Gucci.

“Oh. Ha ha! I thought it was the Golden Globes. I love the Golden Globes. Ha ha!”

And of course, he’s Irish. Clichédly, melodiously Irish, which makes everything sound softer and jollier than it might otherwise.

As for the actual business of being interviewed, of answering straight questions with straight answers, finishing off sentences, offering more than a slip-slide of vagaries punctuated by vigorous hand gestures, none of which translates into print? He’d rather not.

He tells me, as he’s told other journalists before, this is because he’s interested in navigating the line between “privacy and secrecy”, then says he’s aware he’s sometimes “got away with secrecy under the guise and respectability of privacy”, as if signalling potential incoming slipperiness, which means I prepare to throw every trick in the book at him.

First up: amateur psychology.

Might Andrew Scott’s gayness be at the heart of his reluctance to speak more freely? Perhaps. This is no scoop. He’s been out for almost as long as he’s been famous. “I mean, as a civilian, I was quite young [when I came out], you know? But then, as a celebrity…”

He tails off, allows me to fill in the blanks. This is another of his evasion tactics. I can’t very well quote Scott on the presumptions I make about things he never quite says.

He had to have another coming out?

“Yes. And I have another one coming up.”

He has another coming out coming up?

“Yeah.”

So that will be, what? Tier 3 gayness?

“Tier 3, yeah.”

Scott grew up in Ireland at a time when it wasn’t legal to be gay, which could certainly seed an enduring reluctance towards carefree openness in a person. He invokes the concept of shame more regularly than the average interviewee. He was born in Dublin in 1976 to Nora, an art teacher, and Jim, who worked at an employment agency. He has one older sister, Sarah, and a younger one, Hannah.

He was shy, so started attending a children’s drama course.

Did that help?

“Yeah. Acting to me is not pretending to be someone else. It’s more like, this is who I actually am. The lie that tells the truth,” he says. I am none the wiser. He was clearly talented. He went from adverts to his first starring role in a film aged 17 (Korea, directed by Cathal Black), won a bursary to art school but took a place at Trinity College Dublin to study drama instead, and ditched that six months in to join Dublin’s Abbey Theatre. He’s been gainfully employed in the field ever since.

How Catholic was his upbringing?

“Well, there were Catholic priests in my life,” he says. “None of whom I wanted to have sex with.”

Does it amuse Scott to know he inspired a mass fetishising of priestly ranks? That in 2019, the Hot Priest would make, “Can you have sex with a Catholic priest?” one of the most googled terms of the year?

“Absolutely f***ing mental,” he says.

Homosexuality wasn’t legalised in Ireland until 1993, when Scott was 16.

“I always think, if I’d had a boyfriend then, which I definitely did not…”

No?

“No.”

He knew he was gay, though?

“No. No, no, no, no!”

Was he suppressing it or not thinking about it?

“I would say suppressing. Definitely suppressing. I don’t believe people just don’t think about it.”

An upbeat, cheesy jazz remix of something or other starts playing outside the room.

“Oooh, this is the soundtrack for this bit of the interview,” says Scott. He wiggles his shoulders to the music.

I switch to strict dominatrix interviewer mode. Focus, I say. You were about to tell me something good.

“Oh, shit, was I? OK. I think what’s really insidious is that people don’t ask you about sex or… People wouldn’t say, ‘Are you gay or are you [straight]?’ And the lack of directness is very damaging. They just didn’t go there.”

Does he think his family, friends, the people closest to him knew then that he was gay?

“No,” he says. “I don’t think they did know. Or maybe they have a suspicion, but they think, I want to be respectful, so I’m not going to ask about that. Then [when you do come out], people say, ‘Oh, I’m glad.’ You know? If you do talk about it. So I suppose what I feel now is, talking about sex or sexuality is important. Really important.”

Having said that, “There’s still getting rid of the shame. In a situation like this, 10 or 15 years ago, I would have been…” He fakes shock, horror. “Oh no! Polly’s just asked me about [he switches to a whisper] that.”

Scott will talk about his sex life only notionally. No specifics. For 15 years, between 2001 and 2016, he was in a relationship with the actor turned screenwriter Stephen Beresford (Scott starred in Beresford’s 2014 film Pride). Ever since, he’s refused to answer questions about his romantic life.

And he’s not going to talk about it now, I presume.

“No.”

What if we talk about it opaquely?

“OK.”

Where does he see himself, domestically, in an ideal world? Married with kids whom he’ll, I dunno, adopt or have via surrogacy?

“I like it. It’s bold. Am I going to adopt or…?”

Get a surrogate?

“I definitely think that’s something I would be open to.”

Great, I say, with blatant sarcasm. Thanks. How specific.

“Ha! I’m sorry. OK. Have I got any children at the moment? No. How can I… [explain]? OK. I was with a friend of mine in Dublin…”

His partner?

“No, no, no. Not my partner. Ah ha. I see what you were…”

Teasing. Yes.

“Ha! Yes. So, I was with a friend in Dublin and we were walking around and he was looking at apartments and I was like, ‘What about this place here?’ You know? And he said, ‘No,’ and I said, ‘Why not?’ and he said, ‘I don’t live a heteronormative life, so I don’t want a heteronormative house.’ ”

What’s a heteronormative house?

