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queenimmadolla · 2 years

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𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ─ 𝐏.𝐈𝐈.

masterlist ─ part one • part three summary: . . .after Friday night's events, you and Eddie figure out exactly where you stand.

chapter warnings: pining, angst, misunderstanding, confirmed that Eddie fucks but not you in this part, insecurity, mentions of Eddie w/others, angst, friends to lovers, tw:wilderness therapy, references to "legal" abduction, PTSD. a/n: sorry for the length, wanted to put as much angst in this chapter so we could get to the good stuff in part 3. . no keep reading tab due to Tumblr removing content from the post (if you know a solution, please let me know) whenever I utilize it so happy scrolling lol. let me know if I missed any triggers. daisy edgar-jones is who I imagine eddie's mom to look like, so you can keep that in mind when reading if you want. took some inspo from fleabag. word count: 8.5k 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭. ─────

The sleepover was a bust. Judy had spent most of the night bummed, and so did you but you kept that to yourself as you tried to cheer her up. She hadn’t really been in the mood to talk about it. Part of you wanted to tell her about what happened—or didn’t happen—with Eddie, but the prideful part of yourself that was hurting over this demanded you keep it a secret, like telling someone else would open the flood gates. Of course, that had everything to do with the fact that you knew you’d probably tear up and then cry, inevitably making yourself even more sad. It had only been Friday night, which meant you’d have to try and survive the weekend crying instead of enjoying it. So you kept it to yourself. And still ended up having a shitty weekend because of course you still fucking thought about it. Actively thought about it. It was going so good, what had you done wrong to make it go south like that? Needless to say, going to school the following Monday, had been a lot harder than it normally was. Usually, you threw off the blankets and dove for your closet to get ready for Eddie—even though he definitely didn’t know nor appreciate your attempts at catching his attention—but today, was different. Today was full of possibilities.

The way you saw it, Eddie could have come to his senses over the weekend and approach you sometime to pick up where you left off. Of course, with your luck that would most definitely probably not happen. He could ignore you for the whole day. Which, because of your luck, would probably happen. The only neutral possibility, would be for him to continue treating you the way he had before Friday night. Just a couple of passing ‘hellos’ as he whisks past you, while you want nothing more than to stare after him.

Jesus. You were practically dragging yourself around on the fucking ground for someone who probably didn’t even think of you in his free time! You wished you could just find a way to turn your feelings off. Life would be so much easier. The face staring back at you through the mirror looked miserable as you got ready, rushing through the motions. You had woken up pretty early, but it was nearly impossible for you to ever be on time to school and this morning proved to be no different. Normally, you didn’t mind being late. You were sheepish and charming enough with your teachers to get away with, maybe it had become routine to them. But being late meant usually walking into class after it had started. All eyes would be on you as you walked through that door to first period. The class you shared with one Edward Munson. No fucking way were you about to be put on the spot like that with your mental state today. After several rolling stops, and some definite speeding, you had managed to hurry your way into class just as the last bell rang.

Most of the class was present, but still getting settled meaning no one was paying you any attention. Or at least you hoped no one was, because you weren’t brave enough to look the classroom over, making a beeline for your table towards the front of the class. Phew, crisis avoided. You’d never been more happy about Eddie’s group sitting somewhere behind you, before. Like, ever.

Your anxiety was through the roof with all this flip flopping from wanting to see him to wanting to hide from him. You didn’t want to admit to yourself that you were afraid of getting the answer you didn’t want.

The relief lasted for all of about five minutes before your teacher was asking to pass the homework up front, and you stared stupidly up at the chalkboard because you knew exactly where your homework was.

In your locker. You’d shoved most of your things in there, but in your haste to still make it to class somewhat on time, you hadn’t taken the time to gather what you would need. Fuck. Again. With a heavy sigh, you raised your hand and waited for your teacher to acknowledge you. “I left it in my locker. Can I go get it?” You couldn’t miss turning in your math homework, you tested terribly, but since you cheated on your homework, you kind of depended on it to keep your B in class.

Mrs. Boucher simply nodded, and you darted out of the class, hoping you didn’t draw too much attention. Miles Andrade wasn’t all that happy about your escape though. “Hey—why does she get to go get her stuff when she forgets it? You never let me!” “You don’t come back.” His groan seemed to distract most of the class as they laughed at him, and you smirked as the door shut behind you. Once you managed to get the stupid combination lock to your locker open (which you struggled with constantly), you shifted through your textbooks until you found your math book and tugged the assignment out without opening or retrieving the actual book. You wouldn’t be able to focus on it, anyways, so you’d just be listening to today’s lecture.

You heard the squeak of a sneaker against the ground in the distance and silently cursed yourself at the realization that you hadn’t grabbed the hall pass before you’d left the classroom. To be fair, it seemed to be an unspoken rule amongst the teachers to make the hall pass as inconvenient as possible. Mrs. Boucher’s was a traffic cone. Whatever, you figured if worse came to worse, Eden’s little sister Suzie—the hall monitor— would stop you and escort you back to class so you could prove you had permission. She wasn’t liked very much by Seniors. Or Juniors. Or Sophomores. The freshman had no choice, she used her power over them to keep them in compliance. You respected that. You shut your locker, ignoring the flare of disappointment when you didn’t see Eddie on the other side. Not sure why you had the hope that he would be in the back of your head, but it looked like like you’d probably heard Suzie after all. Maybe she’d gone down the other hall. Suzie didn’t mind chasing after runners, you’d witnessed it on several occasions, but if you could just get past the girls’ bathroom before she noticed you, you could make a break for it and beat her back to your class before she could embarrass you. With a solid escape plan, you turned to head back into the direction you came and jumped, hand flying to your chest as you nearly managed to avoid walking right into Eddie’s chest. “Oh, geez!” Eddie’s hands darted up in surrender, lips curling into his trademark smirk as he eyed you in amusement. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just using the good ol’ public laboratory.”

You could only nod like an idiot, scared to voice anything else for fear of disturbing the standstill you two had going on. Or rather, that you had with him. He probably didn’t even care and that made you sad. You watched as the smirk faded away, his tongue poking out to run briefly over his top lip. It was definitely the observer in you, but for a moment, you were sure his cocky persona melted away. And suddenly, he was giving you that same look you’d cherished in the back of his van; big brown eyes wide, but fixated on you. His mouth opened once. Then twice, and he broke eye contact (you held it again!).

“Uhm, hey. So, about Friday. You don’t have to-uh. . . It was nothing. You’re all good.” His smile was nervous but still had that Eddie brightness. Wasn’t any comfort to your shattering hopes. It was nothing. Of course.

Of fucking course it was nothing, because to him you were just another walking body in the background. You might have taken notice of him, but he hadn’t really known you. You had really thought that reading a couple of the same books and noticing you in what was most definitely an attention drawing costume meant he’d payed special attention to you. So what if he had noticed your disappearance for a school year? Clearly, it had just been an observation of his. God, you really set yourself up for this one. Should’ve just left the party when you had realized you forgot your lighter. FUCK.

“Oh.” Was all you could actually breathe out. You were impressed with how strong your voice was, didn’t betray your actual emotions though you could feel something deep in you shaking, something in you unstable at the rejection you were suddenly faced with. “Okay!” You walked right past him to get back to class, trying to keep it together as you cursed yourself in your head for being stupid over and over and over again. Your assignment was placed on a pile with the others, and you slipped into your seat with an annoyed mumble. The day proved to be agonizing. You’d fought for your life to appear invisible the rest of first period, hightailing it the hell out of there the second the bell rang. The rest of your classes provided you with no sanctuary. Hadn’t learned a single thing as you fidgeted, willing the minutes to go by faster. Time wasn’t going to cooperate with you, and all the talking and crowds just made it worse. Lunch would be your deciding factor. If eating with your friends managed to make you feel better, you’d stay. You guys usually only spent a couple of minutes in the cafeteria before heading to the parking lot to hang out in one of your cars. If you still felt as manic after, then you’d just ditch your last two classes and go home. Of course, you would actually need to walk into the cafeteria to accomplish either. Staring through one of the rectangular windows of the cafeteria doors that usually remained shut—the ones directly across from them were considered the main entrance—you could see Eddie’s curly head poking out from amongst his table. You turned your head and could see Judy’s long, honey colored hair on the other side of the cafeteria, where you guys sat for your brief time there. You knew from your seat, you’d have an ideal view of Eddie and that probably wouldn’t be good for you today.

Maybe you could just wait for them in the hall. “What are you doing?” “JESUS!” You jumped as your heart nearly stopped, flipping around to face Eden. “I didn’t hear you coming, what are you doing on this side anyways?” You tried to immediately redirect the conversation before she could ask anymore questions. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, eyes scanning over you. You tried to appear nonchalant, but you knew she could see right through you. “Nancy finally let us go. And this entrance is much closer. You never answered my question.” Eden was an advice columnist for the school newspaper. Her brutal honesty was good for more than just hurting feelings. “I just wanted to see if somebody was already in there, before going in. Look, I’ll tell you and Judy more later, but I’m trying to be inconspicuous here.” And you would tell them later. Now that you got your confirmation, it was time to vent. “Oh, inconspicuous,” She repeated, nodding in understanding. Then, because this was Eden, she slammed the doors wide open. You winced as you heard them make impact with the cafeteria walls, but Eden payed them no mind as she made her way over to the table. Heads were already turning in your direction, so with a quick curse, you hurried to catch up with her. “Thanks for being inconspicuous, you bitch.” You hissed, with no real malice, as you moved to sit in the seat next to her. She just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “You good?” Judy asked, eyebrows furrowing as her gaze flickered between the two of you. “She’s having boy trouble.” Eden answered, sitting tensely in the cafeteria chairs. Her stiff posture in public always made your back hurt. “Okay, how the hell did you know that?” It scared you how perceptive she could be, and all she’d seen was you looking through a shitty window. “I just can.”

“Is it Eddie?” Judy leaned across the table, trying to not look as interested as she was. You opened your mouth to try and steer the conversation, but Eden again beat you to it. “Munson? Really?” “Oh, yeah, they were in the back of his van together at Steve’s party on Friday.” Oh, god. “Shut the fuck up, Eddie had her in his van?” “Mhm. Nothing happened though, they weren’t all sweaty. He gave her the cold shoulder, right after, too. I went out to find her after I got into it with Steve.” “Okay!” You finally piped in, glancing at the rest of the occupants of the table. You sat with a few other cheerleaders—the guys, specifically—but other than Judy and her younger sister Clover, none of you really liked each other enough to pay your conversations any mind. Still, you’d rather not test that today. “Lets go, we are so not talking about this in here.” You all gathered your things and left the cafeteria in favor of the parking lot. Judy’s Bronco was the most spacious out of all your cars, so that’s where you spent the rest of lunch, curled into the passenger seat while Eden was sprawled out on the backseat.

“Would you guys have kissed?” Eden asked after you had told them the whole story, including today’s uncomfortable hallway confrontation. “On Friday, I mean. Before, Killjoy over here ruined it.” Judy groaned from her place, leaning back against the driver’s door. “I already apologized, and I would also like to reiterate that it was not me who forced him to act like she wasn’t even there when I showed up.” “I think so.” You could remember how close he was, how you could feel his breath on your lips, it had felt very much so like you were gonna get kissed. “I just can’t wrap my mind around why he’d act like that, though. It’s like someone flipped a switch.”

“He probably didn’t want it to be a public thing. Like with Jenna Clark.” That caught your attention. Jenna was on your cheer squad, a pretty strawberry blonde who spent a lot of time with the jocks, something you couldn’t really stomach too long considering how douche-like a lot of them were.

She also had a nice rack. You were pretty sure, they came with a recovery plan, because there was no way she grew those during summer break. “What does she have to do with anything?” You could feel that sense of dread forming in your stomach again. “She and Eddie hooked up last month. I heard her telling Sylvia about it in the locker room. Their whole thing was very mums the word, but his hook ups always are. Pretty sure he had a thing with Crystal and Andie, too.” At your silence, Judy glanced up and you could see the moment she realized maybe you were a little more invested in Eddie than you were letting on, she got this concerned look on her face, and leaned forward to take your hand. “Sweetie,” Boy, did it feel like your heart was meant to just fucking shatter today. “I’m only telling you this because I want you to be aware, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. It’s like, it’s kind of a known thing in the squad. That he has a thing for cheerleaders. And they might think he’s a freak but… but I’m pretty sure—“ “They think he’s hot.” You finished for her, gripping onto her hand. So, the good thing was your mania had definitely subsided. Bad news, it was replaced by a sense of numbness. Maybe it was because you like to torture yourself, but your mind flashed back to all those times you’d seen him be cordial and polite to some of the girls on the squad, how you had been sure at the time it was just part of his personality to flirt, how chivalrous he was. You could remember Jenna Clark and Alyssa Peters walking past Eddie during one of his rants, and you thought you imagined the way his eyes seemed to have followed her. It had been a very brief glance, but now that you knew of his…interests, you knew better. “I,” You sighed out, leaning back so your head hit the window. “Am really fucking stupid.” Judy and Eden both protested in your defense.

