#going through old boxes of stuff from my parents’ loft again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

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Possession - Choso ft. Geto

Choso-nii is sweet in his own ways, we have to admit lol this is a non-curse uhmmmm I know Choso is literally like 150yrs old but just so we ALL KNOW: reader is 18+, and femme reader

Content warningssss: infantilization + dumbification, incest, slimy best friend Geto, dubcon, praise, dacryphilia, light choking, degradation, manipulation/gaslighting(i’m not sure which is the proper term for this situation so im just putting both)

Choso was lucky, being the oldest of all the siblings. He had the most life experience, the most time out of all of you to try things out and get shit right. Growing up, he tried to be there for you but he was often much too busy to dedicate the time and effort needed to properly foster a relationship.

Irregardless of that, you still looked up to him and sought him out whenever you could. Hanging out with him in little increments, somehow squeezing in alone time with just the two of you. It was no easy task with as many brothers as you had, but you managed to steal away a precious few seconds with him when you could.

Which is why when Choso moved out, you were utterly devastated. It felt like just yesterday he was helping you pick groceries for a big family hot pot and then the next he was packing boxes and moving into a trendy studio downtown to pursue an art and fashion career.

When he left with the final box you blubbered like a baby, not wanting to be comforted by him because it would only make you miss him more. It hurt him too to see you like that and to know that he could have prevented it if he just simply stayed, but he wasn’t about to hold himself back just to keep the bandaid on a little longer.

As the months ticked by, it agonized you to be left without him. Sure you had your other brothers and you loved them just as much, but it wasn’t the same without him. You texted and called Choso and made sure he kept up with the sibling group chat, but there wasn’t much you could do otherwise.

Until one fateful day, the power went out at the house over the weekend. The maintenance man had told your parents it wouldn’t be on until Monday morning and you were far too quick to snatch up the chance to be the one person that got to go to Choso’s.

“Choso-nii!” You were absolutely buzzing as you threw open the door with the spare key he had left at the house. Finally, finally, you got to see where he lived and spend more time with him. You hadn’t gotten the chance to go to his place yet despite how long it’d been since he moved out; he always said he was too busy working on a project or that he was out too late to entertain you.

Your shoulders dropped dramatically when you realized he wasn’t home. Dragging your small suitcase through the door, you let the disappointment hang on your face at being all alone. Taking your shoes off, you stepped onto the frigid hardwood and took a look around.

His place was modest, he wasn’t a starving artist but he couldn’t afford the large lofts you saw online. Immediately to your left was his small kitchen with only one full sized counter to speak of, to your left was a bathroom covered in slate gray tiles and no bathtub, and in front of you was his living room.

“He decorated pretty well.” Mumbling to yourself, you look around the room. There’s a tiny desk facing the wall shoved into the corner with his computer on top, a decently sized couch next to it and a coffee table with coffee ring stains on it. There’s an area rug your mother got him and hanging on the walls is multiple pieces of art he’d acquired. He’d shown you some when you last video called and all of them were beautiful.

Walking past the mounted TV and gaming consoles he kept was a space divided from the living room with a slatted wood wall. Right behind the wall was his bed, messily covered in blood red blankets, pillows and crumpled sheets. It was probably the biggest piece of furniture in the apartment, and the rest of the room was covered in posters and housed his clothes on open hangers.

Making yourself comfortable, you waited eagerly on the couch for him to come home. You’d already whined through text at him, berating him for not being here to greet you. With the promise of a large takeout meal when he got home, you could only sit and twiddle your thumbs.

“Choso-nii!” Leaping from the couch as the door opened, you were ready to pounce on your brother and smother him in a hug.

“Hey.” He replied gruffly and you stopped short at the looming shadow still behind him. Your smile fell when a man walked in behind him, long inky black hair tied up into a loose bun and a wide stature that made you nervous.

“Hi.” The way his low voice stretched into a higher pitch as he wiggled his long fingers at you, the sleeve of his hoodie dipping down to reveal scrawling black tattoos against his skin, had a shiver going through you.

“H-hi.” Your voice was tiny compared to his and it made him chuckle. Your eyes weren’t even on Choso anymore, glued to the man who was now smiling at you with his eyes half closed.

“How was the trip here?” Choso is suddenly right in front of you, cutting off your line of sight and pulling you into a hug you quickly reciprocate to ease your mind. Your fingers dig into the soft material of his jacket and you can smell a faint trace of nicotine on him.

“It was fine, mom drove me to the station.”

“Good, good.” All too soon he pulled away, rubbing your head affectionately before turning to the guest he’d brought. “This is my friend Geto, we do business together in the fashion district.”

“Ah, this must be the little sister you told me about!” Geto’s brows rose and he let out a pleased hum. “Hi little sister, I’m Geto Suguru.” The way he called you little sister made your face burn, it was like he was mocking you.

“Tell him your name.” Choso grunted and nudged your shoulders.

“I’m (Y/N)...” Licking your lips nervously, your eyes dropped to a spot on the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).” Sliding closer Geto pat your shoulder lightly. “You can call me Geto-nii.” Your eyes widen and snap up to look at him, clearly surprised a stranger would be so casual already. “I want us to get closer, afterall we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. I’m one of your brother's best friends.”

“Uhm, o-okay.” Nodding quickly, you meet his dark eyes for a moment before looking at the piercings on his ears. “It’s nice to meet you too, Geto-nii.”

“Hey, what do you want for delivery?” Choso huffs from the couch. He’s surprisingly hands off with your interaction, not even looking at the way Geto sizes you up or how his fingers are close to closing in on your wrist.

“What is there?” Rushing to the couch, you practically fall right into Choso’s lap and nuzzle into his shoulder to look at his phone. Geto stands right where you left him for a moment, taking in the sight of you cuddling up to your brother so closely, before he slinks away into the bathroom.

“Wow, that came so quickly!” Twenty minutes later you’re seated on the floor, pressed against the coffee table as you marvel at how fast the delivery came. “At home it takes at least forty-five minutes!”

“That’s what you get for living in the sticks.” Choso teases, a small uptick to his mouth as he brings the food to the table.

“Shut up!” Puffing out your cheeks, you look up at the game Geto is playing. It’s some online multiplayer shooting game you hadn’t bothered to catch the title of, but the flashing lights and the way Geto got so worked up had you intrigued.

“Fuck yeah, foods here.” Taking a quick glance down, Geto abandoned the game quickly. Tossing the controller onto the couch, he walked to the fridge and dug around. “Choso, beer?”

“Yeah.” He called back, digging out the contents of the bag and spreading it out across the table.

“Did you get me a-” Right as you were about to ask, Choso placed a cold can of soda in front of you.

“Yup.”

“Aw (Y/N), you don’t drink beer?” Geto whined, plopping down across from you with a pout. Handing a tall can to Choso, he cracked open his own and frowned slightly when you shook your head no. “Have you ever tried it?”

You could feel your brother's eyes looking right at you, curious to know the answer too. The truth was, you had experimented with both liquor and weed but you never told Choso. He always warned you not to get into any of that stuff.

“No.” Your cheeks burned as you lied and Choso’s eyes narrowed; he could tell you were lying and the curt sigh that left his lips was evidence enough.

“Really, never? Take a sip then.” Sitting up a little straighter, Choso opened his can and held it out to you.

“No thanks.” Trying to push the can away, you avoided both Choso’s narrowed gaze and Geto’s smirk.

“No go ahead, I insist.” He held the can out staunchly. “Your first time should be with me anyway.” That made your face even hotter and you hung your head, a whine threatening to bubble out of your throat.