“Two up, two down thing. He goes, ‘I can live in a loft or a weird space. I don’t need those things.’ He was so proud of it. He really owned it. I think where a lot of one’s pain comes from is when you go, ‘I should want that.’ And so, to answer your question opaquely, I have kids I adore. I love children, genuinely, and I had a very happy childhood. But I also feel, if I don’t have kids, that’s all right. I think I would’ve attached a lot of shame beforehand, with not living a particularly heteronormative life… Even with being gay, there’s a sort of way of being gay that’s acceptable. And I don’t feel that any more.”

He feels you can be unacceptably gay?

“Exactly. Exactly!”

I ask when shame shifted for him and Scott says it was when Ireland voted overwhelmingly in favour of same-sex marriage in the 2015 referendum, which felt, he says, “like acceptance, genuinely. And I remember going out to this gay bar in Dublin and this girl came up to me, this cool Dublin girl, and she said, ‘What are you doing here? You need to go down to, I don’t know, blah, blah, this bar in some park.’ She was saying, ‘This isn’t the right gay bar for you. This is some shit gig,’ when the fact I’m in a gay bar in Ireland [at all] is a miracle to me, and then some person with a half-shaved head is telling me, ‘No, you need to go somewhere cooler.’ ”

His left eye starts weeping again.

“I’m so happy about that,” he says. “Even though I’m crying.”

I ask Scott if he has a game plan when picking roles, if he plots his course from Sherlock villain to Bond quasi-villain (he played Max Denbigh in Spectre) to sex icon, and, if so, what next? “No. Jesus, no,” he says.

We talk about the totalitarianism of social media, which he isn’t on, and share a mutual despair over it. “I thought it was something one would associate with the right, but actually, now it’s [the left] that is very ‘you’re this’ or ‘you’re that’. I find that quite frightening. It actually makes me feel ferocious.”

Is he not worried about being cancelled, of somehow saying the “wrong” thing, according to Twitter sensitivities, then having a thousand voices mobilised against him, demanding his firing, in the style of JK Rowling?

“I’m not,” he says. “I refuse to be. A very intelligent person I was talking to recently was writing a book and he said, ‘I’m going to get a sensitivity expert to have a look. I don’t want to get cancelled.’ I found that frightening.”

Is he rich? “Rich is the absence of worry about money,” he says. He can’t remember the last time he worried about money.

That must be nice.

“Of course it f***ing is. I think it’s a miracle. I really do. I was working in a French theatre in London for nothing – none of us was working for anything – and I remember the artistic director of the theatre talking about the fact we weren’t earning any money as some sort of virtue. I remember feeling really annoyed about that, like this isn’t good.”

This leads to an inevitable conversation about how the arts are suffering with Covid, including a segue down the Fatima route, the much shared government advert that depicted a young ballerina and suggested she retrain in something called cyber. “Her name’s not even Fatima,” Scott rails. “I think she’s called Desire’e. From New York.”

I mean to ask him about his experience of filming The Pursuit of Love with Lily James and Dominic West, stars of their own recent off-screen micro-scandal in Rome, just in case he lets any scurrilous insight slip, but our time’s up and it’s not as if Scott has much form on offering up scurrilous insight anyway.

Still, I feel grateful to him for meeting me halfway on the other stuff. And so I say goodbye to Andrew Scott, the UK’s foremost gay heterosexual lapsed Catholic faux-priest lust icon with a troublesome eye infection.

#''Tier 3 gayness'' is peak comedy #I'm not sure if I should put this in the tag but y'all can reblog if you need it on yours #long post #andrew scott

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mikkock · 5 years ago

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Uhm??????? Unacceptable?? Please tell me more about your OCs in that last art? I demand it? I want a full report on my desk before morning? Cite your sources please?

Oh no,, you’re asking,,, about my own faves,,, sorry to everyone, but I guess im never going to shut up ever now. (i already don’t shut up ever, what have u done, im now going to speak so much that society will collapse AT LEAST)

But for real. I enjoy pretending I don’t have faves, I love all my kids the same, buT WE ALL KNO THAT’S A LIE, those two my fave bitches (they snatched that title from the last two faves, rip to them, and they also snatched, n I must really make that clear, the title of “the bitches with the most AUs from the previous previous faves. Their power.)

SO. Get ready for a ride, table of content: them, their respective character, their story, and the pLETHORA OF ALTERNATE STORIES I GAVE THEM because i must yell about all the versions of my kids i have (non-exhaustive cause its that serious bro, but ill take extra time for the universe depicted in that art just for u bby). (tbh if clamp is allowed to sprinkle their fave gays in all their universes so am i, except they aint secondary characters there, every story is just theirs. love that concept.)(itll be so long you’re getting a whole novel even if i have to post it in two posts)

So~ Em twos. Dari n Wei-wei as I call em, or Dumbass n Egg if you wanna get friendly.

They’re my proudest instance of “oops i made a squad of characters, and two of them just accidentally were so perfectly compatible and complementary oh no I guess they’re in love now.” And then they became my favourite. Cause I guess their potential was too much (jk its bc they hot)

cuties.

I spent ten minutes wondering which to introduce first cause dang son, I want to talk bout them both so much shefjgfdg

First, as I technically designed him first (like ten minutes before the other), my man weiwei. if u ever saw my art its impossible that you havent seen him at least once. cause i’m legit always drawing him. cause im in love bro.