“We’re not saying don’t go for it, maybe he was just giving you an out if you wanted one,” Eden offered up. “But if you don’t want an out, clearly he was interested and you meet the qualifications, so you can mess around. You can still swap spit with him, after all .” “No,” There was no hiding how upset you were, or more so sad than anything. “I don’t want to meet the qualifications, I don’t want to just swap spit with him, and I don’t want to be just another whatever to him.”

The rest of lunch was spent with your two best friends attempting to comfort you. When the bell rang, they went to class. You went home.

Your mom was a night nurse and your father was a supervisor at the plant, conveniently also at night. They usually got home right about when you and your little brother got up for school, and then they’d go to bed once you’d leave. They were still asleep when you got home, so it made it pretty easy to go undetected. You stayed in your room for the remainder of the night with the resolve that you’d force yourself to get the fuck over it. The rest of the week blurred by. Your time at school was spent avoiding Eddie at all costs, other than your shared class, you wanted no contact with him. No more seeing him in passing, no more staring at him in the cafeteria, you were cutting yourself off cold turkey. Rather than meet up with Eden and Judy before lunch, you immediately started eating in your car and would just wait for them to show. Undoing all the changes you had made to your daily life schedule so you could get little glimpses at him in the first place proved to be difficult. You had used to love the fact that you made it so you passed him pretty frequently in-between your classes, but now you had to go out of your way to avoid certain routes and time your classroom exits just right. Every time you felt like you had finally managed to find a good alternative route, he’d suddenly pop up in it. You were gonna need to bring an inhaler for the amount of times you’d had to double back and still get to your classes before the final bell.

Cheer practice was somehow worse. Down-bad-you from the past had thought changing the time you drank water in-between reps was insignificant, but as time went on, your body had become accustomed to exactly when it was you decided to rehydrated, and varsity cheer was no fucking joke, especially as a flyer. Since you had timed your water breaks to match up with Eddie leaving Hellfire, you thought it would be easy peasy to just wait for the guy to get in his van and drive off, but no. In fact, he seemed to have developed a habit of just sitting in his van for ten minutes before he left. Those ten minutes that you avoided going over to the side of the field where you all had to leave your things—including your big ass water bottle—were usually spent in the early stages of hallucination. You swore you almost passed out once.

But it was worth it, because you stuck to your metaphorical guns. Your friends were proud of you, and while you still felt shitty—‘out of sight, out of mind’ doesn’t apply to Metal Heads who go out of their way to keep you company while you’re coming down from a high and make you feel special without being creepy—you did feel better about knowing your worth, and not settling for anything less than what you deserved.

You managed to keep it up for two whole freaking weeks. The longer it went on, the easier it became to ignore the aches in your chest that stubbornly refused to go away. Home life got a little more complicated as well. For some god-awful reason, your grandmother had moved out of her old folk’s home and into yours. You would have had no problem with that except she’s the reason behind most of your trauma and a raging bitch. She was one of those women who lived and breathed the idea that men were the superior of the sexes and a woman’s place was at his beck and call. It was also apparent in her treatment of you and your little brother, Timmy.

She treated him like he was the second fucking coming of Ritchie Valens, and you like you were fucking Cinderella. Back when she watched you while your parents worked, you’d been forced to scrub the house from top to bottom, but the moment Timmy became old enough to do chores, all she did was force him to relax and watch cartoons. She’d also been the one to convince your parents to do what they did. To let them take you like that. Ugh, fuck, you were so not going down that road. You had to give up your room on the bottom floor in favor of the upstairs free room, on the opposite side of the house. With that much distance between you and the hag, you were happy to. Plus, it was on the dipping side of your large, shed style home so you could easily use the tree near your window to sneak in and out as you pleased. That’s how you had escaped your home after your parents had left for work. Saturday night found you at Betty Jean’s house, packed with bodies, beer, and some very water downed vodka. Clearly, some of the guys had been duped, but the music was spectacular, the tequila was legit so everyone was having a good time. Except you. You looked the part, lips curved into a gentle smile, courtesy of the weed you had used to hot box your bug. Not nearly enough to have you loopy, but you were slightly more relaxed.

Judy couldn’t get out of her shift at the arcade, and Eden was babysitting her siblings with her boyfriend, Argyle. You weren’t keen on spending your valuable weekend time with that old bitch, so you’d decided to stick with a couple of the other girls from cheer that you could tolerate. They’d been droning on and on about who was gonna ask who to the winter formal—still months away—and who would be crowned snowflake queen and king. You had just started zoning out when a girl brushed past you to get to the chips, the smell of weed wafting into your nose. Not just any weed; some very strong smelling weed.

That could only mean Eddie was nearby. Suddenly, the entire atmosphere felt stifling as you feared a possible run in. What would you do? What would you say? Nope. You abandoned the gross beer you’d been sipping on the counter and pushed your way out the front door, taking a few moments to calm yourself once outside. Betty Jean had a huge front yard complete with a water fountain that put most malls to shame and just so happened to look like a really nice sitting spot, so you helped yourself, staring down at your moonlight enhanced reflection. It was a pretty peaceful atmosphere. The music was muffled, there was a nice little breeze going on, could have turned out to be a good night after all. “That’s three parties, now.” Came a voice from behind you, and your heart once more seized before restarting once you recognized who the voice belonged to. “Jesus, Eddie!” You shifted around to face the house and the boy leaning against it.

He gave you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry. Guess, I’m used to treading lightly.” It was so bad, but you couldn’t help the way you wanted to smile. You didn’t because you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, but you wanted to. An awkward silence followed, and your gaze dropped to the grass as a sense of uneasiness filled you. You had thought it was just you who felt. . . some kind of way about your predicament, but there was tension coming from him, too. It’s why you couldn’t look up at him, you knew if you did, you’d find him staring daggers into your soul. “How are you?”

“A-Alright, I guess. How are you?” God, it was painful. “You’re avoiding me.” Okay, that’s definitely not an answer to your question. You hadn’t even expected him to notice.

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it and maybe gaslight him a little when the intensity of his stare stopped you. It was a face you were familiar with, and not in a good way. It was the unreadable one, the one he’d quickly morphed into when Judy had yanked open those van doors, bursting in on your moment. Guarded. He knew you were going to lie. Was expecting it. No point in it now. “Yes.” Eddie didn’t say anything right away, just kept staring at you. Then he nodded, finished with whatever mental conversation he’d been having with himself. “Was it something I did?” He finally asked. You thought about lying again, then remembered he’d see right through it, somehow.

“Yes.” He didn’t look happy with the answer, and before he could respond, you continued, spurred on by a burst of bravery. “It didn’t feel like nothing. You said it was, but it didn’t feel like that to me. I’m not naive enough to say that it was like fireworks or something, because we haven’t even physically touched, but it felt a lot like something was gonna happen. Not nothing. Even when you couldn’t look at me after, it still didn’t. Of course, now I know why it meant nothing to you. Just another cheer skirt, right?” Eddie’s guarded expression fell away, surprise taking its place as he soaked in the words you couldn’t take back. At least you hadn’t told him about your little admiration problem. “What? No!” You scoffed, turning back around to face the fountain. “I know all about Jenna and Crystal and Andie. If you want to make your way through the cheer roster, that’s fine, good for you really,” Though in your head, you begged him not to do that, it would hurt your feelings really badly and probably have a lasting impression on you for the rest of your life. “But I’m a little too invested in you to just bend over and stand up every once in a while. So, that’s why I’m avoiding you.” You got up, ready to make a dramatic exit. You didn’t even get to take two steps when he had you stopping. “I didn’t know about your investment.” “What?” “You said you’re too invested in me to just fuck, right?” Oh, god. Sure, you had implied it but you didn’t say it. You had to get away from him and you had to do it fast. “I didn’t know that.” He used his foot to push himself away from the house, towards you. You couldn’t move. “I don’t know if it’s something about the hair, but I just seem to attract girls who force merriness on people. I’m not trying to go through the whole cheer group-’’ “Squad.” You corrected. “-squad. Jenna and Andie happened. But it was purely transactional with Crystal. Not that kind of transactional.” You knew he was a dealer, but for some reason your mind went flying to prostitution. “And I might attract them, but they didn’t really wanna parade around with the school pariah, you know? It was just sex. Whatever it is we had going on, they wanted it to mean nothing, which I was fine with. And I-uh, assumed, you would too. Only I could tell you were ignoring me the second you walked into Mrs. Boucher’s on Monday. Then, when I caught up to you in the hallway, you didn’t even look like you wanted to talk to me. So I figured you weren’t interested.”

Oh, how wrong he was. You played with the rings on your fingers, nipping at your lower lip. “I wouldn’t say that.” You gaze returned to the water fountain as he neared you. If you had kept your attention on him, you would have seen the the subtle change in him, would have seen him perk up.

“I think you’re really cool, Eddie. I always have. Thought you might have thought the same about me in the van, then you got taken over by the pod people when Judy came around. Figured you might have been embarrassed of me or something, so I tried to avoid you at school after. Only it’s surprisingly hard to.” Your heart fluttered when he chuckled. “I’ve been chasing you around since.” He admitted, now right freaking in front of you. “I know I said it was nothing, but it wasn’t. Not to me, either. See, the thing is I’ve had this crush on you since my sophomore year. It only got worse when you started acknowledging my existence when we’d pass each other or see each other at school. When you stopped showing up, I thought you’d moved away and I was so fucking sad, man. Then you came back, suddenly the world had light to it again.” Eddie didn’t mention how you seemed to lack that light when you returned to school; how his outbursts got more frequent that year in an attempt to make you laugh since you looked to unhappy. “All those little hellos, waves, and smiles? They got me through a lot. Hell—if you weren’t in first period now, I wouldn’t even bother showing up.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Don’t you need to graduate?” “Well, yeah. But I’m pretty good at mathematics, I don’t really bother with the homework, usually just ace the tests she gives. Yours truly has a B in that class. It’s the rest that fuck with me. I show up to see you, not to do any actual work.” You shook your head, lips stretching up into a smile as you turned away from him in an attempt to keep him from observing it.

“I didn’t think you’d want your friends to know. That’s just how it usually goes.” He continues, his voice sounding unusually quiet, timid.

The urge to comfort and reassure him is too strong. Despite the racing of your heart—desperately hoping for something to happen, no doubt—you didn’t move away. In fact, you met his eyes and the vulnerability in them took your breath away. He wasn’t guarded anymore. Not right then. Not with you. They were pleading for you to understand. You did. You’ve seen what he’d been subjected to, the cruel and unwarranted (mostly) treatment and taunting. A few physical fights and more harassment than most people would ever experience. The occurrences had dropped significantly that year, but still. The Social Hierarchy is something that Hawkins would probably never be able to outgrow. You couldn’t blame most people for being victims to it, either. You had once been swept up in it. Had he been interacting with the sophomore year you—the first time, not the second—he would have been correct. You’d been engulfed in the popularity construct. Not necessarily popular, but desperate to save any kind of face. That meant you wouldn’t have been able to be seen with Eddie in any sort of public setting. That wasn’t you anymore. “I don’t care if people know. Besides, my friends aren’t the kind to care about the kind of stuff.” Eden was also considered an outcast and a frequent victim of Payton Alabaster, the meanest bitch (and you meant ‘mean’ in a mediocre mean girl type of way, you had no trouble putting her in her place) in school. Labeled a ‘basket case’ for her defiance against her family’s religion as well as all the dark clothes she wore, Eden was also one of your best friends and you‘d be damned if you let anyone’s wrong opinion of her keep you away. She actually reminded you a lot of Eddie.

“That’s a first for me.” Eddie finally choked out after a few moments of silence. He slipped past you, making sure to brush against your side, as he took a seat on the fountain. You watched as he pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, slipping one out and between his lips. He gestured to the spot next to him as he lit it.

Despite your hatred for the smell of cigarettes, you sat down next to him, eyes dancing over his illuminated features. Who knew when you’d get the chance again? You were definitely still a little high, if you were being this brave. “What are you doing?” He asked, smiling around the cigarette.

“I’m admiring you.” Like you’d done so many times from afar. It felt like you were healing something in you to be able to do it this close. “Admiring me?” He sounded overtly incredulous as he pulled the cigarette away to exhale the smoke into the night air. “What exactly is there to admire this time around?” Initially, you wanted to play coy. You were never one to feed a mans ego, most of your affection was shown through your teasing, and honestly you didn’t like being vulnerable. But you had a feeling Eddie had rarely received praise.

“A lot, actually. Beyond your edgy fashion sense, and your pretty hair, your eyes are the first thing that catch my attention. They’re stupid pretty. Like illegally so. There’s this saying that eyes are like the windows to emotion or something, and I always thought that was fucking stupid ‘cause I can hide my emotions really well; however, when I look at yours, I can get a read on how you’re feeling. They give you away. And they’re so very Bambi like.” His eyebrows quirked up as the corners of his smile stretched impossibly wider. The cigarette was dangling between his fingers. He wouldn’t be able to keep it between his mouth with how hard he was grinning. As distracting as it was, you didn’t let it stop you. “Your face is very expressive, too. It’s always fascinating to watch you talk about something; even if I can’t hear what it’s about, I can tell how much you like it or how much you hate it, just by the faces you make. Your dimples are pretty endearing, too.”