“I don’t like it.”

“Hm, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?” Geto added, knowingly stirring the pot and hiding his wide smirk behind his beer can.

“I just do!” With a huff your head shot up and you looked at both of them.

“Try it.” Choso said firmly, his eyes now wide and unblinking at you. The whine you’d tried to hold back came out and your shoulders bounced up and down as you spoke.

“I don’t want to, I’ve already tried that kind and I don’t like it!” There, now it was out in the open for everyone to know. Your head dropped again but you could see the way Geto bit his lip hard to stop himself from giggling.

“I thought I told you not to get mixed up with that stuff.” Sighing softly, Choso took a long sip from his beer can and the silence that hung between you was heavy, at least on your end. Your shoulders sagged and you picked up your plate.

“Sorry.” Your voice was so pitiful it made Geto coo.

“What’s done is done.” Choso shrugged and began to dish himself up. “Next time you wanna do that stuff though, come to me.”

“Yeah, your big brothers will make sure you have a great time.” Lightly tapping the table, Geto grinned widely. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he turned on some music. “Now let's eat, I’m starving!”

The air between you and Choso was stilted. He wasn’t angry or disappointed with you, he’d made sure to tell you when he caught you pouting over your food. He just wished you’d come to him first, but you couldn’t help but see past it. Choso was hurt he wasn’t your first choice, and even though he didn’t vocalize it his actions showed it.

“Hey (Y/N), come and play with me.” After dinner Geto had flopped back down onto the couch, his stomach bloated with a food baby.

“Uhm, okay.” Taking a quick glance at Choso who was sitting down at his computer, you nodded. Taking a seat a good few inches away from Geto you picked up the other controller.

“Why’re you so far away, I won’t bite!” He laughed, quickly discarding the thick hoodie he’d been wearing. Your eyes were drawn to the heavy black and grey traditional Japanese tattoos going up and down both of his arms, stopped only by the t-shirt he had on.

“Your tattoos are really cool.” Unable to take your eyes away, you slid closer to him on the couch, body dipping on the cushions as you leaned close to examine them.

“You like them? I have more, lemme show you.” Off came Geto’s shirt and you gasped loudly. He had a whole bodysuit going on, large pops of color on his chest and shoulders going down his sides and disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

“Woah, these are so cool!” You couldn’t hide how impressed you were. Your hands ghosted over his skin, drinking in the intricate designs etched permanently into his body along with the rippled muscles underneath his skin.

“Does my little sister have any tattoos?” Geto asked, letting his hair out of its bun and letting the strands fall around his shoulders.

“No.” Choso answers for you, not taking his eyes away from his computer.

“Yeah, I don’t have any yet.”

“That’s a shame, I think you’d look really pretty with some ink.” Running a hand through his hair so he could flex his arm, Geto flicked his chin towards Choso. “I’ve been trying to get this guy to come to my shop to get some work done too.”

“Choso-nii, you should get a tattoo!” After seeing Geto’s you were hooked.

“Hm.” He grunted, casting you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “What should I get?”

“Get something like this!” You gestured towards Geto and Choso finally turned around away from his computer to look fully at you.

“You really think I’d look good with all that?”

“Yes!”

“Ah you heard her, Choso! I’ll book you a consultation with my artist, he’s a great guy.”

“Alright…” Choso’s eyes lingered on Geto for a little while longer before he turned back to his computer. “Sign me up then.” Letting out a victorious little sound, Geto tugged his shirt back on and picked up his controller again.

“Alright, let’s play now.”

It was safe to say that the kinds of games Geto and your brother played were much harder than the ones you played at home. There were far too many character controls to memorize and the speed at which you had to press the buttons was too fast and it hurt your fingers after a while.

“Geto-nii, I don’t like this!” You groaned, slumping against him and the couch cushions as you lost another round of the online game.

“Poor baby, is it too difficult for you?” Geto pouted at you and pat your thigh. Choso had slipped a pair of headphones on, oblivious to the way Geto was speaking to you.

“It is.”

“Here, we’ll go do a practice round and I’ll teach you how to play.” Flicking through the options, Geto found what he was looking for. “Your little brain just needs to take things slow.”

“S’not little.” Pushing his shoulder with a huff, your cheeks burned as he laughed. “Your games are just stupid.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Drawing out the y, Geto loaded up a practice game and hooked his arm around your shoulders, putting his hands over yours on the controller. “Now just try to remember how I do it.”

His arms tightened around you, pushing your chest nearly flush with his as Geto pushed and pulled your fingers insanely fast, pulling off stilted combo moves with your hands. You could barely keep up with what was happening on screen let alone the buttons he was pushing.

“You think you got it?” His mouth was now right against your ear, his voice a low and rumbling whisper. A tiny, strangled noise comes from the back of your throat and Geto can feel you tense up slightly. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you all night if I have to.”

Chuckling darkly, his lips ghost along the ridge of your ear before starting up another game. Your face is on fire and Geto knows, he can feel the heat radiating off your body much stronger than it was before. The subtle shift of your thighs and the way they squeeze together isn’t lost on him, and it only makes him draw you deeper into his lap until you’re sitting pretty on his stretched out legs, head nestled gently on his shoulder while you try in vain to keep up with him.

“Alright I sent the final sketch to Gojo and-” Choso tosses his headphones off and turns around, body stretching and extending up and out, bones cracking and popping loudly in his ears. He stops speaking, gravelly voice suddenly caught in his throat when he sees the two of you together.

It’s been so long since he’s been cuddled up to you like that that the sight of you in his best friend's lap like that makes his mind go blank. Cuddled up with another man, you’re not even playing the game anymore, having given up a long time ago just to simply watch and lightly nap while you wait for your brother to give you attention again.

“Hm? Oh, that’s great.” Geto replies, giving a quick glance to Choso and then to the clock on the wall. “Fuck it’s already 2am? I missed the last train.”

“You know it’s not a big deal for you to crash here.” Choso shrugs and begins to turn off some of the lights that are beginning to burn his eyes. He can’t stand to look at you any longer or the creeping jealousy in his chest will bubble to the surface.

“Choso-nii…” With a big sleepy inhale you arch your back off Geto, pushing your weight into your hips as you stretch and rub your eyes.

“I shoulda had you get ready for bed earlier, you must be beat.”

“Mhmm.” Nodding sleepily, you stand up with help from Geto, his hands placed low on your hips and fingers splayed out on your body. “I’ll be quick.” Shuffling to your suitcase, you take out your sleeping clothes and bathroom essentials before blindly walking to his bathroom.

You can hear a low murmur in the living room as Choso and Geto also get ready for bed. There’s a few chuckles, and you hear Choso snap at Geto for something, and they’re definitely saying your name at parts, but by the time you come out the conversation is done and over with.

“Come sleep with me, little sister!” Geto calls from the couch where he’s set up a makeshift bed and taken all his clothes off except his underwear. There’s a blanket not yet put over his body right next to him, and your eyes are staring right at the tattoos that dip under his waistband and finish on his ankles.

“C’mere.” Choso huffs, snatching your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. Your eyes follow Geto as you walk and you can feel the way he stares right at your bare thighs in your sleeping shorts.

Pushing you onto the bed, Choso climbs in after, flicking off the last light left on and engulfing everyone in a shroud of darkness and city light peeking through the curtains. Frustrated, Choso tosses and turns in the bed and throws the blanket around both of you.

“Goodnight.” You say loud enough for Geto to hear.

“Good night little sister.” He calls back.