Demonstration : here are my computer scribbled weiweis of 2020 so far (with a few daris there n there they’re a package deal), that i could find, and they do not include all the paper sketches that i’m too lazy to take pics of. (i just been drawing him with so much hair these days that’s illegal, his brand is baldness)

But anyway, he’s CHEN Chia-Wei, he’s 21, he’s Taiwanese n I love him. Two very important facets of his character when you meet him: he doesn’t talk, and is absolutely, in every single dimension, built to make you fall head over heels for him.

He’s (in the “canon” storyline if i may call it that since it’s def not my most developed one but oh well) an art student, mostly paints but is also great at photography and videography (his vibe is busy hectic pieces with strong bold colours, lots of harsh edges, and very people focused).

Aside from that, he’s also super into fashion, and because he’s part of the rich boy squad (the “im broke so im giving half my characters wealth in compensation) he Can and Does exhibit some quite funky fits when he feels like it. (maybe a reason I draw him a lot, since my fave thing is pretty boys in weird ass clothes)(and then i also draw him in just casual shit cuz tittiful men in plain white tees you know. there’s just something about it.)

Small compilation of outfits. ft me and my band handwriting roasting outfits that id also kill to own but ok u know.

He digs music. (i make playlists for my OCs and i gotta say, his is the best one, i spent so many hours researching it, “arranging” it etc n its still a work in progress but dude. she got many moods my fave part is when it suddenly turns into so many cheesy ballads also she’s enormous cause im as wordy in playlists as I am in writing.) listens to a lot, n also he can play piano n guitar. cause you know. heartthrobs got to win your heart with a song (and if he’s alone he can even mumble some songs, who knows maybe even sing em softly, definitly a sight to stumble on accidentally). Big main artists that have his vibes are Hello Nico, No Party for Cao Dong, n Circa Waves’s “what’s it like over there” album.

He does a lot of sports. He ain’t fit through magic, rip to him. He’s got a serious routine, and it’s a time he likes to use alone, cause nothing like running at the break of dawn, alone with your thoughts, which you can just easily forget through the exhaustion of a workout session afterwards.

he also eats. A lot. Food is just good, bro. (the canon story is def happening some place europe aka his biggest struggle is how expensive food is here. outrageous.)

He secretly loves super cheesy movies. the dramatic romcoms??? the cute shows that are just so cute and worriless?? anything involving soulmates??? yeh dude. he watches it, he reads it, he listens to it, and he may cry about it, but no one will know. That’s the one true guilty pleasure. (and he definitly has a collection of romance dvds, books n manhuas in his old room back at the family home. where no one can see it. perks of studying abroad. no one can see ur hoarding of material that clashes your image. “yes i watch edgy experimental things haha yes i love those smart people movies of course wow the philosophy…” and then immediatly goes to watch the trashiest predictable but oh so sweet dramas all night)

While he doesn’t speak (as in with the mouth) he can communicate in a bunch of language, due to having moved around quite a bit. On top of his native mandarin and hokkien, he’s fluent in English, so he can use those to write, and is also fluent in TSL, and pretty good in HKSL (and from that, other close-in-syntax sign languages). So he doesn’t have trouble getting around, but then he is also overall quiet in public (with close friends and over text though, that’s another story, that’s where he gets chattier, and also where you may get more of his true personality). Also, he can speak with his sister. That’s pretty cool bro.

I was going to say he’s a very “hides his true colours under a shell” type of character but you know, for an egg character, that’s pretty ironic. We love poetic cinema.

He presents himself as a very laid back, chill detached dude, going with the flow and all that great stuff, and masterfully mixes just the right doses of mysterious, flirty and calm to just go around vibing. But ain’t that jUST THE MILLENIAL’S ILLNESS, those dANG KIDS, going around, gettin relationships but never intimacy 👏😢 (there’s more to it dont leave)

First of all, before you see the Drama, the Turmoil, the first thing you notice when you really do befriend him is that he’s c h i l d i s h, he gets sulky when things dont go following the plan, he gets whiny n jealous for not getting attention , he gets competitive over stupid challenges, and way too playful if you start teasing, and when he gets flustered too…you think you get cool stoic dude but actually you get a dude who’s reacting to things with way too much intensity, and boi i thought u were gon be mature what’s that why have you been pouting for three days over losing a bet come on- That’s mostly coming up when he interacts with his sister, but the closest you are to him to more of it you get to see.

He’s also an affectionate dude actually. Like physically. As in you’ll get spontaneous hugs. He’s come nap on your shoulder. That’s a perk of befriending him if you ask me.

Also he tries to look so cool, so tough haha. He’s actually a lil sensitiv boi. he gets fluffy, he gets flustered, he heart eyes. you turn around and he’s gazing at ya as if you were the whole universe. he gets a mini crisis for holding hands with his crush. ya know. he’s secretly a softie.

nerd.

Then in the “what he doesn’t show” (my fave part), where you stock all the anxieties, all the trauma… Obviously there’s a lot of anxiety here (selective muteness being a symptom of it, he hides the other ones very well) mostly fear of inadequacy, of abandonement and of loneliness. mmmmmmmaybe that’s why he was v reticent to continue pursuing that one guy he was into when he realised he was just a tad too into him oh no is that some,, like?? some lovey-love?? cant have that im afraid of gettin heartbroken bro. Aint that sad for a someone who’s one true goal is just findin someone to love and to be with forever, the struggles of yearnin for a soulmate when there’s nothing you fear more than getting attached to a person and letting them see you and your flaws.., delicious.