Holding eye contact with him proved to be a little intense for you, your palms began to sweat the longer he stared at you.

“A-And you gesture a lot.” Your hands weaved around in the air, in a gesture that meant nothing. “With your hands, like this. It-It’s really something because, I’ve heard you speak before and you never seem nervous, more like you’re sure about what you’re talking about so the fact that you can converse with both your mouth and your hands—at the same time—is just really fascinating to me. Because I can’t. I’ve got to do one or the other, really. Usually, I just start talking and hope for the best, you know? I don’t even fully think of what I’m gonna say. Or I ramble. I start to ramble, like I’m doing now. The point is: you’re really pretty, Eddie.” You breathed out, shaking your head to try and bring some sense back. “Sorry for the monologue.”

The music from the house provides some background noise to fill the silence as Eddie ran a hand over his face, hand pausing over his mouth as he grinned like a mad man into it. “Well, goddamn. You got me blushing, Trix. Again.” It feels like you’re picking up right where you left off that night in his van. You’d been trying to let him know you noticed him then, too. You groaned at the use of the new nickname he’d bestowed upon you. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” “How can I? You don’t know how fucking cute you looked in that costume.”

You felt your stomach turn in the most pleasant of ways when he called you cute. Those damn butterflies.

“We’re talking about you, not me.”

“Fine, then please tell me more about my Bambi eyes.” “Out of everything I said, that’s what caught your attention?” He lifted the cigarette back up to his lips. “Well, yes. See, apparently, I have my mom’s eyes. And much like the young prince of the forest, mine is dead, so the similarities between us aren’t lost on me. Hearing you talk about them like that, I don’t know—I guess it makes me feel kind of proud.”

He shifted around, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. From one of the slots in the sides, he pulled out a small photo, running his thumb over the subject before he offered it to you.

You made sure to handle it with a gentle touch as you looked it over. The photograph’s edges were frayed, and there were numerous creases but the subjects were still clear. It was of a woman, holding a toddler up to her face. Their cheeks were smooshed together as they both beamed at the camera—though the toddler was obviously mid laugh. She looked surprisingly young, she couldn’t have been older than 25 in it, with brown hair and a fringe framing her face. Her big brown eyes gleamed with happiness, the same eyes as the child she held. The resemblance was uncanny, you would’ve been able to tell she was Eddie’s mother even if he hadn’t told you they had the same eyes.

“You don’t just have the same eyes, Eddie. You two practically have the same face! She’s so beautiful.” You couldn’t tear your eyes away. “Thank you.” For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting him to respond, so you looked up at him and were once more caught by surprise to see that tender look on his face—the same one he had when he’d been close enough to kiss in the confines of his van. “What’s her name?”

Eddie licked his lips, swallowing hard at the way you didn’t refer to her in past tense, like it didn’t matter that she wasn’t around anymore because she had been at one point. “Penelope. Everyone called her Penny, though.”

“Penny,” You echoed, nodding once the name rolled off your tongue. “Yup, that sounds like it fits her.” Eddie laughed. “Alright, whatever you say, Thumper.” “Stop referring to me by various rabbit characters!” You handed the photograph back to him, trying to ignore the tingle that shot up your spine when his fingers brushed against yours. “No can do. I’m the freak, you’re the bunny. Labels stick, sweetheart.” He put out the stub of the cigarette against the stone of the fountain seat before throwing it into the water. “Think I can make a wish off of that?” “No, Eddie. I don’t think wishing on trash is a thing.” He let out a dramatic sigh before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t need it, anyways. Things are starting to look up.” You hands moved to rest on either side of your thighs as you nibbled on your lower lip.

You could hear Human Nature begin to play inside, and it amused you that Michael would be the soundtrack to your little trauma story. He’d shared something personal with you, maybe it was only fair to do the same. Be as exposed as he had allowed you to see him. “My grandma recently moved in with us. I’ve never really wished bad upon anyone before—like okay, I mean death—but I wouldn’t mind if she expired already.” You knew how bad it sounded, normal people didn’t want their grandparents to die. But those people didn’t have her for theirs’. “We never really got along, she’s very dated. But she’s got this iron chokehold on my dad, always guilts him into shit. My mom doesn’t say anything because she knows how much my dad loves her but, uhm, I never really conformed to her idea of the woman I should have become. In fact, we’d argue a lot. The beginning of my sophomore year—the first one—we got into this huge fight at a family dinner. It was pretty bad. I didn’t think much of it because I figured my parents knew how she was and they knew how I was so they would just let it settle. But they didn’t. She convinced them I was like, out of control or something. That I would spiral into a life of drugs, sex, and instability.” You took a deep breath, willing your voice not to shake. “Then one day, I woke up in the middle of the night to strangers shaking me awake. At first I thought someone broke in, then I saw my parents watching in the doorway. They dragged me out of the house, locked me in a car, and a twelve hour drive later, I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of other teenagers who’d also been taken. They’re called wilderness therapy camps, or something like that, for teens. Cut you off from the world. You get to hear from your family once a month, if even that." You could feel the wetness pooling at your waterline as you remembered every single detail during your forced stay in the shitty ‘camp’. All they did was make you feel isolated and work you to the bone. By law, you hadn’t been kidnapped. But for six months, you’d been forced to do whatever a group of strangers said or risk punishment, forced to smile in pictures they sent to your family after you’d spent the entire night and day crying, and wishing for nothing more than the comfort of your home. “Jesus fucking christ, how is that legal?” The anger in Eddie’s voice came as a shock to you. His whole body was tense, his jaw locked as he listened to you recount how your parents had allowed strangers to abduct you from your bed and hold you in the wilderness against your will for months.

“I don’t know, but I wish it wasn’t.”

Eddie was fuming, and berating himself for not having known you sooner. Hell, if he had even known the reason you stopped showing up to school in the first place, he would have made it his mission to find you, to break you out of there and bring you home. “I tried running away a couple of times, but I’d just get lost. And there were mountain lions in the area.” Your first encounter with one had scared the shit out of you since you thought it’d kill you. Ironically enough, you were hoping for that during your last encounter with one. Anything to end the misery that had become your zombie like existence. But it hadn’t been in the mood. “My parents had some sort of breakdown over it, and they demanded me back six months later. School was still going on, but the year was almost over and I was so behind in work. I didn’t really feel like . . .” Living. Existing, “. . . going to school. So I just started over in the fall.” “Fuck—C’mere.” Eddie sounded broken as he pulled you into his side, arms wrapping tightly around your frame. Judy and Eden had offered you comfort when you’d finally told them about what happened, but something about Eddie’s embrace felt different. You melted immediately into his arms, inhaling the scent of him, even the cigarette smell that lingered on his clothes was appealing to you. Only because it was him. It was comforting. He was. He let his head lean up against yours as his large hand rubbed up and down your back, warming you even through the fabric of your clothes. The song had switched to something much slower, something gentle that you couldn’t recognize and you recalled your earlier thought about the night turning out nice. Eventually and very reluctantly, you pulled away. Climbing out of his lap somehow felt more intimate than when he had pulled you onto it. You were all too aware of his hands settling onto your hips to ensure you remained balanced, and for a moment your mind wondered what they’d feel like over your bare hips, fingertips digging into your sweat slick skin as they’d guide you ruthlessly up and down on his— “Guess the grass isn’t greener on the other side, huh?” He commented, eyes still honed in on you as you snapped out of your terribly timed fantasy.

“No,” You cleared your throat, willing your body to cool itself. You're grateful for the breeze. “No, I guess not. But it’s always nice to spill your guts to a stranger. Metaphorically.” “A stranger? I tell you about my dead mom, and you refer to me as a stranger?” Eddie placed a hand over his chest to appear wounded as his mouth dropped open, eyes wide in amusement and disbelief. “I told you about being practically abducted!” It was so fucked up given the subjects, but you couldn’t keep the grin off your face. “Still doesn’t mean you know me well!” “Did you happen to hear anything about the crush I’ve had on you for years, or are we ignoring that for creative purposes, too?” That little tidbit of knowledge would NEVER be lost on you. If tonight proved to be your last night on earth, you’d go willingly knowing Eddie Munson had a crush on you. “Maybe you liked the idea of me more than the actual me. The same could apply to how I feel about you.” You mused, though you were positive that wasn’t the case. There wasn’t much he could do that would change how you felt about him, and that kind of terrified you. Watching him from afar was one thing, but now you were in the danger zone. You’d gotten a little taste of the hurt that could come from this when you thought he’d just been messing around with you, this guy could do some serious damage to your emotions. Eddie rolled his head one way and then another, cracking his neck as he sighed. He hadn’t really known where this was going to go when he’d decided to confront you. Actually, he thought you’d tell him to fuck off, maybe throw an insult his way before disappearing from his life completely like he noticed you were already attempting to do. When you hadn’t done that, and instead had confessed that you liked him in a romantic sort of way—you hadn’t really said that but Eddie wasn’t a moron, he could read between the lines—he was ready to skip to the kissing and living happily ever after but you were right. Other than the growing affection, you two didn’t really know each other. He hated that. “So, what happens next then?” It was scary, giving you all the power but so much of it had been taken from you in regards to your life. If he could give you just a little more sense of control over your life, even if you decided that he wasn’t worth it, he’d gladly suffer. Just for you; he’d give you the chance to break him, like so many others had in one way or another. He watched you with bated breath as you stared intensely into the water of the fountain, plump lips pursing in consideration. You were torn. There was a part of you that wanted to throw caution to the wind and yourself at him, grab him while you could and run. But what if he didn’t end up liking you as much as he thought he did? What if it didn’t work out and you were left feeling stupid for getting swept up into some teen angst? You’d barely started talking to him but you found him so winsome. You were positive you could use someone like him in your life, but were you willing to risk losing him in the future because of some break up? You’d never been able to be friends with you exes before, and despite how charming he was, there was no way you’d be able to be around him if you’d fallen in love with him at some point only to break up. “I’d really like to be your friend.” You whispered, raising your eyes to lock with his. Eddie could feel the disappointment sinking into his bones and weighing heavy on his chest. He hadn’t expected you to just pick him. For some reason, it still hurt. But he’d take you any way he could get you, and if you wanted to be friends, then he’d become your best fucking friend. Maybe there would be a chance for the two of you in the future. His tongue licked over his top lip as he nodded a couple of times. “I’d like to be your friend, too.” Despite the bittersweet circumstances, you both smiled as you held your hand out to him. “Friends then, Bambi?” You teased, waiting for him to shake it.

Eddie took your much smaller hand into his, and you were surprised by just how soft his palms were, despite the roughness of his finger pads. The metal of his rings felt cool against your skin. “Friends, Thumper.”

“Friends don’t refer to friends as animal characters.”

“You literally just called me Bambi, you raging hypocrite.” He pulled his hand away to poke at your shoulder. “That doesn’t count, you compared yourself to Bambi; therefore, you accepted his title.” “It’s cute how you waited until after I agreed to be your friend to reveal that you’re actually incredibly manipulative.” “You’re lucky I didn’t wait until after the wedding.” You joked, nearly pissing yourself in relief when he laughed at it because you’d wanted to shove it back into your mouth as soon as it came out.

You had a feeling being friends with Eddie would be challenging, but you could do it.

Or at least, you really hoped you could.

────

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maidenvoyage42 · 2 years

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sorry not ofmd-related, but one of the best shows that i’ve seen in recent years is definitely fleabag. and it’s so frustrating that i’m probably never gonna be able to rewatch it, because since then i got guinea pigs, and it causes me physical pain to think about how that little piggie is treated in the show :( (in the smallest cage, all alone - piggies are social animals! - and i don’t remember anything else about her circumstances but in itself it’s so horrible. why did you do this phoebe :( )

#sorry i just saw a post about fleabag #and everytime i reminded of that show #i feel instant frustration because of this #i want to rewatch it but it hurts so much to see that piggie #and im frustrated because it would be so little effort to learn about responsible pet ownership before doing a show #and it would a great opportunity to promote the right way to have a pet #but no let's put her in a small cage and there's that #sorry im getting frustrated again

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feralwrongs · 3 years

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wait im sorry im sorry to bother you hi hello i just saw the tags on the fleabag post you reblogged from me - you're writing an r/s fleabag au?? oh???????????????? oh my god?????? ive never needed anything more in my life??

omg it’s never a bother ever!!! and yes i am!!! i haven’t really started it that much bc i was moving internationally but now that i have free time im definitely gonna devote more time to it. but im so glad someone else is interested in it omg??? i literally could go on about it for ages i just think the dynamic between fleabag and the priest can be so applicable to r/s like??? i love them so bad i literally am always down to talk about this <333

#omg i dont even think i have an asks tag yet i think this is my first ask #kate answers #but literally message me any time abt r/s and/or this au or honestly anything #i think remus as a priest plagued by a fox is something that can be so personal #fleabag au #im gonna make a tag for it so i can post more abt it #r/s

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

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Fics I read this week

Some of these may have been read earlier than a week ago, but I tried to keep it contained. Not sure I’ll keep this up, but I’ll try.