“Yeah, night.” Choso grunts and finally slaps his head against the pillows before stilling completely. Slowly, you slide your body closer and closer to him, the touch of your fingers to his bare chest making you shiver.

“I love you, Choso-nii.” You whisper in his ear, wrapping your arms around him and curling a leg right against his sweatpants.

“Love you too.” It takes him a few seconds too long to reply but when he does it makes a delighted grin spread across your face. Hooking an arm around your back he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and squeezing you tightly before loosening up. “Now go to sleep.”

Sleep comes easily to you, after all you’re in the arms of your brother that you love so much. You used to sleep with him when he still lived at home, crawling in at night after you’d been forced to watch a scary movie and cuddling into him. He could never say no to you even if he was exhausted and just wanted to pass out, he always made time to cuddle you.

Choso was having a much harder time going to sleep. He remembers what it was like sleeping in the same bed at home and he doesn’t remember it being this much of a problem. Sure, he woke up with a half hard cock some mornings that he was able to force away before you woke up, but somehow this felt different.

You were at his house not at the family home. There were no other brothers to barge in and demand breakfast, no parents to poke and prod at him to get up and go to work - this was his space, somewhere he had complete control over and could do whatever he wanted and that included fantasizing about rubbing your ass while you slept and touching himself.

Eventually forcing himself to sleep, Choso was thankful when he woke up to the sound of his alarm and no hard cock. Blindly turning it off, he stretched as much as he could with your body laying on half of him. Slowly inching out of your hold he was greeted with the slimy, sticky feeling of cum soaking the insides of his thighs and smeared along his sweats creating a big wet patch on the front.

“Someone had a nice dream.” Geto said quietly into the early morning darkness. He could just barely make out Choso’s cum stained pants as he walked past the couch and into the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up.” Choso bit back, ears burning red. Geto fell back onto the couch with a soft laugh under his breath.

When you woke up it was well after Choso had left. The digital clock he used flashed bright red numbers at your bleary eyes, telling you it was now ten in the morning. The bed was cold on the side Choso slept on but you rolled over anyway and breathed in the scent of his pillow.

“Oh my god.” When you got up and out of the bed you weren’t expecting to see Geto still in the apartment on the couch in his underwear wrapped up loosely in a blanket.

“Good morning, sleepy girl.” He hummed over a cup of black coffee, his long hair still tussled from sleep.

“Where’s Choso-nii?” You fidgeted with your fingers, looking anxiously around the room for a hint that he was still here.

“He had to go in early for a project, it’s just you and me.”

“O-oh.” A sickening grin spread across Getos face the longer you fidgeted. “Uhm, I’m gonna use the bathroom!” Rushing past him, you tugged your sleeping shirt down, attempting to hide the goosebumps rising on your thighs.

“I’ll make breakfast!” He called out, helping himself to Choso’s kitchen. You took as long as you could in the bathroom, waiting until he was done cooking to come out. “Hope you like eggs, little girl, because that’s all I know how to make.”

Taking the plate from him, you let Geto place his hand on your lower back and guide you to the couch. The TV was turned on low to some random morning news talking about the weather, and Geto’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire time you ate.

“Thank you for the food.” You said quickly, standing just as fast and going to the kitchen sink. Cleaning up the few dishes left out, you gasped and nearly jumped out of your skin feeling Geto press against your back.

His hands come to rest against the countertop, trapping you between it and him. His broad chest pushed against your back making you bend to accommodate the added weight, pushing your ass into his growing cock.

“G-geto-nii?” Another gasp came from you as his lips pressed against your ear, skimming around it and the sound of his breathing ringing in your head. Planting a soft kiss behind your ear, one of his hands came up to grab your jaw.

“You really are such a cute little sister, you know that?” Bringing your head back and up, Geto kisses your cheek a few times. His fingers splay downwards, grabbing onto a bit of your throat as he kissed the corner of your lips.

Squeezing your eyes shut, a little whimper comes from the back of your throat when he kisses your lips and forces your mouth open with his fingers. Getos tongue slides in effortlessly, like you’d invited him in and told himself to make your mouth his new home. Gliding his tongue over your teeth, his coffee flavored saliva started to drip down the corner of your mouth.

Beating a fist against the counter as you start to get too lightheaded, you’re gasping for air when he lets you fall back, crumpling to the countertop with ragged breathing. Smoothing a hand down your back, Geto goes down past the hem of your sleeping shorts and pushes his hand up under them.

“Geto-nii!” Curling your fingers into the granite, a loud squeal erupts from your chest and you force your body upright.

“Such a perfect fucking ass.” Geto groans, groping your flesh hard. “And no panties? Who knew you were so naughty while you slept.”

“M’not- not naughty!” You pout, turning over your shoulder and shaking your head at him.

“Such a naughty little sister I have.” Taking his hand out of your shorts, Geto lets you turn around and face him. Briefly biting his lip, Geto grabs you by the jaw again and kisses you, this time fully slotting his mouth against yours.

Immediately your hands fly back to catch yourself, the force of his kiss enough to almost make you fall over completely. The hand not holding your jaw snakes under your shirt and goes straight to your breast, giving it a rough squeeze that has your hands going to grip his upper arms.

“Sensitive, are we?” He pulls back slightly, licking his lips and yours and squeezing your breast again.

“It hurts.” Tilting your head back with a whine, your nails dig into his arms.

“Sshh sshh, you can take it, can’t you? Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

“No.” A heavy pout is back on your lips, but you’re not sure it ever truly left. Geto’s brow quirks at your answer and he smirks.

“No? Why not? Is it because I’m not Choso?” He pauses and the silence that fills the air is all the answer he needs. “Didn’t I tell you last night I was your big brother now too? Hm?” As he speaks with slightly forced words his hand drops to the base of your throat and gets a tad tighter than you’re comfortable with.

“Y-yes but-”

“But nothing.” Geto cuts you off with a sharp press of his fingers against your pulse. Releasing your hold on his arms your hands fly up close to your throat, nerves on edge for what could happen next.

“Be a good little girl and let your big brother take care of you (Y/N).”

“But Choso-”

“Do you think Choso wants an inexperienced little baby who can’t handle having her tits groped a little?” Cocking his head to the side, Geto gives you a look. “Well, what do you think?” You’re at a loss for words and he can tell, a slight uptick to the side of his mouth when you lick your lips nervously.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Exactly, you don’t know. You don’t know any better, so just let Geto-nii take care of you. I’ll get you nice and ready for Choso, baby, don’t you worry.” Closing in on you once again, he kisses you softer this time, lets you ease into the feeling of his lips on yours.

He goes back to touching your breast just as hard as he was before, tugging on your nipple and making you cry out. You tried to tug his fingers off your nipple but it only made it hurt more. Bundling up Geto’s shirt in your hands, you stood against the counter and whimpered as he moved to the other breast.

“Aw, the poor baby’s crying.” He feels your tears on his face before he can see them and when he pulls back he laughs a little. A soft hiccup catches your throat and you unhinge your fingers from his shirt to wipe at the tears that are falling.

“Cause it hurts.” You mumble, a fresh wave of tears springing forth at the same time a warbled cry does as Geto palms both of your breasts roughly. Standing on your tip-toes you try to shimmy away from the overwhelming sensation.

“Who knew you were so sexy when you cry?” Geto isn’t really looking at you, he’s looking at the tears going down your cheeks. It’s making his cock harder by the minute and he leans forward and darts his tongue out, catching the salty stream and running his tongue up your cheek.

“Ew!” Jerking back with a cry, your hands pushing at his bare chest are useless to stop him. Kissing you right at the corner of your eye, Geto finally relents and stands up straight. Furiously wiping your face off, your lip curls in disgust at the feeling of his drying saliva on your cheek.