Now tho (because its so alone speaking about a character on their own and i just wanna get to the part where i can speak bout em together and how they bring out bits of each others ya kno, the good kush….), Dari…

He’s pretty, i must say, and got the funniest hair to draw, and comes from the most opposite background to weiwei’s.

Darian Andriev PARVANOV, also 21, comes from the remote Bulgarian countryside, but i still love him (this makes it sound as if i wouldnt normally love someone from the bulgarian countryside. its not what i meant. by default ud remind me of my son so you’d start being liked if u came from the bulgarian countryside) Now for the first instance of “wow, the complementarity”. The first thing i thought making Dari was that he looked too cool, and that he obviously was a dumbass, and mostly that he was physically unable to shut up. (o fuck he’s me)

best picture i could find of him. He’s got the dilemma of “wow he looked so pretty n cool until he opened his mouth”

He’s ALSO an art student (cause they were initially created for the purpose of filling the gap of “i have ocs in every field except the one i sorta know that’s so stupid”), painting major (def vibes differently than weiwei though, he’s doing those soft pretty landscapes n flowers, everything real pretty and peaceful, we got some impressionism nerd in here folks).

He was/is a real country boy, farm family, he helped tend the fields, he worked in plantations for pocket money, he knows how to take care of cattle and chicken and goats and all the cool babies you can take care of, he can tell whether the soil is good or not, he can drive a tractor, and doesnt fear dirt.

but then also he’s kind of a neat freak, he hates getting paint on himself, so the duality of man, dirt ok but paint? disgostin. his spaces are real neat and spotless, he likes cleaning (its relaxing) and does it nearly too often.

his dumbassery comes from lack of common sense and impulsiveness, aside from that he’s actually what you’d call “mad smart”, dude had em good grades, he can memorise pages upon pages of the most trivial information, he has an accumulation of knowledge beyond limits, and is good at problem solving. so he can recite all the words of the F letter of the dictionnary, but would also put a curling iron in his mouth to see if it would curl his tongue. (side note, he does have a problem with heat n fire, most his “oopsie how i wound up hurting myself on acccident” story involve burning -that stove was just too tempting…)

while he doesnt feel very attached to his home country, he does feel strongly for his family. he’d do anything for his mum (and actually does everything to make her proud already, that’s his one main goal), and he’s ready to sacrifice a lot for her (as in, spend years working non-stop a really uncomfortable job so his mother wouldnt have to pay a cent of his expenses even though she said she could by doing some sacrifices herself,and then being ready to come back as soon as needed if anything happened, and potentially drop his career and dream n go back to the farm life to provide for mama)(also he still does hold onto some parts of his home country’s traditions, and does sometimes feel homesick but more in a ‘i left the most beautiful landscapes n the city feels cramped and claustrophobic and i dont know people and i dont feel in the right place cuz im a forreigner with a thicc accent who doesnt master the language of this place and straight up have different body language communicators due to cultural difference oh lord i wanna be home where a nod means no and a head shake is yes i keep misunderstanding everything”)

if you want background noise he’s the perfect pal to call over, he’s just so chatty, he got hours and hours of non stop speech ready for you. you can shut him up once you’re done listening with the offering of food. works everytime.

he’s definitly not shy. neither in terms of talking to people, nor when it comes to making decisions. he’s quite bold, and rarely hesitates to go towards something he wants. he’s direct in his approach to most everything.

he likes partying. mostly the socialising part, talkin to people is just fun ya feel. and being in the crowd, doing whatever, pressure free? ya can dance n enjoy yourself, and people wont notice? yeah that’s nice. but doesnt do it super often cause broke bitches aint got the party time n budget.

he likes arm. (just an excuse for me to drop this thing here cuz i like it)

While he’s an overall bubbly looking character, with a cheery loud personnality, he does carry some youth trauma that has him more reticent to engage in happiness, he comes from what you could call “not the wokest background” and he may have fallen victim of it : he’s kind of a flashy noticeable character, both physically and in his personnality, and doesnt exactly matches the expectations of dudes in the area he comes from (delicate, emotional and sweet guy? that doesnt exist bro). He went through it, and it has definitly had some impact on his confidence in many aspects. But he’s 100% the type of guy to put on the fake happy front because if feeling bad is sad, making the people you care about sad for you too is Unacceptable Right??? relying on friends?? what???

But then what are we supposed to be doing with such charming characters huh,,,

Make them fall in love obviously.

Their story obviously has to do with falling in love and workin a relationship cause if I dont write romance i literally die, but I make the center pivot of all of it communication, and barriers in communications. Most obvious being them coming from wildly different cultures, having different native languages, and also the ways you adapt to muteness (what i love most bout that part is even then they fucked up given the easiest quickest small body language things to communicate are head nods n then i managed to make one come from the one country that reverses those like iconic how do they even understand each other -through a lot of work and love bro) but also on more “introspective” points, how to say things that you are even afraid to think about, how to open up and share your burdens and trauma with someone, how to say words you’ve been convinced you weren’t allowed to, the inner turmoil of communication in short. And then also communication through art, and through alternative unusual ways. If i were snobbish i could call it something like “a thinkpieces on how humans overcome obstacles in communication, and adapt, all for the sake of pursuing love” but fact is its mostly boys being in love n learning how to speak, figuratively and also quite literally. And also its me having fun with making characters evolve from each other, be able to influence each other for the better, helping each other be more comfortable with themselves and express the true things of their personnality, and discover new aspects. I just wanna write intense and soulful love bro.