Finished:

Rated E:

the origin of change, by kissteethstainred, rated E

Lan Xichen said, “Time for regrowth and mourning is, of course, the most important. But there has also been a—frequent—discussion of marriage.” He paused to drink more tea. He almost seemed apologetic when he added, “Your name has been brought up often.”

“For marriage,” Lan Wangji repeated.

Except with Wei Ying in the picture, nothing goes exactly as planned.

Opportunity, by brooklinegirl, rated E

Lan Zhan is jostled slightly and he turns in his seat to see a harried-looking man squeezing in next to him. There isn't an empty seat there, and the bar is quite crowded. "Sorry," the man says, sounding out of breath. "I know I'm all up in your business, I'll move, I promise, I just—" He blows his breath out. "I'm going to lose this seat next to you, that dude over there has been eyeing it, and it's mine as soon as this guy leaves.”

Rated M:

Oxymoron, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

Jiang Yanli was in the kitchen. She hummed softly along to music being played somewhere else in the house, as she shuffled carefully back and forth from the prep table to the giant vat of soup. The house smelled like pork rib and savory broth. As always, she was beautiful in her element, a goddess of her domain despite the limp and the leg brace.

Her phone rang just as Jiang Cheng entered the kitchen. She saw him and smiled as she made her careful way to the phone on the wall-mounted charging station.

Jiang Cheng put the stack of paperwork down on a counter. He got to the phone first, picked it up. It was Lan Wangji’s number. He rejected the call and put the phone in his pocket.

“A-Cheng? Is everything okay?” Jiang Yanli asked, a frown creasing her brow. “Who was that?”

It Ends With the Beginning, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

They fight. They part. Jiang Cheng is hurt. Wei Wuxian comes to help. Wei Wuxian runs. Jiang Cheng is tired of chasing. They fight.

Until The End, by abCEE, rated M

"When I -- when I tied my ribbon around our wrists, I knew what I was doing and I privately honored it." Wei Wuxian's brows continued to meet as he tried to understand where the conversation was going until realization dawned on him. "Wa -- wait! Lan Zhan, is it what I think it is?!!" "It is usually done at the end of a wedding ceremony --" "What-" "But it could have been acknowledged as an engagement." "Lan Zhan!" He cannot believe what he is hearing now. "But my ancestor revealed herself --" "And we bowed… three times. We bowed, Lan Zhan!"

In which wangxian are married since the Cold Pond Cave incident, knows how proper communication works, and had confessed in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign. Things went spiraling up and down from there.

Rated T:

as it should be, by Sienne, rated T

Post-canon Lan Qiren time travels to before the Cloud Recesses lectures. The Cloud Recesses are quiet and peaceful, something his home hasn't been in years. ...In fact, it is too quiet and peaceful.

Judgment Day, by Grace_Logan, rated T

Cornered Wei Wuxian sees only one way out after cluing in on the Jin's plan.

Welcome To Gusu, by perkynurples, rated T

Deep in the lush forests of Gusu hides an aging resort that hosts dozens of children every summer for an unforgettable couple of weeks. It’s where Lan Wangji grew up alongside Wei Wuxian, and when his childhood friend (for the lack of a better term) surprisingly returns years later in the position of Senior Counsellor, seemingly hell bent on causing the same kind of mischief that got him kicked out of Gusu in the first place, but also taller, broader and tanner than ever before, Lan Wangji knows he’s In Trouble. Or, this fic has it all: longing looks over campfires, found family dynamics, ill-timed skinny dipping, teenagers inappropriately shipping their counsellors, camp weddings...

Therapy is a Performative Act, by cinder1013, rated T

“What does your dad think of your comedy?”

“Oh, he hates it, but it pays the bills and I need it to pay for my goddamn fuckin’ therapy.”

Jiang Cheng stumbles into being a stand-up comic and his favorite topic is dear ol’ dad.

sorry, i love you, by moon_thief, rated T

lan wangji was practically seething as he watched it happen. what kind of person could be so careless, unruly, undisciplined-

and then their eyes met.

oh. oh.

Tremble a Prayer, by cqlorphan, rated T

They kiss, and Lan Wangji regulates himself. There are no tears pricking at his eyes. There is no lump in his throat. His hands are undressing Wei Ying, and then Wei Ying’s hands are on his hands.

“What is it?” Wei Ying says, between kisses.

Even with Wei Ying back, Lan Wangji's sadness overwhelms him at times. He tries, and fails, to keep it from him.

The Quiet Work, by ShipsAreLaunching, rated T

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get a summons for help from a minor clan in Gusu. When they go to investigate they find a horrible truth, and do what they do best.

Rated G:

Ink Stains Not So Ignored, by Preludian_Staves, rated G

Qiren found something that he still couldn't bring himself to ignore about his youngest nephew's husband.

I’d buy a big house where we both could live, by failed2be_chill, rated G

“Ah, so you want to play with the rabbits and enjoy their soft fur and silly little nose twitches while your poor husband toils in the heat of the day with hammer and nail doing exhausting manual labour. I see how it is. It’s a good job I love you, huh?” Wei Wuxian kisses his husband’s soft cheek.

“Mn, very good.”

---

Or, married WangXian embrace the practical and symbolic joys of home ownership. Domestic bliss.

Family, by Speechless_since_1998, rated G

Jiang Cheng blinked as his brother while he played with the baby he was holding.

He hoped he had misunderstood, but he had proof that it was true right in front of him.

So he did the only sensible thing that came to mind, "Wei Ying, what the fuck ?! '

"A-Cheng, language!" Shijie scolded him with a stern look.

"A-Jie, you can't really accept such a thing!"

"Why not? He is so cute!" she said, making funny faces at the child, totally in love with him.

Was it possible that he was the only one with a bit of mental sanity left?

A Lonely Guqin (No More), by Asphodel_Meadow, rated G

Wei Wuxian is the first person who makes Lan Wangji want to have a duet.

piercing, by escapingaugust, rated G (read the tags)

Stolen Midnights, by hinotoriii, rated G

There are nights where sleep eludes Wei Wuxian. Where the demons of his past are too loud in his mind, reminding him of that which he could never forget, second life or not.

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

Disclosed Regrets, by zLanWuxian, Not Rated

The majority of the cultivation world are pulled into a room that suspiciously resembled the burial mounds. (Their golden cores were sealed too. As to why, nobody knew.)

They are invited to watch Wei Wuxian's life.

What will they do when they find out everything they believed was a lie?

(Or: The characters of Mo Dao Zu Shi watch Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Rated E:

Where You Fell, by Sweet_William, rated E

Years ago, Lan Wangji was a Senior in high school, readying himself for graduation and the coming years studying at the Gusu Lan Institute of Music. Everything in his life made sense, from his role in his family, to a future as a classical musician. The only thing that didn’t fit was the sudden epiphanies he had about himself brought on by his bothersome and flirtatious classmate, Wei Wuxian. When the growing attraction and friendship was cut short by the other boy’s disappearance, he mourned what could have been, but ultimately had to move on. What he didn’t know was that fate would bring them back together again one day, or the reality of how far apart two lives can diverge, how some can find peace and prosperity, while others can fall farther than he ever imagined.

A Narrow Bridge, by FrameofMind and Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle), rated E

Once, Lan Wangji made a choice to step aside. Ten years after Wei Ying’s death, he finds a way back to choose again.

Setting fire to our insides, by StarsAlignNomore, rated E

Lan Wangji dies after the thirty-third strike. Lan Xichen does not handle it well.

*fleabag voice* This is a fix it.

Rated M:

Live Again, Love Anew, by kkanime5555, rated M

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian finally speaks up.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan hums to show he’s listening.

“I think we traveled back in time.”

...

“I’ll go, Lan Zhan. I’ll come to Gusu with you.”

-----

Or,

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are soulmates and, upon Wei Ying's death, they are sent back to when they first met as kids on the streets of Yiling. From there, they both are taken to Gusu, where they are raised together, gradually learning of their shared feelings and finding out the mystery of who sent them back in time and why, all while planning how to save the world, preferably with all their loved ones left alive.

A Torn Red Ribbon, by shiroakuma, rated M

The night before they marched into the Nightless City, Lan Wangji was invited to join Wei Wuxian in his tent.

Unbeknownst to him at that time, it became their last real conversation.

In which, a resounding victory against the QishanWen Sect is won seemingly at the cost of Wei Wuxian's life. Lan Wangji still spends some time being heavily injured. Lan Xichen tries to pick the pieces left behind by the war. The Jiang Sect is renowned thanks to the revered Wei Wuxian and the cultivation world is plagued by unknown forces while Lan Wangji meets with Wei Wuxian in his dreams.

Sacrifices Made with Blood, by NocturnalFriend, rated M

Lan Wangji knew it was too late, there was too much blood on Wei Ying's hands already. Still, if he asked his brother for help, surely. There was a way to rescue the man who held his heart?

Or: Trust is not easily given and all to easily shattered. Lan Wangji learns this in the worst way, when Lan Xichen gives into the demands of the cultivation world. Although nobody could have predicted the whims of fate, giving them another chance at righting things.

What makes you sing?, by Fictio, rated M

Madam Yu was never known for her matchmaking skills but she was known for her inherent meddling. Though it still came as a surprise, when on one fine Saturday afternoon, she called Wei Ying and set him up for a blind date.

There She Rose, by Aiiiru, rated M

Many years had passed yet whispers and gossips about YiLing Matriarch still stayed alive like unruly weeds refusing to die.

"That damn Wei Wuxian must have cursed this year's harvest with 'unkillable' locusts" "But Wei Wuxian had died right?" "Didn't you know that her body wasn't found?" "I heard some cultivators saying that during the chaos, some people saw her leaving in a sword, flying away with someone else." "That must be the demon with whom she signed a contract, a female challenging three thousand or was it five thousand cultivators by herself? Hah!! She definitely has ties with evil creatures and ghosts." "I heard from my cousin in Yunmeng that YiLing Matriarch was born shameless." "Some say she was a male but took female form to seduce the ghosts of burial mounds and gain power by starting demonic cultivation" "Shhh! Don't talk so loudly! My cousin knew a man who loudly gossiped about Yilling Matriarch only to be cursed to death the next day"

Visitations, by Vir_Abelasan, rated M

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry."

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine.

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

Kiss My Wounds, Bless My Scars, by Pegunicent, rated M

When he is sixteen, Lan Wangji makes a choice. He becomes Wei Ying's bride.

Rated T:

the one where Jiang Yanli visits (and she's a fucking goddess), by ShippersList, rated T (part 4 of a series)

Wei Wuxian’s sister was a fucking goddess so it was a travesty she wasn’t being fucked like a goddess deserved.

Luo Qingyang decided to do something about it.

(Also, family feels and some plotting but that's beside the point.)

obscured in the shade of the willow, bathed in the light of the moon, by cloud_wanderer, rated T

Wei Wuxian leaves the Burial Mounds for the first time to attend his martial brother's wedding, and everything changes from there. (a.k.a. a universe in which Nie Huaisang schemes to thwart Jin Guangshan's plans and ends up saving Wei Wuxian and the Wens in the process)

Wei Wuxian meets Xiao Xingchen and helps found a sect in Yiling.

Inchoate, by Marinelifeclub, rated T

“Where would you even go once you left? Wait a few more years before leaving." persuaded Jiang Fengmian,

“Will I live to see that long?” Wei Wuxian whispered under his breath.

Jiang Fengmian felt cold at those words. He always thought his children would be the ones to heal the scars left by their mother on Wei Wuxian, but just the concise way he spoke about them, he knows that wasn’t true. Now his best friend’s son sat in front of him, confessing to not thinking he will live to see himself become a man. Cangse and Changze must be furious in their graves as the sweet smiling son they raised endured pain because of a jealous woman and a cowardly man. Sighing, he did the only thing he could to make things right and accepted the boy’s wishes.

At age 14, Wei Wuxian left Lotus Pier and never looked back.

Wei Wuxian leaves Lotus Pier and while things change something’s are just set in fate.

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra, rated T

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

Nie Huaisang's Ten Steps to Fix The Fucked Up Reality, by cosmic_zephyr (ProudHaikyuuTrash)

1. Find the time travel array in the Nie library 2. Convince (manipulate) Wei Wuxian to use demonic cultivation to activate the array. 3. Transmigrate to the body of your 15-year-old selves with Wei Wuxian and Survive his wrath. 4. Come up with yet another exaggerated, slightly concerning, plan to save Lotus Pier, Dafan Wens and your brother. 5. Use Empathy to make the Wen siblings side with you in the mess that is soon to come. 6. Kill the main Wen family and make Wen Qing the new leader of Qishan Wen so innocent people are not killed. 7. Annoy the hell out of Lanling Jin just for funsies and also a political statement because Jin Guangshan can suck it. 8 Preferably, just for your own sanity, find a way to kill Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao. 9. Work with Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing to solve the sabre problem of the Nie clan. 10. Live a happy life with your brother alive and the cultivation world not being the huge fucked up mess in your own time-line. P.S. Matchmake the pining pile of disaster and gay aka Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

Aka canon divergence where Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian (and Lan Wangji) travel back in time and save the cultivation world.