Planting a hand behind you, Geto shoves his other hand down your shorts. Cupping your sex in his palm, his fingers tentatively prod at your entrance and spread your lower lips with his fingers. His breathing is heavy and right in your ear, heavily entranced with touching your cunt.

Your legs spread of your own accord to let him find your clit easier. You’re still sniffling, a few tears are still welling in your eyes, but a heady feeling is taking over you. The smell of nicotine and a woody body wash roll off Geto in waves, filling the tight space between you and making you flush.

“What a perfect little cunt you have.” Geto groans, his fingers finally catching your clit and lightly pinching it.

“Geto-nii, please.” Your thighs clamp together around his hand when he does it again, the pleasure shooting up your spine almost painful.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Leaning his forehead against you, Geto shoves your legs open again and puts two fingers on your clit. He goes slow at first, savoring the feeling of touching your cunt. There’s a gentle buck to your hips every time he rolls his fingers just right and your fingers are back to gripping his shirt tightly.

Working up the wetness between your thighs, Geto goes down further and nudges your entrance, collecting the slick and bringing it back to your clit. He does this a few times until there’s a distinct wet sound in the air.

“Have you ever had fingers as big as mine in you?” He asks softly as he works his fingers into your cunt, the squeeze of your walls making his head spin.

“No.” That’s the truth and it makes you burn with shame. The only fingers that had been inside you as of late were your own, and even when it was someone else it wasn’t nearly like the stretch you were getting now.

“Right to the fucking knuckle.” Geto grunts, staring right down your shorts at his fingers buried inside you. “You’re so tight I’m surprised you took it all. What a good girl.” He presses a kiss to your temple and pulls his fingers out, stretching the fabric of your shorts as far as it’ll go.

Slamming them back in, Geto wastes no time in fucking you on his fingers. He’d been nice enough to go slow while he played with your clit, but he was tired of it now. He needed to feel your cunt clamp down on his fingers and see you lose yourself from just them alone.

Your mouth hung open dumbly, a gasp caught in your throat at the sudden change of pace. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you couldn’t get any words out as he pounded your cunt. The knuckles of his fingers rubbed against your clit with every stroke, making your legs twitch and threaten to collapse beneath you.

Your orgasm comes before you even know what’s happening, head falling forward and a loud moan finally spilling from your mouth. Grinding your hips down onto his fingers, a jolt goes through you when Getos thumb comes to rub your clit.

“What a good fucking little sister!” He all but cheers for you, grinding his hand on you and pushing in as far as he can to feel every inch of your spongy walls pulse around him. His chest swells with a bit of pride at getting you to cum and he withdraws from your shorts when you relax. Bringing his fingers up to your face, he spread your slick around his fingers. “Look at how messy you are.”

A muffled groan comes from him as he sticks his fingers into his mouth, savoring the flavor of your cunt and rutting against you slightly. It’s a taste he knows he’s now addicted to and his chest gets even bigger at being the first to taste you - something he’s going to hold over Choso’s head for ages.

Just as he’s cleaned his fingers and is about to shove his impossibly tight boxers off, Geto gets a phone call.

“Fuck, right now?” Gritting his teeth he leaves you to slump against the counter as he bounds over to the couch and grabs his phone. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck you!” He rants at his phone before straightening up and clearing his throat. “Hey, what’s up?”

The switch in his tone catches you off guard and your knees knock together when he looks over at you with scarily wide eyes. His nostrils flared as he listened to whoever spoke, he was clearly worked up and being interrupted wasn’t something he was taking lightly.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” Hanging up his phone right after, Geto let it fall from his hands and clatter onto the floor. He didn’t speak any further, only letting out an angry and frustrated groan as he began to collect his clothes.

“What’s going on?” You whispered hesitantly, watching him quickly gather his hair into a bun.

“Fucking work. Fucking- ugh, stupid fucking creative director just had to call a god damn meeting. Doesn’t the bitch know I’m fucking busy?” Getting the last of his things, Geto nearly storms right past you but catches himself at the last moment. “Hey.”

“Hm?” You look at him just in time for him to plant a heavy hand on the back of your neck and kiss you one last time, hard enough to leave your head spinning.

“I got your number from Choso’s phone, make sure to text me back, little sister.” The words rush out of him as he pulls away and you barely understand them but nod all the same. Slipping his shoes on, Geto opens the door and turns to you one last time. “See you later, little sis.”

“B-bye Geto-nii.” You wave goodbye, cheeks flushing at the bright smile he sends you before slamming the door closed and running down the corridor.

It takes far too long for you to push yourself away from the counter after his footsteps have disappeared entirely. The realization of what just transpired hit you, a dull ache throbbing between your legs as you walked to the couch. Your chest tightened up at the memory of how Geto treated you and the feeling of his hands lingered on you.

Checking your phone, there’s a few messages waiting for you. One from your mother asking how your day was going, a few from your brothers and one from Geto.

(Geto): I miss your pretty pussy already little sis

Attached to the message is a picture that makes waves of embarrassed heat go over your body. It’s taken in a bathroom stall at the closest station, the harsh fluorescent lighting casting weird shadows on Getos body. But that’s not what your focus is on, not at all.

What you’re looking at is his hard cock, flushed a deep angry red at the tip and sticky with precum. Geto hiked his shirt up and shoved his pants down on his thighs, the selfie just catching the way his shirt is tucked into his teeth.

He sends you another message, a video this time with a dark thumbnail. You click on it with no hesitation, heart thumping loudly in your chest and ears ringing as the video comes to life.

“Fuck, look what you did to me baby girl.” Geto’s gruff voice is low and hushed, the sounds of other men coming in and out of the bathroom drowning out his soft groans. The camera is held from a down angle right by his head, directed straight at his hand working his cock over in his fist.

There’s a faint wet clicking sound and you can see the way Getos cock glistens in the light. With his mouth right by the receiver you can hear every little grunt and whimper that leaves his mouth and it makes your thighs clench together tightly, cunt aching to be filled by his fingers again.

The hard muscles of his stomach were shuddering with every downstroke, a slight rock to his hips beginning to take form the longer he went. Geto was very wound up, the playtime with his new little sister cut far too short.

“Wish it was you touching me, I’d cum so fast.” His words come out a hushed whisper and the camera shakes as he begins to really fuck his fist. “Just want your cute little mouth wrapped around me-” Geto’s voice was getting higher strung the more he spoke. “Your cunt felt so good around my fingers- want it- need it on my cock-”

Geto nearly dropped his phone as he came, angling his cock up so it shot onto his stomach, painting his tattooed skin in a sticky film of white. A long moan left him and you could practically see him squeezing his eyes shut tightly, fucking his fist through his orgasm until his cock started to get soft.

The video ends without anything else, screen turning black the second he lets go. You don’t realize how tightly your body has wound up from the video, thighs clenched tightly together and a breath caught in your chest.

(Geto): you like it? I bet you’re touching yourself right now, huh?

(Geto): I’m getting on the train now, hopefully Choso will let me come over again tonight after I tell him how good you taste

(Y/N): no don’t tell him!

You frantically send that message a few times but Geto doesn’t respond, just leaves you on read as soon as the message is sent. Despite the heat between your legs your heart starts to pound for a different reason, hands shaking with fear that Geto really will tell Choso what he did to you.

An hour has passed of you sitting on the couch stewing in worry and the sound of the door opening is what brings you out of your stupor and you almost fling your phone across the room in shame. Choso appears in the doorway with a somber expression on his face, giving you a long look as he toes his shoes off.