So in less concept and more facts, weiwei meets dari, dari being his puppy self just immediatly strikes a conversation and weiwei gets interested cause “oho nice pretty boy? very good. i want some of that”. they get closer because you cant fight off the Power of friendship (and also the power of “what your friend is bestie with my friend?? guess we hanging out”) and then friendship and interest turns into pining, held back by respective dread of what romance with the other would mean (as in “romance?? cant have that we cant feel” and “with him?? cant do that, convince yourself he’s just a friend immediatly what would the family think”) but eventually they do have to just crash into one another cause that’s just the gravitational pull bro, its physics bro. and from then on its all unlearning destructive behaviours, bettering oneself with the help of the other, and getting over trauma to finally live ur best life. and gettin fckin married bro they’re both cheeseballs theyll wanna wed

BUT MAKING EM FALL IN LOVE ONCE ISNT ENOUGH time to make 3894853 alternate universes about em.

Lets speak bout my fave of those for a hot second.

First of all, the one of the art that brought this ask, guess i could call it “Pretty Tribes” AU, bunch of tribes live and do their things, having nature and energy powers. Dari n Weiwei’s tribes are bros, the latter’s powers needing them to move around to get energy from different places, enabling them different abilities. So basically they get to hang at the other’s place while the regenerate energy from there, and in exchange they help them out with various tasks (dari’s tribe is a rly farmer oriented one, with plant magic, while weiwei’s got more poyvalent powers, and have very good healers notably, so it comes in handy). The two boys were born a few months apart in their respective tribes, so naturally, anything the two clans meet, they’re put together to play and all, and from that they became besties, and each time they meet, after the gaps of time separating the two groups, they feel more and more of a little something else~ story is themed round growing up, friendship between clans, their traditions and cultures, and pretty boys in pretty clothes in pretty landscapes interacting with nature.

The superpower AU, i fuckin love it bro. Its an old one, made for other characters, but i just love it so much that i had to inject my faves in it. Its got a grimy ugly setting, bad government, propaganda, and fights between super-people (heavily mediatised for entertainment and reinforcing the idea that “look at these evil villains thank god us the good government protects you from them”), with a side of bad ethics in science. In all that, those two have the role of “those two young enemy warrior and villain, they were so powerful and fought so hard”, public figures, legendary and admired by both sides, everyone followed their fights, til one day they presumably died in one of their showdowns. (haha sike they actually found themselves talking for 5 seconds and realised they lived in a society, n built a plan to run away). The main characters get to find they’re alive because one of em had history with super-warrior-golden-boy and go to seek their help to overthrow the Big Bads. (stealing them from their nice gay cottage hermit life smh so rude)

Mermaids. I like those. Sailor weiwei sees merman dari, they both save each other in different occasions, they grow fascinated with each other, they’re at sea, water romance. Amazing. AU made half cuz i just like water n fish. and shirtless sailors.

(i couldnt find art of it in five minutes so have a link to that lil animatic piece i made of it once)

Indie band AU, where i was listening to songs that vibe so well with those two in general n then my brain was like “what if they’re the ones playing”. They’re (along with the rest of the art squad) a nice little alternative rock band, doing their thing, then one of their songs blows up, and they get quite the attention, to the dismay of dari who wrote that song in a moment of “oh no im so in love with my bandmate but i cant tell him what if i ruin everything we have going on ill just have to love from afar and deal with that” and now has way too many people interested in who he wrote it about and theorising from his every move when performing it (a mix of music, secret crushes and social media) (ft a picture of neither of them but its the least ugly art i found of this AU cuz its old and instruments are the bane of my existence)(also kelana is so pretty i gotta flaunt her around)

in kind of the same vibe, as in we’re in a music world overexposed to social media, i also integrated em to an AU i did for fun, “boyband AU” as its called aka idol based band system cuz you kno, i got a hobby, lets apply it. Band boy Dari and bodyguard Weiwei got a thing going on, but can’t really act on it in any way, because they’d just destroy the whole band if it ever came public. Featuring annoying bandmates, catchy pop songs and people making fanaccounts of that one hot Mr.Bodyguard cause dang he hot.

(all the art of this one so ugly im sorry)

SPY AU, one of my fave brand. They spies, they get assigned on the same mission, they work real nice with each other. spies hot. fights. strategy. i just like the concept. Gays taking down the worst traffics imaginable??? I love that song.(i actually have so much on this cause s p i e s are fuckin great)

Fashion. U kNOW i have an AU for fashion. Supermodel and his private stylist, trying to maintain the line of professionalism. And failing to do so. Lets make out in unpractical designer clothes.

Have an highschool AU for a bunch of characters, injected them as “spinoff”, start chatting online being art buddies, fall in love without meeting (ft. all the iconics of internet friendship like knowing tiny details of their personnalities but not the fact that they have a sister or “waIT ur a GUY i thought u were a girl wow wild good news for my gay ass”)

n those are my faves as far as i remember, i got a fuckton of small other ones that arent fleshed out enough, or some that are more of a guilty pleasure universe, and some that are more like “projects that i can expend on as soon as i run out of daydream material” (like u kno those hospital drama shows with super innacurate medicine n shit like idk scrubs or whatever, yeh i want some of that but im keeping it for later)

#thats way less talk than i thought id do #prolly bc i wrote half of it when it was between midnight and one AM #wait no it was 2 am #but ye #sry if shit messy af #those two are my faves tho n talkin bout em on the spot is hard cuz my brain is screaming about everything bout em at once #if u wanna get more info on em do ask i love them so much n i feel i didnt do em justice here cuz speaking is a fraud words dont exist #im glad they caught ur interest tho #nothin more gratifyin than not being the only bitch who likes his own children

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juncpers-blog · 6 years ago

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i am truly the worst at introductions, so i do want to apologize ahead of time asdfg !! on that note, im gi and i am screaming of excitement right now !! its been a minute since ive been excited for a group, and an already open on at that .. anyway asdfj before i start rambling this right here is my baby face juniper and if you want to know more about her dumb ass please keep on reading !!