Deal, by Rahar_Moonfire, rated T

Nie Huaisang wants revenge for his brother. He also wants his friend Wei Wuxian back. Lan Wangji left the Cultivation World after Wei Wuxian's death and hasn't been heard from since. It's a good thing Nie Huaisang has spies everywhere. He has everything he needs to put his plan into motion: the notes, the instructions, the "willing body," and the patience to pull it all off.

Now he just needs to be sure Wei Wuxian survives long enough to pick up Nie Huaisang's bread crumbs, solve the puzzle, and shatter the Cultivation World again. The only person suitable for that job is Black Jade of Yiling, the husband of the infamous Yiling Patriarch, Lan Wangji.

Rated G:

Hadn't gone as I planned, by hamlets_ghost, rated G (part of a series)

Lan Xichen leaves the Cloud Recesses with Wei Wuxian and Wangji to meet his mother.

He cannot stay.

[continuation of 'Hold on to your heart']

#the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #CQL #mdzs

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byesexualsatan · 3 years

Text

OTPS/SHIP LIST

i feel like you get to know people better when you know what they ship so... here’s a list of my past & current ships ?? im bored, can u tell?

also if u know me, ignore this ty

MILEVEN aka LITERAL KIDS PLS😭

mike wheeler and eleven/jane hopper from stranger things

otp in late 2017

personal hcs: they’re queer/bi.

eleven def uses they/them pronouns

tbh i prefer byler and elmax now

background ships i like: joyce/hopper, jonathan/nancy... steve being bi and robin being the iconic lesbian that she is

DAMONA aka simonte

... simona and dante from the argentinian series simona

LMAO this one is from when i thought i was straight

otp in 2018

uhh bi dante and pan simona bc why not

literally forgot they existed until now

please don’t bully me

i truly thought i was straight

background ships: marisiena, junior/ailín

i was one of THE FOUNDERS of this ship istg... i was THERE when we were deciding the ship name (i voted for simonte but damona won smh)

SIMBAR aka bi awakening

simón and ambar from the disney tv show soy luna

yeah... sorry

otp in mid 2018

they’re gay!!!

bi she/they punk ambar yesyesyes

totally forgot about them but they’re sexc af

so glad they were endgame

background ships: idk but luna is pan

STEVEBUCKY aka stucky aka the end of the line

so... steve rogers (captain america) and bucky barnes (the winter soldier)

otp in late 2018/early 2019?

personal hcs: trans steve, bi bucky

favourite fanfic trope: found family, high school smau

fuck endgame, all my homies hate endgame

background ships i like: thorbruce, scotthope, nat/sharon

im with u til the end of the line, pal :c

PERALTIAGO aka jamy

jake peralta and amy santiago from brooklyn nine nine

started shipping them in 2018/2019 (i have no idea)

personal hcs: bi jake

favourite fanfic trope: casefics, pretend marriage

(THEY’RE FUCKING MARRIED WITH CHILD NOW,,, BUT IN THOSE FICS IT WASN’T REAL YET)

background ships i like: gina and rosa, holt and kevin

PETERMJ aka spideychelle

peter parker (spider-man) and michelle mj jones !!1! from the mcu

otp in 2019

personal hcs: they’re both bi, mj is demisexual too

he/they & she/they solidarity

... trans/demiboy peter and demigirl mj🥺

fav fanfic trope: school trip to stark tower, meeting the parents/avengers, smau

obviously let’s ignore infinity war and endgame

background ships i like: ironstrange, pepperony, shuri/any woman

THORBRUCE aka gammahammer aka gays in space

thor odinson and bruce banner (hulk) from the mcu

started shipping them in 2019

personal hcs: thor also likes women

they both use they/them and neopronouns too

fav fanfic trope: university au, smau, no civil war, no infinity war

this one is from my stan twitter era

background ships: stucky, tony/strange, nat/sharon, scotthope

CARMUEL aka spanish sexiest couple

carla rosón and samuel garcía from élite

otp in late 2019

...they’re bi. bc yes. and he/they samuel.

she/vers carla sounds very sexc to me

i ‘shipped’ them in s1 simply bc they were both very hot and when it became canon in s2 i SCREAMED

deserved so much better.

INEFFABLE HUSBANDS aka i almost forgot about this one, sorry

crowley and aziraphale from good omens

uhh started shipping them in 2019/2020 ?

bi genderfluid crowley, non-binary aziraphale

idk they’re being anyways

fav trope: raising children!! confusing ppl bc crowley is sometimes a snake!!

background ships: uhh anathema & newton ig?

WOLFSTAR aka the one true way (and... puppies, too??)

sirius black and remus lupin from the harry potter saga

otp since 2020 (thank u, @aretheygayvideos)

personal hcs: he/they gay sirius, he/they bi remus

also love nonbinary remus and genderqueer sirius

fav fanfic trope: getting together !!!! FLUFF!!!!

background ships i like: jegulus, regulus/barty jr, dorlene, jily

VILLANEVE aka murdering wlw

villanelle and eve polastri from killing eve

s.s.t in 2020

she/they bisexual villanelle and pansexual eve

fav fanfic trope: flower/coffee shop :)

ty tumblr for spaming my dashboard when s3 came out bc that forced me to watch it to understand all the posts

sandra oh is the love of my life

ANDERPERRY aka this one is for the depressed dark academia folk

neil perry and todd anderson from dead poets society

started shipping them in 2020

personal hcs: nonbinary neil, trans todd, both gay/androsexual

demiboy/nonbinary todd has a special place in my heart

fav fanfic trope: ALIVE!NEIL, roommates

background ships i like: charlie/knox, meeks/pitts

ZUKKA aka my favourite blue/red gays

sokka and zuko from avatar the last airbender < 3

started shipping them in 2020

personal hcs: gay zuko, genderfluid and bisexual sokka

sokka has adhd !! zuko is autistic !

favourite fanfic trope: fake dating

background ships i like: suki/yue*, ty lee/azula/mai, kataang

* please go check out s4pphos’ ig edit of them

CASMUND aka royal pirate gays !!

caspian x and edmund pevensie from the chronicles of narnia

started shipping them in dec. 2020

personal hcs: bi caspian, mlm edmund

love bisexual and nonbinary edmund too bc 👉projecting👈

fav fanfic trope: just. the plot of the movies but gay.

background ships: the dawn treader (ha-ha, get it? bc ship? im so funny)

tbh i don’t REALLY ship them that hard i just hate caspian/susan lmao

(susan is a lesbian)

BELLARKE aka m/f sexual tension™

bellamy blake and clarke griffin from the 100

started shipping them in 2021

personal hcs: she/they/xe bi clarke, he/ze omni bellamy

favourite fanfic trope: single parent bellamy, modern au (college, roommates)

i saw 2 seasons with my mom and then moved so,,, fuck i gotta finish it

EXTRAS

the “i don’t really ship them but if they’re together it’s better”

ty lee and mai

john watson and sherlock holmes

suki and yue

regulus black and james potter

azula and katara

regulus black and barty crouch jr

bugs bunny and daffy duck

emma and mr knightley

carol danvers and maria rambeau

valkyrie and carol danvers

natasha romanoff and sharon carter

sam wilson and bucky barnes !!! (post endgame)

charlie “nuwanda” dalton and knox overstreet

dorcas meadowes and marlene mckinnon

azula, ty lee and mai

klaus hargreeves and dave

paul coates and alec hardy

cassie and maddy

jules and rue

rue and lexi

fleabag and the hot priest

. . . more to add, probably

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dynamics-of-an-asteroid · 4 years

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

44 notes · View notes

thepickpocketofdreams · 3 years

Text

“I’m too nervous to talk to the Prince. I wouldn’t know what to say.” Marinette fretted, turning her head to catch a glimpse of him in his white outfit. Herself and Chat Noir were still waltzing around the ballroom, making a continuous loop of the dance floor. Every time they came close to the Prince, her stomach clenched and she steered them well away, where she could just watch from afar and sure, maybe she wouldn’t get to talk to him, but just looking was fine, right? At least she’d be able to remember this night and –

“I’m sure you’d do just fine,” her partner replied. Marinette looked up at him and saw that he was smirking, so she flicked the bell attached to his bowtie.

“That’s easy for you to say, kitty. You have no trouble with conversations – I bet you make him laugh all the time.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Princess. I find you purrfect.”

“Chat.” Marinette shot him a look. “Look at him! My friends have told me he’s funny, but he’s also so…so elegant and refined!”

From behind her, there came a familiar voice. “Trust me, Multimouse, Prince Adrien is anything but refined.”

Marinette pivoted to grin at Kagami’s dry quip; they must have drifted close to where she was posted. She tugged Chat off the dancefloor to avoid being stepped on as they talked.

“Excuse me, Kagami, but the Prince is the epitome of refinement.” Chat said with an exaggerated bow. “He practically invented it.”

“Which is why Nino spent all afternoon having to chase him with cologne?”

“That cologne makes him sneeze and you know it – ”

“Keep talking, fleabag.”

There was a second of silence in which Chat glared at Kagami’s impassive expression. Then Marinette snorted, and blushed furiously as Kagami and Chat looked at her in amazement. Then Chat began to laugh, and Kagami’s lips twitched.

“It’d do him good to have someone like you around, Multimouse,” said Kagami with a shake of her head. “You can help me to remind him of his duties – which involve wearing cologne,” she added in a stage whisper, as Marinette giggled.

“Oh, cruel world that forces its Princes to wear such vile concoctions,” Chat pouted and struck a ridiculous melodramatic pose, which only made Marinette laugh harder. Before she could find a comeback however, she noticed that Kagami snap back to attention.

“Your highness,” she said with a bow.

Slowly, Marinette turned.

And gasped.

Before her was the Prince. He stood tall, dressed in a white suit with a flowing cape that touched the ground – there were feathers embroidered into the lapels, she noticed distractedly, as her eyes moved upwards. A pair of green eyes bored into hers from behind his mask as he surveyed Kagami’s bow, and the people around them who had dropped into curtsies and –

“Oh!” Marinette dropped into a clumsy curtsey, and lowered her gaze. His shoes! They were white too – a pain to keep clean outside, but SO distinguished in this case and –

“You may rise.” His voice. It was melodic, not that three words were really an indication, but oh well. As she stood up, Marinette peeked sideways and realised that Chat hadn’t bowed, merely nodded his head at the Prince. Well, he’d said they were friends, but if even Kagami had bowed then –

“Can I help you, your highness?” asked Kagami, distracting her from her thoughts.

“Princess Lila wishes to dance with me. I wish to avoid dancing with her.”

“You could dance with me,” suggested Chat Noir with a smirk. To Marinette’s surprise, the Prince gave him a withering look.

“Don’t start. I’m exhausted.” His eyes roamed the cluster of people around them, before coming to rest on…her? Checking behind her, Marinette realised he was holding out a hand. “You’re a pretty thing, you’ll do.”

Pretty???

“Excuse me?” Chat Noir took a step forward. “You can’t just speak to the guests that way –”

“There should be a ‘your highness’ in there somewhere, cat,” said the Prince in a bored tone.

“Oh, I’ll give you ‘your highness’ –”

“Gentlemen!” Kagami strode in between the pair. “No need to make a scene. Your highness, I’m sure any one of these wonderful guests would be more than happy to join you on the dancefloor.”

For a moment, no one moved. Marinette looked from the Prince to Chat Noir, whose posture was stiff and unyielding. What was he doing? Surely, he could see that the Prince needed a partner?

“I want to dance with this one.” The Prince said firmly.

Marinette gasped. She tore her eyes away from him and caught the tail-end of the glare Kagami shot at Chat. He hadn’t moved. The glare he was directing at the Prince was enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

I thought they were friends?

“It’s okay,” she said, putting a hand on Chat’s arm. His eyes snapped to her. “I wanted to dance with the Prince, remember?”

“Yes, but –”

“Smart girl.” The Prince placed a hand on her waist, and Marinette dropped hers from Chat’s arm. Seeming to snap out of his trance, Chat swept into a deep bow.

“Well, it was a delight to dance with you, milady. I hope you find all that you’re looking for.”

And he walked away.

Out in the centre of the dance floor, Marinette had no time to worry about Chat Noir. All her attention was focused on not standing on the Prince’s toes, or saying something ridiculous. Not that she usually said ridiculous things, unless she was around unfairly attractive people which, to be fair, the Prince was, because he was a MODEL but –

“Your name?”

“I – sorry?” Marinette forced her attention to the Prince’s face and saw him wince as she instantly stood on his toes. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry –”

“It’s fine.” He attempted a smile. “I asked your name?”