“Still in your pajamas I see.” He comments, voice low and even. You nod, still unable to speak with the image of Geto milking his cock still fresh in your mind. Walking further into his apartment Choso stifles a sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Why’re you here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” You avoid meeting his steeled gaze, instead focusing on your phone and trying to hide your guilty expression.

“Came home early, thought we could have some lunch together in a cafe before I head back.” Choso’s words are casual but his body language is anything but. With a tight jaw and arms crossed over his chest, you can tell he’s upset.

“What’s wrong?” Your blood begins to run cold as you ask and Choso scoffs, brow quirking in annoyance.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He’s staring directly at you with an unmistakable fire in his eyes. No air fills your lungs as you’re locked into staring back at him, but dread drips slowly down your back. Geto must have told him, that’s why he’s making that face.

“I-I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shaking your head, you move to stand. “I’ll go get changed.” Choso watches you almost run to the bedroom and once you’re there he makes his move.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, huh?” He leans his body against the wall, blocking you from leaving.

“I don’t!” Your voice is getting more defensive by the minute. “I have no idea, Choso-nii.”

“Did he tell you to lie? It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend anymore little sister.” Walking chest to chest with you, Choso stares down his nose at you.

“I’m not lying!” You can feel yourself breaking down, the tension in the air enough to make a painful burning prick behind your eyes and tears threaten to mist your lashes.

“I thought you loved me? Yet you won’t tell me the truth.” Narrowing his eyes, Choso’s hands curl into fists. “Or do you love Geto-nii more now?”

“I don’t love him!”

“No, you must love him otherwise why would you let him touch you like that? Just tell me the fucking truth (Y/N), you care more about Geto now that he made you cum.”

“I don’t-”

“Shut up yes you do. I can’t believe you turned into a stupid little slut who lets anyone touch her.”

“Choso-nii!” Now tears are welling in your eyes the longer you look at him.

“Don’t call me that anymore, I don’t want a little sister like you anymore.” Those words stabbed you right in the heart and Choso could tell by the way a choked gasp came from you. “When I moved out you told me you’d wait for me but I guess that was a lie.”

“I’m sorry!” Tears are falling down your face with no remorse, snot starting to drip out of your nose as well. Gripping Choso’s hoodie in your hands, you refuse to let go as he gives you a hard push. “B-big brother, please!”

“Geto’s your big brother now, not me.”

“No, no he’s not! You are! You are and I love you and I’m sorry!” Bouncing your toes, you wrench your arms around his neck and force him against you. “I didn’t mean to- to do all that.” Choso manages to fling one of your arms off of him and you let out a screech. “No, please!”

“What a good act you’re putting up right now.”

“Big brother!” Burying your face into his hoodie, your nails are nearly clawing through the fabric to feel his skin underneath. “I-I’ll do anything, please don’t do this!”

“You’ll do anything? Is that what you told Geto?”

“No!” Pulling back with horribly blurry vision, you blink fat tears down your cheeks. As your gaze slowly focuses on Choso you’re met with his hollow blank expression. Your chest is heaving as you try to calm down, try to find some other words to say to convince him not to abandon you.

Face unbearably hot and mind clouded with emotion, you lurch forward and push your lips onto his. The kiss is awkward, the angle at which you came at him making your noses bump together uncomfortably.

“Please, please, please.” You beg against his lips, your tears staining his face from how close you are. “Don’t be mad, please.” Kissing him all over his face, you don’t feel his expression change.

“Tell me where he touched you.” Choso says, effectively pushing you away from him in one go.

“What?”

“Tell me where he touched you.” He repeats, pushing you to the bed. Your knees buckle as soon as they meet the mattress and you fall down across the messy sheets. Stripping off his hoodie and pants, you can see the outline of his cock when his shirt moves.

“He…” You begin, but stop as Choso sinks both knees into the mattress and straddles you.

“Go on.” He grabs your chin and forces your head to tilt up.

“First he kissed me.” One of your hands comes up, gesturing to all the places on your face where he kissed you.

“With his tongue, too?” Choso’s eyes dart around your face and he grimaces when you nod. “Bastard.” Gripping your chin harder, Choso leans down and kisses your wet cheek, the tip of his tongue lightly grazing your skin to drink in your tears.

“Choso-nii!” Squirming as the slimy appendage follows along with his lips, you yelp when he gets to your ear and licks there too.

“Geto was right about one thing - you’re fucking hot when you cry.” Blowing cool air over your ear, he goes back to your lips. They’re much drier than Geto’s but you like it, let his tongue in immediately when he pushes it in.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer. Your mouths slot together, drool beginning to drip down your face as Choso pushes more of himself on you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he ruts into your shorts, his cock coming to life.

“Where else?” His voice is raspy when he pulls away and he doesn’t go far.

“Here.” You shake your shoulders side to side, making your breasts move under your shirt. Choso hikes your shirt up over your breasts, your nipples already hard and waiting for him.

“Look at you, my pretty little sister.” With an unwavering gaze, Choso smooths his palms over your breasts. “Geto really touched you here with his dirty hands?”

“Y-yeah, he was too rough. It hurt a lot.” Choso nodded as you spoke, running soft fingers over your nipples and taking them gently between his fingers.

“Geto is a big meanie, hurting my baby like that.” He chided and leaned down to plant a kiss between your breasts. “I told him to be gentle too.” Choso begins to pepper kisses all over your chest. “He promised he’d wait until we got back home from work but the bastard just couldn’t help himself, huh?”

“What?”

“Geto and I wanted to give you a gift tonight but it seems he was unable to wait.” Cupping your breasts, Choso flicked one of your nipples with his tongue making you jump. “I told him he had to wait for me to be there, I know how rough he can get with girls. And it seems I wasn’t mistaken.”

Kissing you before you have the chance to really think about the words he said, Choso gropes your breasts softly. It’s a stark contrast to how rough Geto had been, when Choso rolls your nipples between his fingers you don’t try to get away.

Littering kisses down your neck, Choso sucks on your nipples gently, grazing them with his teeth and running his hands up and down your sides. With every pleasurable wave that goes through you, you buck your hips up into his, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against you making you more excited.

“He touched you here too, I know that.” Choso says with his mouth pressed against your chest, his hand pushing between your bodies to cup your sex through your shorts. “Was he rough here, too?”

“A little.”

“Geto-nii really is just a big jerk, isn’t he?” He asks you with a soft smile, running his other hand over your face and cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, a big meanie.” You pout up at him, nuzzling your cheek into his hand.

“I’ll make you feel all better, don’t worry baby.” Unraveling his body from yours, he nudges you up the bed. “Take your clothes off and put your head on the pillow, get comfortable for me.”

You immediately do as he says, stripping yourself bare in record time. Choso steps back to take his clothes off as well and his cock slaps against his stomach when he takes off his underwear.

Crawling back onto the bed, Choso falls face first between your legs, catching himself on his elbows. He’s directly facing your cunt, his nose is so close he wouldn’t need to lean far at all to put it on you.

“Choso-nii.” Your head falls back with a sigh against the pillows as he runs his hands over your inner thighs, spreading your lips and exposing your leaking cunt for him.

“What a pretty fucking pussy you have, Geto was right about that too.” Blowing air onto you, he chuckles softly when your hole clenches around nothing. Leaning forward, Choso places a gentle kiss on your clit and your thighs nearly clamp around him.

“Choso!” A hand flies down to grip his hair as his lips wrap around your clit, his thumb pulling back the hood. The action is enough to make your thighs wrap around his head, your hips bucking high off the bed the longer he runs his tongue over you.