╰☆╮ MADISON BEER ─ JUNIPER DUNAY identifies as CISFEMALE and uses SHE AND HER pronouns. they’re a MUSIC ARIST AND SONG WRITER, and they’re only TWENTY ONE ! they’re said to be +ALTRUISTIC, but also -ERRATIC. i guess that’s why they’re known as THE SKOOKUM in the tabloids. (mabel)

trigger warning !! gang mention !! murder mention !!

the synthesis !!

scribbles on empty pages that equal pain, anger, and struggle. words that had only been meant for one, carved themselves into the brunettes skin the moment air filled her lungs for the first time .. screams into the air, she formed into a fear that driven those around her. a fear that was so powerful, it made even a king cower. her king. the daughter of a man who ran an empire, was vowed to be protected along with her four other siblings who stood beside her. but the life of crime and danger always tugged at their skin, forced their claws into their flesh. it was an eat or being eaten lifestyle, and without choice juniper dunay was thrown in the middle of it. it was her bloodline. and while her mother wanted to protect and shelter, her father wanted to toughen her skin and wrap the chains of their gang around her feet. she was forced into situations by loyalty, by the love she had for of those around her, by the drive that was forced within her. but, this lifestyle was not always for her. the constant fear, the murder, the dirty hands, the loss, the pain, and the anger, it sat on her shoulders like boulders. the pain and anger that latched on to her and her siblings wrist troubled their mother, at first it was an itch, and then it was a rash, and then it ate at her flesh. she was barely skin and mostly bone when she decided to take her twin boys, juniper, and her youngest child out of their fathers arms, lifestyle, and curse.

some important extras !! ; these are mostly for me to keep in memory of but can also be used for plots and whatnot !!

despite being a crime family, the dunay had hide behind the socialite title for decades. being something people that, everyone adores but no one can really get their hands on. basically, think of a celebrity family, the kardashians, the westbrooks and how they live. that was the dunays, but tie in gang ties and there you have them.

her mother and father split when juniper was young, and despite them not exactly being in his life anymore they could never truly hide from him nor not be connected to him considering how public their family is.

most people believe the reason for the split, and the children not talking to their father side is because of an affair and despite it not being anywhere near the truth juniper and the rest of them let the media take it and run.

her oldest twin brother, has started to get back into the lifestyle their mother has done everything in her power to keep them out of- yet despite the knowledge and knowing for a fact that its not something he should be in she has kept his secret out of loyalty and has lied countless of times to not only his mother for him, but her other siblings as well as his friends and others in his life.

she once filled out a police report on her father, exposing everything he has and everything he has done. of course, it came from a place of anger and hurt, and a way to get back at him for not being in her the way she wants him to be. she never actually filed this report considering it could have gotten her into a lot of trouble with her father and his gang, not just trouble put could’ve put her on her death bed.

despite the anger and hatred she has for her father, he still sends her along with his three other kids money each month; while one of the twins refuses to touch it and her mother forbids it… she and her two other siblings have used it to benefit them to help build their careers and fund their startups, lifestyle, buy them new cars, spontaneous trips, and anything else they can get their hands on. considering she has made a living for herself now, she usually takes the money he still sends and donates it.

at five years old, juniper had actually witnessed a murder (the reason her mother removed them from her fathers live) and to this day it still lives on in her head. so bad, that she use to have night terrors (and occasionally still does ).

a lot of their time when people ask her about her father, she changes the subject or gives short answers. its always so hard not to expose him and in all reality she’s mostly just stuck in a state of not knowing how to deal with her emotions when it comes to him and their situation.

important career information !! ;

basically, music was something that came rather early in her life. even as a small child, she had the habit of singing everywhere, everything, all the time..

her interest in music only grew as she did, putting herself in piano lessons and guitars lessons from the moment she was able to express her want to do so. of course, she had other hobbies such as soccer and dance but? music was her number one.

after separating from her father, her mother kind of pushed her children into normal things? encouraged them to do whatever they want. and so, at sixteen when she told her she wanted to be a singer her mom did everything in her power to make that happen.

her already having created a fanbase from just being a ‘socialite’ breaking out into new industries was?? easier then most have it.

a year later, age seventeen, juniper released her first single ‘my boy, my town’ that peaked number one on the charts for three weeks.

she has been singing ever since, and of course growing and learning as a person and an artist. she is currently writing her second album.

personality !! ;

compassionate, hard loving and big hearted.

she goes above and beyond the limits for those she loves and feels deeply for.

she will burry your secrets so you dont have to, jump in the darkest of waters with you so you dont have to fight them yourself, will pull you into chaotic nights to keep your mind from straying to all the bad things in life.. she is a giver.

trust issues are wrapped around her neck, clawing at her flesh. they are heavy on her shoulders, along with the ones she formed from her toxic relationship with her dad. she can be difficult is all.