“Oh, I see. I’m ah – I’m Multimouse. Well, just for tonight, I mean, I’m not normally called Multimouse. What kind of person would have that name? Like multiple mice, what would have to happen at your birth for you to get a weird name like that?” Towards the end of the sentence, she tailed off into a squeak.

Why. Am. I. Like. This.

To his credit, the Prince didn’t run for the hills. He looked as though he wanted to, but he didn’t. Small mercies.

“It’s…nice to meet you, Multimouse.”

Something inside her shrivelled up at the lack of tone in his voice. Marinette chanced a glance up at his face, only to be met by disinterested eyes. Eyes that looked past her to scan the crowds of the dancefloor.

“Hiding from someone?” she asked. Chat Noir had been hiding from someone too, her traitorous brain reminded her. No. She pushed Chat Noir aside. This was her chance to talk with Prince Adrien.

“I’m hiding from Princess Lila. Weren’t you listening?” he snapped. A lump formed in Marinette’s throat – here she was, in front of her hero, and it was going every bit as badly as she had feared.

“Oh yes, silly me. I completely forgot.” Marinette gave a half-laugh. The Prince didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he seemed to prefer her silence.

They waltzed around the room, and Marinette looked around wildly for a friendly face. Alya, Nino, Kagami, even Chat Noir – but none of them were there. She craned her neck to check the highest balconies, but there was only a lone figure up there dressed in blue.

All of her friends had left.

“I –” Marinette took a step away from the Prince, letting her hand drop from his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Please, find someone else to dance with you. I need – I need a moment.”

Before he could reply, she darted through the crowd and out of the ballroom.

#tails never fails #marichat #marichat may #purrince #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir/marinette fluff #chat noir #chapter five #chapter 5

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mortuarybees · 5 years

Note

mr. Bees i sprained my ankle and am bedridden until further notice, please rec me ur fav fics under 8k (that adhd attention span is fun)

I’m so sorry to hear about your ankle!! I’d be happy to rec some fics. i’m only tagging authors if they have their urls listed with the fic! if you want me to add your url, just lmk :). also if my mutuals have posted fics feel free to put them in the replies bc yall have Taste:

salinity and other measurements of brackish water by drawlight / @drawlight - 3.5k - if you haven’t read salinity yet, drop absolutely everything and do it right now because it’s phenomenal and atmospheric and it absolutely aches!!! “It's an odd thing, getting on after the End of the World. Crowley takes to sea-watching.”

quiet light and ad astra (explicit) by drawlight @drawlight - the first clocks in at around 2k and the second at 8k. it’s the shortest and most effective slowburn i have ever read. quiet light is unconfessed love; ad astra is a love confession and first time and they’re beautiful

everything just stops by witching - 4.5k - idk how long you’ve been following me but when i first read it i FULLY had a meltdown and took all of you with me. it’s that “i love you deep, angel” shit “I love your silly aziraphale things” shit! they have the tenderest fucking conversation in literary history while crowley is drunk in a bath it’s wonderful

a culmination of miracles by prettydizzeed / @genderqueercrowley - 1.3k - an absolutely beautifully written fic about crowley having chronic pain and informing aziraphale about it six thousand years later

i keep a window for you (it’s always open) by prettydizzeed / @genderqueercrowley - 2.4k - a complete fkcing war crime of a fic of crowley getting emotional about romeo and juliet and continuing to be emotional about it for centuries and then, even worse, quoting r+j in a love confession.

such surpassing brightness by handful_of_silence - 7.7k - one of my favorite fics of all time! aziraphale is the patron of queer people and has been for thousands of years! fuck!

it’s the light (it’s the obstacle that casts it) by handful_of_silence - 5.7k - “The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho.” aziraphale and crowley speak polari. literally so up my alley i melted when i saw it

your hair was long when we first met by aziraphvle / @aziraphvle - 1.4k - crowley asks aziraphale to cut his hair and we are taken on a thousand-word journey about how aziraphale loves his hair and loves him and it’s. a whole lot. bringing samson by regina spektor into it was entirely uncalled for. again i am Weak for aziraphale loving and caring for crowley.

and then i will kneel down (explicit) - 5.4k - f. fleabag omens. it’s the confession scene but it’s aziraphale and crowley. it is More than you could ever possibly imagine

hard feelings/loveless by witching - 2.3k - "Aziraphale said it was like the opposite of the feeling you’re having when you say things like “this feels spooky.” Crowley didn’t know what to make of that, but he expected it was something like the opposite of the feeling you get when the only person who truly knows you makes a cryptic remark suggesting that you can’t understand love. Crowley understood love all too well.”

the saddest part of my day by witching - 3k - "crowley is preparing to leave on a demonic assignment, and he's very nervous about leaving aziraphale in charge in his absence.” they have a very open and honest and loving and very adult conversation about their feelings and tbh? That’s My Kink

summer and his pleasures by witching (explicit) - 7.2k - “absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.”

penance by blissymbolics / @blissymbolics (explicit) - 5.9k - praise kink/crowley finally gets off after six thousand years of trying

like a prayer for which no words exist by lipsstainedbloodred - 8.1k - “In which Crowley and Aziraphale do not dine at the Ritz after that nasty business with Heaven and Hell, and Crowley has an existential crisis instead.”

men have gone to heaven for smaller things than that by mercuryhatter - 713 words - Robbie Ross’ funeral. “Aziraphale finds an age slipping away from him.”

where you stay i will stay by mercuryhatter - 866 words - men at the Hundred Guineas Club went by women’s names. aziraphale chose naomi and paid to keep the name ruth available in case crowley woke up. aaaaa

the hour/the spot/the look/the words by planethunter - 2.5k - “Crowley watches Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it spurs a realisation.” you can imagine what a trial it is to read p+p 2005 being brought into good omens but life is nothing but suffering apparently, i’ve learned that this summer through this fandom

and the punchline to the joke is asking SOMEONE SAVE US by princex_N / @princex-n - 5.8k - “The fact of the matter is that Crowley was the first bitter cripple to limp across the face of this planet. It's been 6000 years and things don't seem to have gotten much better.”

birds of a feather by idiopathicsmile - 3.6k - idiopathicsmile of world ain’t ready fame. if your life can be divided into Before Les Mis and After Les Mis, you understand. “Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.”

covet by mirawonderfulstar / @mirawonderfulstar - 2.4k - “Aziraphale, little good though it did him, wanted desperately. He wanted with an urgency that scared him. He wanted wine, and cocoa, and the occasional tea. He wanted gravlax with dill sauce, and Pappardelle Bolognese, and those awful little iced biscuits they had at Tesco at Christmastime. He wanted dinners at the Ritz and long walks in the park and late nights in the back room of his shop. He wanted Crowley. Fervently, achingly, he wanted Crowley.”

indellible by greased_lightning_rod / @aziraphallist (explicit) - “It turns out glitter is miracle-proof and, also, that it itches. Crowley needs some help preening. He gets a bit more than he bargained for.” Wing kink. yall know i’m weak for aziraphale taking care of crowley sue me

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza - 4.2k - “So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.”

the nuances of “together” by mirawonderfulstar @mirawonderfulstar 2.8k - “Everybody in the whole world can tell Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple. Everyone except, apparently, Crowley.”

listen (he’s already told you five times) by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons - 1.8k - “Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn't always hear him at first, but he's learning to stop being surprised.” Love!!! Languages!

sudden and surprising moments of overwhelming affection by darcylindbergh @forineffablereasons - 2.7k - “Aziraphale has not shut up in thirty-four minutes. Crowley’s been counting.” O More I Love Your Silly Aziraphale Things Shit. if you’re a neurotic talkative gay and insecure about it that particular genre of good omens fic is ruinous.

things truly terrible by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons - 1.2k - “Crowley has said some truly terrible things over the years, but this was the worst.” tooth-rotting-sweet love song-fueled confession.

tell me all the ways by tinsnip - 1.6k - “Crowley was out in the garden. Aziraphale was in his study, most definitely not looking out the window. Really. Really. One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask?” More! Love! Languages!

a name for earth by regencysnuffboxes - 1.1k - “Demons can’t say holy names, and Aziraphael accommodates his new friend accordingly.”

a home at the beginning of the world by stereobone / @stereobone - 5.8k - crowley just kind of. moves in with aziraphale. Meaningful Interior Decorating! Couch Metaphor! yall know what i’m weak for

#i hope you're back on your feet soon!#and i hope these keep you occupied until then :)#henry speaks #good omens #fic rec #caniwritemywayout

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discoscoob · 4 years

Text

Bless me, Master, for I have sinned

Pairing: Dhawan!Master/You

Summary: A total rip off of the kneeling scene from Fleabag, all credit for this goes to Phoebe Waller-Bridge and this post

Word count: 4,2k

Warning: I’m still fairly new to writing smut, basically this is only my second time and the first I’m actually posting so apologies in advance, please be kind 🙏🏻

The Master had shocked you many times but you had to admit that seeing him stood at an altar, with a bible held in his hands and a dog collar around his neck as he officiated the wedding ceremony of your cousin and her fiancé, was up there at the top of the list of his biggest shocks.

You hadn’t seen him in months, you had been travelling with him behind the Doctors back after the events with the Kasaavin, since the both of you had grown attached while he was pretending to be O. It all came to a halt when he one day gave you an ultimatum, which was for you to decide whether you wanted to travel with him or the Doctor, telling you that whichever one you chose meant you could no longer see the other. It was one of those head or heart decisions, in the end you had went with your head and every day since you had wandered how differently you would have ended up had you gone with your heart.

You slouched further into the uncomfortable wooden church bench, luckily you weren’t sat too close to the front, you were grateful for the ridiculously large hat you had chosen to wear, by simply tipping your head forward it would cast a shadow over your face and make you less recognisable.

You spent the remainder of the ceremony bouncing your knee and chewing your lip while glancing at the exit, knowing if you left early you would only draw attention to yourself so you waited until it was over and everyone had left their seats to dodge through the crowd and straight for the double doors, what you didn’t expect was for the Master to be stood at the entrance of the church, nodding and smiling as everyone left, even shaking some people’s hands if they offered.

You dipped your head once again, this time hiding your face completely beneath your hat as you quickly jogged past him, hoping the old lady who had decided to start telling him about how she also got married in this church was enough to keep him distracted.

Once you made it to your car you checked all your mirrors and let out a sigh of relief when you saw he wasn’t following you, after removing your hat and placing it on your passenger seat you started your car and began your journey home.

However after you got home you still couldn’t stop thinking about him, he was in your town pretending to be a priest, you wondered how long he had been here and why he was here, was he looking for you? That didn’t make sense, he knew where you lived, if he wanted you he could just show up on your doorstep anytime he liked.

It was after you had got into bed for the night that you realised you wouldn’t be able to sleep with all these unanswered questions in your head, begrudgingly you threw your covers off you and began to get dressed, you were going to pay him a visit.

•

When you entered the dimly lit church you couldn’t help the shiver that shot down your spine, you had never been in a church at night before and you hated how hauntingly airy it felt, so you wrapped your arms around yourself as you warily made your way down the isle.

The sound of pop music echoed through the empty hall and you followed the noise until you arrived at an archway at the side of the alter, from there the warm glow of a light partially leaked into the shadows and lured you towards it.

When you entered the room, the sound of banging caught your attention and you turned your head in the direction of it to find the Master jumping with his arms stretched out above him, trying to reach for something in one of the higher shelves of a cabinet. He was too distracted by this task to notice your presence so you looked behind you for the source of the music and found the stereo, you reached out and hit the switch to turn it off

“Oh fuck!” The Master immediately startled when he saw you stood there and he scrambled backwards with his arms in front of him as if you were a threat, still letting out a string of curse words.

“Woah,” you breathed out through a small laugh, somewhat amused by his reaction.

“Oh my god I thought you were just in my head then!” He thought out loud, as he blinked rapidly, his arms still held out in front of him as he shifted his weight on his legs, he brought his hands up to his eyes as if he was going to rub them just to be sure they weren’t deceiving him but he stopped himself to point at you instead, “I mean, you were in my head then... but now you’re there.” He waved his hands around as he spoke, it was pretty obvious from the way he was acting that he had had a little bit to drink... or a lot.

You laughed a bit, unused to seeing him behave this way but you gave him a dubious look as you asked, “are you okay, Master?”

“Fuck you calling me Master like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.” He smiled boldly at you with both hands placed on his hips, he was still dressed up as a priest though his collar hung open now to reveal the top of his chest, the hair there just peaking out from beneath the fabric.

You stood wordlessly, unsure of how to even respond to what he just called you out on, I mean it wasn’t exactly false but you weren’t going to admit it out loud, your silence was enough and it seemed he realised that as he let out a single hum of a laugh.

“Do you wanna drink?” He offered you.

“Yeah,” you found yourself answering before you could even think about it, you knew that probably wasn’t the wisest decision but it was too late now he had already placed the empty glass on the table.

“Don’t move.” He ordered as he turned around the fetch the bottle, you couldn’t help the way that little instruction made your stomach do a slight flutter.