Choso doesn’t mind the squeeze, he welcomes it in fact and wraps an arm around your leg, pulling you closer to his face. A series of heady pants leave your mouth, eyes rolling back when he gives a brief, sharp suck.

Letting go of your clit, Choso pushes his face deeper into your cunt and worms his tongue inside you. Lapping at your walls Choso groans as you tighten around his tongue, your essence flowing into his mouth that he swallows eagerly. There’s drool beginning to pool on his lower lip, dripping down the crack of your ass and staining his bed.

Getting drunk off the taste of your cunt, Choso ruts against the bed as he fucks you with his tongue. More groans come from deep within his chest and when your hips buck up into him he rides the motion, encouraging you to do it more.

Going back to your clit, Choso wiggles two fingers between your legs and pushes them deep inside you. His fingers aren’t as long as Geto’s but they’re thicker, stretching you in a way the other man simply could not. The rough calluses on your brothers fingers served him well, the extra friction on that special spot inside you making you keen.

“Go ahead and cum, (Y/N), use me for your pleasure.” Choso’s breathless as he speaks, forcing his head up from the vice grip you’re holding him in.

“Choso-nii, please-” Your entire back is arched high off the bed, your hips canting up to fuck yourself on his fingers. Choso bites his lip and watches your face contort for a moment before diving back down and honing in on your clit.

His fingers inside you go slower than Getos, milking the feeling of your walls around him for as long as possible. The pace is almost unbearable and not enough, but his mouth on your clit makes up for it.

As you cum the hand grabbing Choso’s hair tightens, pushing his face deeper into you as you ride out the waves. A loud, unabashed moan comes from you, whatever neighbors are home next door have definitely heard it. Choso fucks you through your orgasm, mouth going down to catch your release.

When your body finally relaxes is when Choso comes up from between your legs. His face is smeared with his spit and your slick and he wipes it off on the back of his hand, catching his breath as he moves over you and hooks your legs back around his waist.

“Are you ready, baby?” The tip of his cock is dragging up and down your slit, making the growing fuzziness in your head even stronger. You nod, eager to have him inside you. “Use your words.”

“I’m- I’m ready.” You speak with a heavy tongue, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders in an attempt to get him closer. Satisfied, Choso pushes in with little resistance, his cock gliding in easily with the amount of slick you have.

“Fuck-” He chokes as he bottoms out, a delicious shiver running through him. Chosos cock is thick like his fingers are, stretching you out and making you squirm. Panting and heaving, he draws out halfway and pushes back in with the wet squelching of your cunt around him.

“Big brother!” Your nails dig into his back, hips rising to meet his slow thrusting. His back bows deeply, trying to keep as much control as he can over himself. All Choso wants to do is sit back and pound into you, make you cream all over him and maybe even squirt.

But he takes his time, working his cock into you at a nice and even pace. He has a point to prove, that he’s better than Geto and that he’ll treat you better. He knows he will, knows he can, but he needs you to know it too.

Digging your feet into his lower back, you huff. Being fucked by Choso is better than you could ever imagine, the veins on his cock dragging across your walls wonderfully, but you need more. This slow pace can only keep you satisfied for so long.

“Getting impatient?” Choso chuckles, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. Curling his fists into the pillow beneath you, Choso snaps his hips into yours. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.”

Choso slowly increased the speed of his hips, the slapping of wet skin against skin getting louder and louder. The control he had was slipping away with every thrust, his lip caught tightly between his teeth as he watched your eyes roll back.

“Choso-nii, ah- ah-” The moans coming out of your mouth were so pretty Choso held his breath to be able to hear them better. He tried to keep his head upright to stare at you, but the drag of his heavy cock inside you was making it impossible.

Dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck, Choso kissed and sucked on your flesh as he fucked you. Your body rocked with every thrust, a moan spilling out every time he bottomed out and nails dragging down his back.

“Take my cock so fucking well-” Choso panted, grabbing under your ass to angle your hips higher. “My lil sis so good to me-” His head was clouding up from pleasure and his words dissolved into babbles.

Chosos teeth scraped against your neck as he spoke, adding to all the sensations washing over you. You moaned right along with what he was saying even though half of his words didn’t make it to your ear, muffled by his mouth pressed against your neck.

A squeal ripped through you as Choso clumsily rubbed your clit, making you tighten around him even harder. He growled deep from his chest, it was becoming almost impossible to drag his cock out of you.

“Choso-nii! I’m- ah-” Tears pricked your lashes you squeezed your eyes so hard together. The pleasure was coming to a head, making your ears ring and mouth fall open in a perfect O. Strained moans broke through, echoed by sharp gasps of air you forced into your lungs.

At the sound of you coming undone, Choso came as well. His hips went even faster, chasing the high for as long as he could. Your cunt gushed around him, mixing with the seed he was pumping into you and creating an even bigger mess on his sheets.

Choso slammed his lips onto yours, desperate to take as much as you could give him. His fingers didn’t stop moving on your clit until you feebly pushed his hand away, and that’s when he knew he could slow down.

“I love you.” Choso says immediately after he stops moving, his body buzzing with happy hormones and a drunken smile is on his face.

“I love you too!” You reply quickly, still trying to catch your breath. Choso stays buried inside you until his cock goes soft and then he pulls out slowly, watching his cum string along his cock and keeping the two of you connected.

“You did so well for me.” He mused, falling to your side and closing his eyes. He’s already pulling you into a side hug before he can even think, throwing the blankets over the two of you to keep the chill from evaporating sweat away.

You lay quietly together, catching your breath and sharing soft kisses together. Your heart is absolutely full of love for Choso, and a smile threatens to never leave your face. It strains your cheeks and makes them ache but you don’t try to push it away.

“How about we get some lunch now?” Choso asks after twenty minutes.

“Okay.” Nodding softly, you make no move to get up from his hold, instead curling into him even more and staying there for another few minutes.

“Alright, let’s really get up now.” Rocking back and forth, Choso rolls on top of you for a moment before rolling completely off the bed. “I’m fucking starving.”

You get dressed after Choso cleans his cum from between your thighs, giving you soft kisses on your stomach and hips as he does so. He keeps an arm around you the entire time, never letting you stray too far from him as you walk to the front door.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” He stops right as you open the front door.

“Yes?”

“Give me your phone, I’m blocking Geto’s number and deleting those fucking nudes.”

#tw: incest #tw: dubcon #tw: infantilization #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso #choso x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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knowing me, knowing you {steve rogers}

summary: breaking up is never easy - but it's the best thing you can do (yes, it's based on the song by abba and no, i have no regrets)

warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing

i don't even know what possessed me to write this but? i've been neck deep in angst rn and sometimes, it's nice to explore a healthy break up bc shit happens. enjoy!!

- jazz xx

In the middle of Brooklyn, about twenty minutes away from the Bridge, there was an unassuming townhouse. It stood between several other identical brownstones, with a messy garden and unkempt tangles of bushes - you nor Steve never had the time to tend to do it, with your jobs and your lives pulling you in a thousand different directions. The inside, though? That was what had mattered. It was filled with years of memories - photos of you on the fridge, ticket stubs from your trips to the movies, clutter from so many Christmases and birthdays - that were all contained between the four walls. Home had been important to Steve, given how often he'd moved around. And it couldn't have been that home without you.