she refuses to let anything or anyone defend her and with that, you can nine out of ten times see her ebullient soul forcing its way out of her.

she is always a super playful person, alway has to be teasing someone.

she wants to give people around her home and comfort, someone they can depend on.

she is guarded, but its only because she feels everything so deeply.

once she lets you in, you’re in forever. but when she hurts, she really hurts and when you cross that line you cross that line.

which is funny because she hates attachment but often finds herself getting attached to people.

she is always on the move !! like if she isnt in the studio shes writing . if she isnt writing she is dragging her friends on trips across the world, endless parties. she seeks excitement, and things to keep her away from her thoughts.

she holds grudges, and anger.

you really cant be just anyone to get another chance after doing her wrong.

shes passionate, ambitious, stubborn, sarcastic.

shes a affectionate drunk, let her live asdfg.

meaningful relationships really mean a lot to her? like she just longs meaningful connections with others.

she honestly?? just wants to live life to the fullest??

shes also annoying as fuck just a warning ASDFGH

not personality related but !! close friends and family usually call her june and/or juni !!

please, i absolutely love plotting? and am opening to so many different ideas and connections and everything else. dont be afraid to throw anything at me!! you can find some of her wanted connections here !! and of course know that i can expand on any of these and still have a whole lot more if you dont see anything on there that you like !! so with that, like this to post? or jump the gun and come message me!!

#excessintro #gang mention tw #murder mention tw #drug mention tw #i think thats all !!#let me know if i forgot anything !!#im super excited !!#connections are at the bottom !!#ヽ✴・ﾟ 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖘 ◜ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 .

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bleusarcellewrites · 8 years ago

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Unwavering Devotion // Chap 1

I’m just gonna leave this here, yes, hi, excuse me, bent fic for me to unstress myself and write something silly and simple and trashy, excu se moi.

Nothing much to say? Klance Flower Shop Au ft. Pining Keith, Bad In Comunication Lance and Teasing Older Brother Shiro!

Ps; Sorry if Keith sounds OOC....but I don’t give a shh; this is my playtime fic. A L S O; LONG POST.

Ps.2; Excuse any typos...and stuff. yeah.

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me.

The lonely half worn out rose lay on the wooden counter.

“Cough, cough.” It says in a high pitched voice, “I’m...I’m dying and I ...will never see my beloved one last time.”

Suddenly, from the bottom of the counter, a small bluebell flower pops its head and shakes as it catches the sight of the fallen rose.

“My rose!” It shouts, voice deep and scratchy, “No! Who has done this! I will kill them all! I swear on my tiny life!”

“My bell…” Rose whispers in awe and hope, “My bell, you have come to delight me with your presence in my last seconds in this world, how noble.”

Bell shakes as if in disbelief, “No! Stop talking like that! You will survive! You - You have to –! There must be someth –!”

A sudden sharp agonized shout coming from Rose cuts it off abruptly and Bell watches in horror as another petal is ripped out from its lover.

“No…” Bell whispers terrified, “No!”

“The madman is back.” Rose whispers weakly, trying to rise up from the floor before flopping back limply, “Please….run, before he catches you, it’s too late for me.”

“But –!” Bell tries to protest but a big wide shadow suddenly takes over and both flowers just stay still as the threateningly figure of the pale hand hovers above them dangerously.

“I love you.” Rose whispers softly before the pale hand picks it up and starts pulling out its reminding dark weak petals, no longer holding its vivid red color it once had.

“No!” Bell cries out as it falls to the surface of the counter in defeat, watching in despair as its lover takes its last breath in the hands of a monster, “Goodbye...my rose.”

“Keith!”

The nineteen years old jumps in surprise, his dark blue eyes wide in surprise as he drops both flowers in his hands and turns his head to meet his big brother’s unamused eyes.

“Uh…” He says incoherently, wiping the flowers behind his back off the counter to hide his play time, “Yeah, I’m working.”

Shiro snorts. “Sure, buddy. Bell says otherwise.”

Keith looks back at the counter and frowns when he notices that the Bluebell flower is hanging on the edge of it.

“You tattle tale.” He mumbles and Shiro laughs.

“That's what happens when you keep killing its lover.” Shiro declares, closing the back door of their inventory behind him, “Why do you keep killing Rose anyways?”

“Because it's ironic!” Keith says shrugging with a small playful smile, “Bluebell is the one who always dies first, Rose needs to die from time to time!”

“Whatever you say, buddy.” Shiro laughs, dusting his apron distractedly before he raises his eyes and grins at Keith, “Alright, playtime is over, you have a customer, Mr. Rose.”

Keith scoffs at the nickname and resist the urge to flip his brother off before he turns to meet the customer.

Bluebell.

Keith blinks a few times to come back to present and even then, the blue eyes that remind him of the Bluebell flower are still staring at him, curious and with a hint of amusement.

Keith’s almost 100% sure Shiro turned the air conditioner because he’s suddenly hot and what the actual fuck.

“Uh…” Bluebell starts and Keith scolds at himself in his mind when he realizes he already has a nickname for the brunet in front of him, “Hello.”

He hears Shiro’s muffled laughter behind him as he leaves the room and retreats to the back room. Keith makes a mental note to kick his brother later.

“Yes, hi!” Keith answers finally, right after he pushes down the butterflies in his stomach, “Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you today?”

Bluebell scratches the back of his head nervously and bites his lower lip as he looks away from him.