That’s when he went back to what you had caught him doing when you walked into the room, jumping at the cabinet with his arms stretched above his head, “I don’t seem to have the fucking reach anymore.” He complained as he continued to jump and you watched him curiously.

“God help me.” He spoke under his breath and with one more jump the bottle was flying out of the cabinet, “woah” he gasped as he quickly caught it before it smashed to the floor.

He gave you a look before he moved back over to the table, you followed him as he poured you both a glass before he picked them both up by their rim, offering you yours.

“Here’s to chaos,” he raised his glass towards you, “and those who get in the way of it.”

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that but you raised your glass to his anyway and they met in the middle with a little ping before you each took a gulp... or two... or three, if you’re the Master.

“I’m sorry about–“ You began to apologise for choosing the Doctor over him, you weren’t sure why but you felt as though you had to as you looked upon the broken state he seemed to be in.

“Forget about it.” He dismissed before he quickly changed the subject “look at this!” He smiled, placing his glass on the table to turn around to open the closet behind him, he pulled out a priest’s robe and of course it was purple, you smiled nodding, you should have expected it, “look at it!” He enthused, “I knew I wanted a bold... this colour.” He gestured towards the garment. “So beautiful, isn’t it?” He looked at you as if this was completely normal, as if he wasn’t the Master, the renegade Time Lord who destroyed his own planet, now stood here with you in a church, pretending to be a priest as he fawned over one of his robes, refusing to acknowledge the obscurity of it all.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked him the question you came here to get the answer to, he paused, standing across from the table with his hands clasped in front of him and his head hung so he didn’t have to look at you, he stepped forward and reached for his glass, it seemed he was suddenly very interested in it’s contents as he stared into it while he shifted his weight back and forth until he got the courage to look up at you finally.

“Come with me.” He nodded his head towards the door as he began to walk over to it, you weren’t sure if this was leading to him answering your question or if he was trying to change the subject but you guessed the only way you would find out would be if you followed him, so that’s what you did.

•

You were stood in front of the confession box, face to face, you still couldn’t tell where this was leading but by now you were sure that it was a way to distract you just enough so he wouldn’t have to give you any of the answers you were looking for since he seemed to expect you to be the one to tell him your secrets, rather than the other way around.

“You go in there, I go in there.” He explained to you, pointing to each cubicle of the box, the irony of an alien who wasn’t from your planet explaining one of earths customs as if he had better knowledge of it than you did, sometimes you forgot how much time he had spent on earth, technically he had lived on this planet longer than you had, maybe he did have more knowledge after all. You shook your head, that was too much to think about right now especially when you realised he was really serious about getting you to do a confession with him.

“You’re going to make me tell you all my secrets so you can ultimately trap and control me.” You joked.

“Yeah,” he giggled, before his face shifted to a more serious expression. “No, you tell me what’s weighing on your heart and I listen without judgement and in complete confidence.”

“Wow how much time have you spent here, did you read that from a script?” You laughed through a gasp, shocked by how precise he was getting this priest act.

“Shut up,” he light-heartedly grumbled at your teasing, “come on.” He encouraged you.

“I’m not a catholic.” You protested.

“Neither am I.” He shrugged and had you been religious you would have stepped away from him in fear he would spontaneously burst into flames, since you were sure that standing in a church and being a fraudulent priest while admitting you weren’t a catholic was asking for trouble.

“Come on.” He urged you some more, keeping his voice soft. “Just do it.”

“Alright.” You softly agreed and then you both made your way in to the separate cubicles.

“Okay now you say ‘bless me Master for I have sinned-“

“I’m not going to say that.”

He ignored your interruption and continued with his instructions. “‘it’s been insert days, years months since my last confession’ then I say ‘that’s okay blah blah blah’ until you tell me what’s on your mind... tell me your sins!” He eagerly encouraged you and you were laughing.

“Why would I tell you my sins?” You spoke through a broad smile.

“Because... I want to know.” He told you in a hushed tone, as if it were a secret.

So you decided you would, with a quick gulp of your drink and a deep breath, you would play his game.

“I’ve stolen things... but you would know about that since you were usually the one encouraging me to do it. I’ve had sex outside marriage, something else you already know about.” You laughed to yourself, “a lot of masturbation, a bit of violence and of course the endless fucking blasphemy.”

“And?” He prompted you to share more, it wasn’t hard to see you were holding back.

“And...” You paused, questioning whether or not you really wanted to tell him.

“Go on.” He pushed you.

You took another big gulp of your drink, to try and calm your nerves.

“And... m’frightened.”

“Of what?”

“That I got it all wrong...” He remained silent as he patiently waited for you to elaborate, “I thought choosing the Doctor was the right thing to do but if it was why do I still think about you every single day and what my life would have been like if I chose you instead?”

“Do you still travel with the Doctor?” He had asked and you automatically shook your head before he remembered he couldn’t see you.

“No,” you answered quietly.

“Do you miss it?”

“I miss you.” You confessed, “I think you should have made the decision for me, I would’ve done anything you told me, I trust you would’ve got it right and I wouldn’t be spending every single day thinking about what could’ve been because I would‘ve actually been doing it. So just tell me what to do,” you pleaded, your voice strained from your overwhelming emotions. “Just fucking tell me what to do, Master!”

Silence. You felt your heart begin to pick up as you waited for him to say something, you dropped your head in dejection.

“Kneel.” Finally came his instruction.

Everything went still for a moment and you questioned whether this was reality or if you had just began daydreaming. Your eyes travelled up to the grid of the confession box.

“What?” You wanted the confirmation that you heard him correctly, that this was real.

“Kneel.” He said softer this time, “just kneel.”

You took a deep breath while you blinked down at your lap, your lips were slightly parted as you lifted your drink to slowly place it on the ledge in the confession box and with that you carefully lowered yourself to your knees in the cramped space, the wood creaked as you moved. Once you were on your knees you arched your neck back and chewed your lip while you waited for what was next.

You really hope he wasn’t going to get you to pray this was not what you imagined–

The curtain to the cubicle was abruptly pushed to the side to reveal the Master standing before you in all his glory, your breath hitched in your throat while your lip slipped from between your teeth, your mouth rested slightly parted. You stared up at him with doe eyes which conveyed all your desire while he glared down at you with a hard stoic expression.

Your eyes followed him as he gently lowered himself to his knees, one leg at a time and once he was done he was still looking down at you since you knelt with your bottom rested against the back of your ankles while he kept his thighs up right.

He brought his hands up to your face, just letting them hover before he ever so lightly traced the back of his fingers down your jaw until his thumb slightly brushed your chin.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes kept flicking down to his lips and you hoped that they displayed all your need for him and he had enough mercy to grant you your desire.

Much to your delight he leant his head towards yours and you craned your neck towards him, your lips met in a tender kiss, his fingertips brushed up your throat and the fine hair at the back of your neck stood to attention.

When you pulled away from the simple kiss, you briefly glanced at each other, just to see the affect you had on one another but your glazed eyes barely managed to meet before each of you were focusing your concentration onto the others lips. You fell into another kiss however you decided you needed more than just soft and tender so you pushed into it further, raising your thighs and he chased your lips with his own as you continued to rise until you were stood on both feet, with him not far behind, your mutual desperation increased at a rapid rate.

You began blindly stumbling, with your hands trying to grab each other anywhere and everywhere all at once, both of you refusing to break the kiss to move in a more effective and safer fashion, until you were pushing him into the door of the confession box.

You brought your trembling fingers up to where the button should be for his trousers but you had trouble finding it until you recalled he was wearing a robe so you hastily grasped the fabric in your palms trying to get it all out of the way from where you wanted to be which only caused you to grow frustrated.

“Skirt and trousers?” You complained, although you had to admit it made sense considering priests had to be celibate it’s not like they had any need for clothes that allowed for easy access.

He helped you along as he bunched up the fabric in his arms and you were finally able to unclasp the button of his trousers, you felt the fabric which the Master had been holding bunch up against your wrist as he let it drop in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, deciding he needed to pull you closer, so with your chests flush you blindly walked him until the back of his knees hit a bench and he collapsed onto it with his legs spread wide open, allowing you enough space to drop to your knees between them. You steadied yourself by clutching each of his thighs as you lowered yourself to the ground, never breaking eye contact.

His eyes still shone despite the lack of light in the empty church hall and his jaw hung slack, you caught the way his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths as he closely watched your every move while he urgently gathered the excess fabric of his robe to get it out of your way.

“I should have never let you go.” The Master panted, “I should’ve kept you all to myself the moment you started travelling with me, I was a fool to share something as precious as you with anyone else, let alone the Doctor.”

While he was talking you had managed to get his zip down and began palming him over his underwear, you could already feel his length straining against the material from how desperate he was for you.

“You don’t have to share me anymore.” You promised him, while you slowly pulled his trousers and boxers down together until his member was freed from its confinement, it sprung up against his stomach and the Master hissed from the feeling of it suddenly coming into contact with the cold air, churches weren’t exactly renowned for being the warmest of places.

He didn’t have to suffer for long as you were soon wrapping your warm palm around the base to drag it up to his tip, letting your hand slightly twist around the head before dragging it back to the base to repeat the routine.

His breathing grew even heavier and you didn’t miss the way the muscles of his stomach twitched as you paid close attention to the head.

With one fist buried into the crumbled up fabric of his robe, keeping him grounded, he moved his other hand to comb his fingers through your hair to secure a fist full of it at the crown of your head.

“That’s enough teasing, pet.” He huffed, urging your head closer to his length and who were you to disobey your Master?

You lowered your head, never breaking eye contact as he watched you with his lids lazily dropped. You brought your tongue out to give the head a quick lick before wrapping your lips around it and hollowing your cheeks as you dragged your head back up until it released with a pop, after that you flattened your tongue against his base and dragged it all the way to his tip which you swirled your tongue around before you closed your lips around it once again, this time moving your head down his shaft and the Master encouraged you further with the fist full of hair he still had a secure grip on, until the blunt head collided with the back of your throat and you let out a splutter, he loosened his grip allowing you to freely raise your own head but you just brought your mouth to his tip before you where sinking back down again as far as you could go.

“So good for your Master,” he breathlessly praised you, which only spurred you on further as his hips began to involuntary thrust up into your mouth, chasing his impending high.

He broke your eye contact when he threw his head back against the back of the church bench, moaning your name in pleasure and you saw his Adam’s apple bop up and down, swallowing a gulp from the way his mouth watered.

You began to quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks harder and rubbing the part you couldn’t reach with your hand to bring him towards his orgasm.

By now your eyes had started watering from the attack on your gag reflex but you didn’t mind since your eyes weren’t the only things that became more damp with each thrust that hit the back of your throat, you clenched your thighs in an attempt to offer yourself some relief but it didn’t go far.

“M’gonna come,” he warned you through clenched teeth, it was the only noticed you got before his hips bucked towards you a few times until finally his release spilled onto your tongue as your name spilled out of his mouth, he had tightened his grip on your hair making your scalp burn from the harsh hold but it only sent a wave of pleasure through the pit of your stomach.

Once his body relaxed so did his hold and he gently ran his palm over your scalp to sooth you as he caught his breath, his head still rested back against the back of the bench, you tucked his now half hard member back into his underwear before you nuzzled your face into his palm which he had brought to your cheek after he had stroked it through your hair.

You had your eyes closed you hadn’t noticed he was reaching forward for you until you felt his hands gripping you under your arm pits, urging you to your feet, you did as he wanted and his hands slid from under your arms and down your rib cage until they gripped your waist and he pulled you down to straddle his lap.

He looked up at you, his eyes bounced back and forth between yours before he extended his neck towards you to capture your lips with his own, his hand moved up to the back of your neck to keep you in place, while his tongue brushed across your bottom lip.

Your own hands were rested on his shoulders to keep yourself steady, you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind into his as you searched for anyway to relieve the tension that had built from providing him with pleasure.

After he felt your hips rhythmically stroking against his he moved his hands to your love handles to still your movements with a bruising grip.

You whined in protest but he gently shushed you, dragging a finger over your lips.

“Does my human need her Master?” He taunted, and you desperately nodded as you looked into his sparkling eyes, looking more himself than he had the entire night, a broad smile creeped on his face when he saw the yearning in yours.

“Use your words, love.” He urged.

“I need you, Master.” You mumbled, vocalising your desires was something you still struggled with but when you travelled with him he had always encouraged you to be vocal, not only did it make it easier for him to know exactly what you needed he revelled in watching you beg him.

He gently patted your thigh, prompting you to lift off his lap with a quick peck to your lips.

“Come on, love, let’s go to my tardis, where I can take proper care of you.” He promised, and you weren’t going to turn him down, not ever again, you still hadn’t got the answers you had come here for but that could wait, for now you had better things to do.

#doctor who #dhawan!master #the master #sacha dhawan #dhawan master #dhawan!master x you #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master imagine #doctor who imagine #fleabag #doctor who fanfic #the master x reader #the master x you

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secondhand-trash · 5 years

Text

Good People

@shinsoubowl Week Day 4 (Prompt: Hero+Villain)

A/N: Out of all seven days, this is probably the hardest to write for me but I did succeed in slipping a Fleabag reference in there again so it’s all good. I’m just hoping and praying that this turns out ok.