Now you were stood at the foot of the front garden, a pile of collapsed boxes resting in your arms. The last time you'd been here was when you and Steve had tried to talk it out -- it had ended with the door slamming behind you. The conversation had ended badly, but your relationship had ended even worse. And even though you had both tried to hard to blame one another, finding fault had been hard. You'd just...fallen out of love. It wasn't something either of you could help, nor was it something you could force. Your frustration and anger, and the shouting and fights, had never been at Steve, but rather the situation. He had always said that finding you, and simultaneously loving you, had come out of nowhere; it was something he had never sought out. You were just there one day, and it changed everything.

Sighing to yourself, you headed up the path and towards the front door. You'd been dreading this day for months -- moving out years worth of stuff, and trying through bleary eyes not to look at the photos on the wall or the millions of little reminders that your relationship had left behind in its wake. There was a dent in the hallway, from your first Thanksgiving in the house when Steve had gotten a little too drunk, and the massive crack in the kitchen floor from where you'd managed to drop the kettle. It was littered with memories and callbacks and evocations. The house was haunted with the ghosts of what was, and what could have been.

You could at least take comfort in the fact that you'd tried - several times, actually. There had been couples counselling and forced, romantic getaways in a last-ditch attempt to trigger something, anything, to get back your dying spark. It made it better and worst - better, because you knew that you'd done everything in your power to salvage things, but worst, because it had all been a waste. A sign that your relationship had gotten so bad that it had crossed the point of no return.

Sometimes, breaking up was the best thing to do. It hurt now, but it hurt much less in the long term compared to what could have been if you'd stayed together.

Placing the boxes by the door, you shut it behind you and quietly crept inside. There had been no communication with Steve other than a few horribly formal emails - after all, you did still work together - detailing your plans to sort the house out. It had been sitting derelict for months, your former home collecting dust. He'd sought refuge at Bucky's loft across the River, whilst you'd been hiding out in Natasha's spare room.

It felt odd being back; nostalgic and painful all at once. So much had happened in these four walls - good and bad, memorable and mundane - and you were feeling it all at once. It was seeping in through the cracks of your mind, the same way the tension had slipped through the cracks in the old walls and questionable foundations. It didn't matter that the place had been falling apart, because it had been so loved.

"I...I didn't realise you were coming today."

You froze at the sound of Steve's voice. He was stood in the kitchen, navy bomber jacket slung over one shoulder and a box of his belongings in his free hand. Hadn't you said that you coming today? Tomorrow was meant to be his moving day.

"Yeah," you swallowed. "I said in the email."

"Sorry, I must have misread it." He sheepishly admitted. "I was just gonna get my stuff and go."

"Me too," you nodded. "Figured it might take a while though."

"You do own a lot of crap," Steve gently smiled. "I just put the kettle on. Do you want a coffee?"

"Uh," your eyes fell to the floor, "I should probably just-"

"- it's just a coffee." Steve cut you off.

"Yeah, okay then."

You awkwardly took a seat at the breakfast bar beside him. God, was this really what it had come to? This time last year, you would have just been waking up and strolling into the kitchen, greeting your super soldier with a kiss as he prepared breakfast. You had a routine - you had a life. But that was exactly it, wasn't it? Life. You and Steve of all people knew how fucking unexpected things could be; how many curveballs and challenges could be thrown your way. In an odd way, your break-up had been even less expected than Ultron and Loki and HYDRA.

"It'll have to be black coffee," Steve said. "We only have coffee out the jar. No-one's been here for months."

"I know," you nodded. "I did used to live here, remember?"

"I think I'm having a hard time not remembering, to be honest," He said. "Being here is harder than I thought it would be."

"Yeah, I get that." You took the mug out his hands, giving him a small nod. "All this feels a lot scarier than aliens and robots."

"Ah, well," Steve tried to brush it off. "I never noticed how badly we beat up the place."

"Do you mean the dent in the hallway, or the crack in the floor?" You found yourself smiling.

"I meant the hair dye stains in the bathroom and the smashed window in the basement," he shot back.

"That was both of us. You wanted to play football inside, remember?"

"Only because you had got me drunk," he countered. "I don't think we'll get our deposit back."

"Y'think?" You quirked an eyebrow.

An odd silence fell over you. It was the first time in months that you were talking - and now that the pressure of being in a relationship was suddenly off your shoulders, some of the tension had faded away. When you took a step back and brushed aside the ashes of what had once been, there was still...something. Not love, and not a relationship, but the same common ground and interests that had brought you together in the first place. It was worth holding onto.

"Do you remember that time that your parents came to visit and you forgot to tell me?" Steve recalled with a soft smile, "and your dad just strolled in on me in the shower."

"It's not any worst than the time you gave Bucky a spare key and he broke in in the middle of the night to get milk for his fucking coffee," you chuckled.

"It was a good few years."

"It was," your eyes fell down to the dark bubbles of the coffee in front of you. "Pride and all that aside, I'm sorry it ended how it did."

"Hey, it's okay," Steve gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, "it's no-one's fault. These things happen."

"I know," you said, "I just...we had a good thing going, didn't we?"

"We did, but we also did everything we could to try and fix things." He replied.

"And we couldn't," you recalled. "I know that breaking up was the easy thing-"

"- it wasn't," Steve cut you off. "But it was the right thing, wasn't it? Because we made each other miserable."

"As partners, yeah," you nodded, "but what about friends?"

Your eyes met again, and he smiled. "Yeah. I think we can manage that."

Admitting defeat was hard, but if it was what you needed to do in order to stay in each other's lives? It was the best you could do.

tags: @agent-catfish-kenobi

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rimaiahwrites · 4 years ago

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Untitled—

Chapter six

Erik slowly pulled his arm from underneath Israel's head without waking her then pulled the covers up to her face, since he had it freezing in his loft.

He swung his Heavy leg over the edge of his bed and stepped on his hard wood stairs that laid up to his bed slowly so it wouldn't creek or crack. He slipped away from the comfort of his bed and made it out of his room without a sound. Even though the sounds of his bare feet slapping against the floor in the hallway was still heard, Israel didn't make a move.

He flicked the lights on in the kitchen, and snatched the refrigerator door open. He mostly had vegetables, fruit and water. It had been like that since He had started a healthy life style after he came back from the navy.

He grabbed his glass bottle of water and chugged it down. That early morning thrust was real. After he was done he refilled the bottle of water before putting it back in the fridge for his afternoon workout.

Erik went back into the living room and pulled his rug back to reveal his hardwood floors. He pulled one of the wooden boards up and reach up inside to grab his father's old leather Journal. It was slightly beaten up from the many years of his father using it but none the less it was still very beautiful.

his balcony doors blow open from the Wind and he pulled the cream white Curtains back and stepped out. The air was cool but not to cold.

It felt good against his skin. Over the few markings that he had on his torso- about 400 plus, all in rows around his torso. Some were still healing and sensitive.

Erik was actually still surprised that Israel's nosey ass hadn't spotted them on him yet. He knew that once she had, she will ask him a Thousand and one questions about them. And Erik wasn't really ready for that since he knew he couldn't tell her the real reason he marked himself, at least not yet.

He sat in the big chair that he had hanging to the top of his roof. It swayed from side to side when it was windy or when ever Erik sown it himself. It was soothing though. His balcony was one of the places he liked to meditate and clear his mind. He could look down below, and see businessmen in suits and looking for a taxi, and kids heading off to school with big backpack bouncing against them from running to the bus stop. It was regular city life for him.

He loved the city but hated the memories it came with. He had lost to much in it. First his mother then his father, and so many of his childhood friends had lost their lives to the city they called home. So many time had the city almost taken his life as well, from being beaten on the street by police officers, or being held at gun point at 15, by a local drug dealer that Erik had considered one of his niggas.