“Well, I uh...I basically fucked up big time this morning you know,” He sighs, dropping his shoulders sadly, “I was having a bad morning before work and I was really mean and such an ass towards a beautiful woman and I wanted a way to apologize.”

‘Dont pout’ Keith tells himself in his head, ‘He’s straight. That’s fine. Just don’t pout. Don’t pout. Don’t fucking pout, Kogane.’

“Of course.” He answers, forcing himself to smile as he walks around the counter and stand besides Bluebell, “That’s a nice thing do, sir –”

“Uh, please, call me Lance, dude.” Bluebell says and Keith is this close to pout because he liked the nickname already, “No need for formalities, you’re basically my age, man.”

Lance smiles and Keith needs a moment to remember how to breathe.

Keith blinks and ignores the way his heart flutters at the sight of Lance’s bright face before he smiles back softly, a little more genuine this time. “Alright, Lance. I’m Keith.”

Lance raises his hand towards him and shakes it firmly.

“Nice to meet you, Mullet.”

“Mu –What?”

This is what he gets for naming people with nicknames in his mind.

“Yeah, Mullet!” Lance answers cheerfully, “I can totally see that tiny pony tail being a mullet, you don’t fool me.”

Keith just stares.

“I don’t have a mullet.” He deadpans and Lance waves him off playfully.

“Okay, Mullet.” Lance smirks as he walks away towards the corner of the room and starts eyeing the flowers there. “Do you know if these will be okay? Do they work as a ‘sorry I was an ass earlier’ flower?”

Keith laughs. “Yeah, sure.” He answers, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his fingers against his forearms.

They do not work as that.

Or maybe they do but Keith has no shitting clue if it’s true because he know shit about flowers and their meaning.

Shiro tried. Oh, God, did he try but no matter what he did, Keith would just not pick up his brother’s passion for flowers. Did Keith think that flowers were pretty? Of course, sure, whatever. Did Keith know that he was not supposed to bring a white flower to the hospital because it means ‘death’?

Of course he didn’t but that’s not the point.

Lance arches an eyebrow at him in question, “Are you sure?” He asks suspicious and Keith shifts under his gaze.

“Psh, yeah!” He says, waving his hand in the air nonchalantly, “Of course they work. They are pink, see? They totally work for an apology.”

Lance purses his lips, narrows his eyes at him and turns back to the flower.

Lance reads slowly the displayed name, repeating it under his breath in wonder before picking up one of the pink flowers gently. He looks it over for a second before turning his head and reading the displayed named of the flowers next to them, repeating the action from before.

Keith watches him from the side, eyes growing soft as he sees the way Lance inspects the two flowers in concentration, as if making sure that they were the best of the best. His bright royal blue eyes entirely captivated by the two flowers and Keith’s heart melts at the satisfied smile that appears on Lance’s face a few seconds later after he finishes his inspection.

His girlfriend sure was lucky, Keith can’t help but think with a light hint of jealously.

“Well, they are cute enough.” Lance declares, side eyeing Keith with a smirk, “Are you sure they are meant for apologies?”

Keith scoffs and puts a hand on his hip and grins daringly. “Okay, who is the florist here? You or me?”

That earns him a shit eating grin and Keith knows. He just knows that he shouldn’t have said that.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Florist.” Lance says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Then I’m going to take these two beauties, please.”

Keith nods pleased, because he needs to pretend he still got this under control, and takes the flowers from Lance’s hand.

He turns around quickly, heading towards the counter in hopes that Lance hadn’t noticed the dark blush on his face as soon as their skin touched.

He’s a mess. Keith has to bite the inside of his cheek before he feels ready to talk and his blush only gets worse when he hears Lance’s soft laughter behind him.

“That will be six dollars, si - Lance.”

“Thank you for the flowers, Keith.” Lance says brightly as he takes the small simple bouquet of two flowers from Keith’s hands and Keith has to suppress the shiver that goes down his back when their fingers touch.

“You - You are welcome.” Keith says, smiling sheepishly and Lance hums at him.

“Say, what was their name again?” He asks mischievously and Keith eyes widen in surprise.

Like hell if Keith knows but he won’t tell that to Lance.

He can always Google the flowers later.

Or ask Shiro.

No, Google is the better option for sure.

“We both know the answer to that.” Keith answers, faking smugness and confidence as he leans forward on the counter and hoping that Lance doesn't notice the blunt tiny white lie, “I’m a florist, remember?”

Yeah, you have been for three weeks now, genius.

“That you are.” Lance confirms, his eyes roaming all over Keith’s face before meeting his eyes again, “See you around, Mullet.”

“Uh, y-yeah, I guess? Bye…” The brunet is out of the door before he can even finish his sentence, “Heh, Bluebell.” Keith finishes softly, letting out a sigh as he watches Lance’s form disappear down the street.

Not a second later, Shiro’s popping his head from the back door, a curious pout on his lips.

“So, Mr. Florist, did you notice that you sold him a carnation that meant regret and another one that means mother’s love, right?” He asks, a smug playful smirk on his lips and he laughs as he watches his little brother freezes in realization.

“They...are pink though?” Keith tries, smiling sheepishly when his brother facepalm himself with his flesh hand.

“Yeah, like your face when you saw ‘Bluebell’.”

“Oh my god, go back to your cave in the back of the store, go!”

“Does this mean your playtime Bleubell is now named Lance?”

“Go away, Shiro!”

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