(Also, Tumblr has been acting strange and not letting me add more than 5 tags recently so the exposure is greatly limited and I'm petty about things like that because I do work hard on everything I put out so reblogs are greatly appreciated qwq)

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x villain!reader

Description: You had lost your hope that there were genuinely good people in the world a long time ago. So no, just because this hero was nice and didn’t want to fight you could not convince you anything.

Word count: 3125

Playlist:

Me//The 1975

Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked//Cage The Elephant

Something Has to Change//The Japanese House

If you got to start all over again, you would have never gone down this path in the first place.

It started off as minor shoplifting in convenient stores when you were a kid. You knew that it was wrong, but the wall of candy was too tempting and there was no way you could ask you parents for money when they were struggling to put food on the table each day. Your father got into heavy debt after his business partner took all of the company’s assets and disappeared from the surface of earth one day. The salary he earned was barely enough to keep the family alive, spending a large portion of it to pay off the loans.

You never got caught, not even once, and it only prompted you to keep going. You slowly moved onto pickpocketing and stealing cash from registers when the shop keeper wasn’t looking. It made you even more money but it also started forming this empty pit of guilt at the back of your head and yet you never stopped.

By then, you father had entered eternal slumber and something about the sigh of relieve from your mother when you handed her the cash pushed you to keep going back. There were times when she looked like she wanted to say something before you sneaked out of the house ‘for work’ but she never said anything, silently pulling back the hand that attempted to reach for her child.

Then there came the time when snooping around for inattentive by passers could no longer fulfill that urge in you.

Hiding in a dark alley, you gathered your breath as the security guards of the shop you just broke into ran past the spot you were hiding at. Checking that there was no one around, you pulled out that heavy gold bracelet from the pocket of your belt. You did not need the price tag on the display to see that you could make good money out of it. Inspecting it carefully under the flickering street light, you sighed in pity that the intricate carving on the gold would soon be gone when you handed it to the dealer.

Sometimes, you were afraid that you had started to enjoy what you were doing instead of treating it as nothing but a line of work like you convinced yourself to be.

“Pretty valuable stuff you got there but I’m almost certain that it’s not yours. Mind if I put it back to where it belong?”

You immediately went into high alert and shoved the bracelet back into your pocket when you heard the voice from above your head. Snapping up, you saw a man with a black mask looking down on you from the lamp post.

Great, a pro-hero.

A long piece of fabric extended towards you and you jumped to deck from the attack. You had heard of this particular pro from other people of your kind. He was new to the scene, making quite a name for himself with his skillful tactics and overpowering quirk.

“You’re not going to answer me? How rude.” the man clicked his tongue as he leaped from where he stood and made another attempt at trapping you with his scarf. You pursed your lips tight, avoiding even the smallest of responses towards the man. You remembered what they told you about him, one word and he had you under control, and you had been struggling on this path you went down for far too long to be captured now.

A villain, that’s what they called you, to which you only scoffed. Perhaps you were a villain, but if you were a villain, what were the people who turned you to this side of the moral compass? Were they good people? And this hero who was here to give you the punishment the society thought you deserved, was he a good person under that mask and the costume?

People did not overrate his ability in combat. You were having a rough time fending him off while resisting the possibility of a slip of the mouth, but you could tell that he was new to this. He knew what he was doing but none of his punches were lethal. He was holding back.

In a perfect world, he would be respected for having mercy on you, the villain. But the world was not perfect and most of the time, it was far from being good. Hesitating could be a great flaw.

Spotting one of the hero’s weakness in defense, you took the chance land a punch right at his stomach, forcing him to bend down no matter how fast he could react under physical reflectiveness. By the time he recovered, you had already gone out of his sight, leaving him alone in the dim alley.

Sliding in through the unlocked window, you frowned at how the light of the living room was still on. Living room, you silently laughed in bitterness at the thought, like you weren’t living in a tiny flat that was split into rooms by thin curtains hanging on the ceiling. “Mom? Why haven’t you gone to sleep? I told you that there’s no need to wait for me.”

The woman on the couch was already drifting into sleep when you called for her. You knew that she hadn’t been feeling well recently and you had tried to tell her to get more rest but it seemed that you got your stubbornness from her.

“I can’t sleep without knowing that you got home safely,” she smiled and you could see the wrinkles at the end of her eyes. When did those start to appear? For as long as you could remember, there wasn’t a time when there weren’t any lines on her forehead, an effect of furrowing her eyebrows together too often. “How was work?”

You felt bad for lying to her but you could not say it out loud. You could not say it to her face that her child was a villain who stole things for a living, even when you were almost certain that she already knew. After all, mothers know best.

“It went alright,” you tried to force a nonchalant smile even when your stomach was twisting together in guilt and lifted the curtain to where you slept, “I’ll just go to bed now. You should get some rest too, you’re looking really pale.”

You had long accepted the fact that you were no perfect human being and most of the time, you were certain that you could not even touch the line of being good, but lying to your mother would never stop making you feel like the worst person alive.

You kept running into the same pro-hero who you met in the alleyway from that night onwards. Where ever you were, he was there waiting already. It was starting to get tiresome and rather creepy, if you would be so bold to say.

For the first few days, a fight would inevitably break out between the two of you and it always ended the same way with you escaping by a hitch. Then he stopped trying to capture you through battling and it was worse, because he started talking to you.

If fighting him was a pain in the ass, than this new method of his was straight up torture.

It started off as him trying to irritate you into responding with jabs or insults but he soon realised that it was not enough to get you to talk as you would just rolled your eyes and threw punches at him. Looking back, you wished it had stayed that way because he somehow managed to make the whole thing even more annoying. He would block your only route of escape and started talking to you like he was just talking to a friend about his day. There were times when you were so baffled by the sheer stupidity of the whole thing that you almost gave in and yelled at him. Needless to say, it took a lot of self-control to bite your tongue when all you wanted to do was get him to shut up.

Still, you would at least tried to hear what he had to say each time before finding a way out. It would be a lie if you say that there wasn’t something stupidly entertaining about the hero rambling on about the random things that happened in his life when he could be fighting you instead. You almost anticipated him to show up each night and just started talking when you never gave him any responses other than exaggerated facial expressions at all.

If he wasn’t here to arrest you, you might actually take a liking towards that man.

You already had one leg hanging off the barricade as you were about to make a jump to the ground from the balcony when the hero showed up tonight. You stopped and turned to look behind you where the hero landed, raising a brow towards him.

“Sorry that I’m a bit later than usual, had to chase down this other guy who was robbing a bank.” he laughed when your eyebrow only arched at his statement, “Don’t look so shocked, you’re not the only one I’m trying to capture.”

You nodded in amusement. You weren’t sure when this whole process felt like less of a competition to see who break first and more like two people genuinely hanging out. “Although it really doesn’t feel like I’m even trying to capture you anymore.”

You grinned and tilted your head. You would love to believe that it was the case and he was just here night after night because he wanted to talk to you but it was never wrong to stay alerted. “Can you just say something? It feels like I’m talking to myself here! I promise I won’t use my quirk on you.” the hero pleaded but you doubted its sincerity due to the smirk on his face and you shook your head, the smile never left your face. “Come on! I know you want to!”

He wasn’t wrong, you did want to but your survival instinct override this childish desire. You were a villain and he was a pro-hero, you two weren’t meant to be friends and simply wouldn’t happen no matter how much you wanted to talk to him like normal people do.

Smirking, you turned your back to him and was about to leap down when his voice caught you by surprise.

“Fuck you, then.”

You snapped back, entertained beyond measure by his response. You had to purse your lips to prevent the laughter that was threatening to escape and gave him a look as in to ask him, “Really?”

When you lie on your mattress with your eyes closed, it was the amused glimmer in the hero’s purple eyes that kept showing up in your head.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night.

You shouldn’t get attached, it’s dangerous, but you had become way too fond of the strange hero who talked to you every night at this point to back out. The two of you were standing on the balcony where you would for sure past by each night. Leaning against the fence, you put your chin on your hand with one elbow supporting it on the fence as the hero standing next to you rambled on.

You wondered if you two would have become friends if the circumstances were different. It was a stupid move that could wash all your hard word down the drain but at that point, you didn’t care. This had been bugging you since you met this guy and despite better judgment, you weren’t really sure how long you could keep this in.

“Why are you still here talking to me?” the hero’s eyes widened as he heard your voice for the first time. “You’re a pro-hero, I’m a villain. You’re supposed to fight me, not hang out with me.”

He paused for a while, “I don’t think you’re like other villains.”

You snorted in bafflement and didn’t say another word. He sighed, seeing that you didn’t trust him enough to actually respond to him. “I’ve been keeping a record of what you did since I met you that day. You never steal from small businesses, only big cooperation or rich people.”

“And that’s how you decided that I’m not like other villains?” you replied, basically taking a leap of faith to see if this person you had been talking to for the past weeks was actually as decent as you hoped him to be. A rush of relieve washed through you when you could feel that your body was still under your own control.

“You’re not doing it just to cause chaos or hurt people like a lot of other villains and, I don’t know, I guess there are chances that you might be a good person.” he said with an earnest that left you unable to react. A good person. How long had it been since someone called you that? “I saw the way you fight, put it to good use and you might actually save the world-”

“Why do I want to save the world when the world never saved me?” you turned to look at him in the eyes and felt yourself stiffen at the look in his eyes. He would not get it, you bitterly thought to yourself. “I did not choose to be like this but when no one came to save you, you might just be isolated for long enough to become a villain.”

This was a waste of time, ‘villains’ weren’t supposed to confide in heroes and it was naive of you to even think that he would understand. Climbing over the fence, you stared at the hero before you escaped into the darkness.

“The world isn’t good. Trust me, I’m a villain.”

You were sure that it was the universe playing a joke on you to prove just how bad it could be when you woke up the next morning to find your mother collapsed on the ground. The sight was something out of your worst nightmare and you could not breath properly until you held her wrist to sense that she was still alive. She was burning with a fever so high in temperature that you were starting to fear that the day you were truly on your own would come sooner than you detested.

You tried everything you know, every medicine you could get your hands on but there was no use. She was still unable to even move when the night arrived and you were worried sick. It was the first time that you cursed yourself for having a lifestyle that was everything but legal. You could not take her to the doctors because hospitals keep record on everything and it would not take them a lot of time to find out what exactly you were up to. If this was about you, then you would just take the risk and turn to somewhere shady but it was your mother, and you would rather trade your soul than to put her in harm.

You knew what you should do the moment you stepped out of your house that night.

Shinsou was almost unsure if you would show up. You seemed to be quite pissed off last night and he wasn’t sure if you would still want to see him after that. It started off as an attempt to lure you into activating his quirk by accident but he had come to quite enjoy those late night conversations. He immediately perked up when you climbed onto the balcony.

You walked straight up to the hero and grabbed the scarf circled around his neck. His body tensed up at your sudden action but his mouth hang agape in shock when he saw you took it and wrapped it around your own wrist.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” you took a deep, shaky breath and said, “you’re gonna hand me over to the police and tell them that you captured me.”

“What? Wait a sec-”

“I’ll tell you where I hide everything I’ve ever stolen,” you sounded so calm it almost frightened him, “there’s a woman there, a really sick one. I don’t know how but please god get her somewhere better than that-”

“No.”

You stopped when you heard him. “What?” you yelled in disbelieve. “I am making your job easier for you, what do you mean ‘no’?”

“You’re not making any sense! Is something going on?”

“Yes!” you threw your hands in the air. You could feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you screamed in frustration, “My mother is dying because I’m a fucking villain and I can’t get her any help!”

“And your way out is to hand yourself in?”

“Well I don’t know what else I can do and if there’s someone who have to profit off of my misery I want it to be you because you talked to me and made me laugh and even if you might not turn out to be a good as I think you might be but at least you are a decent person and a decent person is fucking hard to find.” you said it all in one breath and gasped for air as you gathered your breath. “So please, I beg of you, just help me out and do as I say.”

Shinsou wasn’t sure what he should do but you looked like you were about to break down and that hurt him way more than it should. Although his movements were a bit stiff, he sighed in relieve when you didn’t protest as he wrapped his arms around you. “Told you, you are a good person.”

You sniffled and mumbled against his shoulder, “You have really low standard for ‘good’.”

“Let me help you,” he pulled away and wiped a thumb one your cheek to dry the tear that ran down your face, “I won’t hand you over but I’ll help you if you let me. That’s what heroes are supposed to do, right? We help people.”

You let out a broken laugh. You weren’t sure why you believed him but that look in his eyes was all too convincing. And for the first time in a really long while, you truly believed that perhaps there were good people in this not-so-good world after all.

No one had ever saved you, not until Shinsou Hitoshi talked his way into your life.

#shinsoubowl #shinsoubowl week 2019 #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #shinsou imagine

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