The city had done him so wrong but yet here he was, still living in Oakland. Just in a better spot then the apartment that he had spent ten years of his life in.

Erik sighed and sat back down and open his father book. He liked to reread it to keep him motivated and focused on his Destiny. The foreign words of his father language, that he had learned to read over the years, popped out against the old- now brownish- paper. Erik flipped to the page titled, the prince is here.

My son, my prince, my happiness have finally arrived. More Beautiful then I could ever imagine, dark brown eyes like his mother and a head full of thick black kinky hair like me.

The happiness that spread through my body the moment my eyes laid on him I knew I was in love. This was a different type of love, not like the kind of love you have for your mother or your wife it was a kind of love that only a mother or father could have for their child-

Erik read with tears beaming his eyes. Not letting them fall once. Erik slammed the book shut clenching it in his hands, as he leaned forward staring at it. It didn't make him sad, it made his angry. He was so angry at his father and it confused him so deeply since he knew his father had no control over what happened to him.

Maybe it wasn't anger towards his father, but pain that he turned into anger like he always did. And he was tired of it, the anger that had been building up inside him ever since he found his father dead, on his Apartment floor with panther Panther claw marks in his chest, that came from the man his father called brother.

That's where his real anger was towards, his family. Erik couldn't even call it anger, it was rage. He knew that once he met his uncle all hell was going to break loss. All the pain and rage he had inside of him was going to be released. As soon as he got to wrap his hands around T'chaka fat ass neck, and hear that satisfying crunk that came after he squeeze with all his might. And then his cousin t'challa, was next because he knew that once he killed T'chaka his son was going to go after him. But he was going to prepared.

Israel rolled over on the bed and look over the loft bed. Erik wasn't in the living room or kitchen. She had thought that maybe he had left, until she saw the balcony curtains blow up from the door being open. She smiled slightly and peeled the thick blankets back and headed down the stairs. The little cracking sounds the wooden stairs made as she tip-toed down sparked Erik's interest, he closed the opened book again, and sat it behind the pillow he had on his swinging chair.

He leaned back into the door frame and spotted Israel on the stairs with a grin on her face. "Hi." She whispered softly so her voice didn't sound raspy from not talking for hours at a time.

"You always wake up in a good mood?" He asked getting up from the balcony ground and walking up to her. She chuckled and shrugged. "When I get a good night of sleep, yeah." She said looking down at him into his eyes, that were still slightly red from earlier. Since she was about three stairs above him, She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned towards him. "Um...Thank you for last night, I had fun. It was the first time in a long time that I have felt like someone actually wanted to hang and spend time with me..." she admitted, looking down at his chest as she fiddled with his shirt. He rested his hands on her waist and squeezed lightly. "You don't have to thank me princess, I enjoy hanging wit' you." He spoke softly, brushing her face with his knuckles. Slightly pushing her face to the side.

Her gut felt bubbly with happiness, and her cheeks were starting to hurt with how hard she was smiling. And Erik only made it harder for her to stop from the way he was looking at her.

That look he gave her. The one were he would title his head like a puppy and lick his lips while keeping Direct eye contact.

The thigh clenching look if you will.

"You hungry?" He asked, picking her up and swinging her off the stairs to the bottom. "No not really, I don't like to eat breakfast that much because I'm never that hungry." She said sitting at the kitchen counter. His eyes raised and he turned to her.

"You gotta eat breakfast Israel, that's the most important meal of the day." She rolled her eyes because she had heard it so many time before from her mother. "I know I just don't like breakfast-"

"I'm making you breakfast, and you gon' eat it." Erik said turning around to the refrigerator to grab the stuff he needed.

And A word wasn't said as Erik handed Israel the plate of two prices of Turkey bacon one pancake, and a small glass of a mango kiwi and strawberry smoothie that he sweetened with orange juice.

He tried not to give her much but she still felt like it was to much food for right now. It he gave it to her at like 12 am in the afternoon she would most likely still be hungry afterwards.

She stared at the plate and then back at Erik, a pout on her lips. He nodded his head, as if telling her to go ahead and start eating. She sighed and grabbed a fork and began to eat, Erik as well. But his plate was stuffed. Three pancakes, three prices of bacon, and the rest of the plate was taken up by the four scrambled eggs. He was a big boy and needed all the food he could get.

"Is it good?" He asked, month full of food.

"Yeah, it's good even though your Force feeding me it." She chuckled taking another small bite. Erik gave her a close month smile, chewing his bacon aggressively.

"You'll get used to it, eventually your body will want to eat in the morning, anyway your parents call you yet?" She shook her head, taking a sip of her smoothie. "No, I don't know what's going on but hopefully my mother calls soon to fill me in and let me know they made it there safe." She said her thoughts wondering off a bit.

After they were done eating Erik decided he wanted to workout at his favorite boxing gym. So they both got dressed quickly, Israel just put on a white oversized t-shirt and a pair of gray leggings and her white nike sneakers, while Erik wore black baseball shorts a dark gray workout shirt and black running shoes.

Once Erik grabbed his bag they were at the door and headed to the gym.

Erik turned into the parking lot Of his boxing gym named the home of Apollo Creed. Israel raised her eyebrows but she went with it. Erik opened her door while he throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. "A boxing gym?" She questioned following him inside the cold building. There was about ten different sweating men hitting at punching bags or at their couch Gloved hands.

"Yes, that's what the sign says right?" He chuckled dropping his bag on the floor. She rolled her eyes at his slick reply and plopped Down on the bench near his gym bag, "you didn't tell me it was a boxing gym but k, smart ass." She mumbled, watching him watch her while he put on the thin black gloves that fighters put on before the actual boxing gloves. He was clearly not new at this because he wasn't paying much attention to his movements, he was staring at Israel. Something she had noticed he tends to do a lot. But they were even because she caught herself staring at him today more times then she'll like to amid.

"Come on," he smiled pulling her across the gym catching some of the busy men eyes, there was a couple of "damn Erik who dis?" And "this yo new girl?" Erik only grinned, winking at them. While Israel tried to hide herself behind him. Erik noticed and chuckled softly before hugging her to his side.

"You bout to get a couple of boxing lessons for free, by thee Erik Stevens." He sang playfully making her crack a smile. He turned around to look in the big box of gloves and found some pink ones from the little 15 year old girl that used to box here. They looked like they could fit. "Come here, gimme your hand." She slide both her hands in the glove and smiled at how cute they looked on her. "Tiny ass hands," Erik mumbled jokily making her roll her eyes and giggle. "Big ass hands...hulk smash face ass 'I'm Wreck-It' neck ass-" She shot back. he laughed loudly throwing his head back before telling her to "shut the hell up before I knock you out." She just rolled her eyes.

" Ok we're gonna start with a simple, 1,2." He explained taking jabs at the air, making his Biceps and man Titties bounce, In the form fitted workout shirt he changed into in the car. She copied the simple move but aiming at his hands this time. "Ok we gonna do that same move but with a duck added to it," he beamed, excited that she was catching on so soon. "Hit, hit, duck." She moved fast dodging his hand. "This is kinda fun but-" Israel began but was cut short by a high pitched voice and a light skin girl with long loss curls came walking to Erik.

"Erik?! Is that you?!? I haven't seen you in so long," she was so tall that she was almost Erik's height. Israel felt like a child standing next to them.

"This is my homegirl from back in the day, Erie." Israel smiled and waved shyly. "Aw is this your little sister?" Erie smiled sarcastically bending down a bit sticking her hand out for Israel to shake, Israel's smile dropped and things got awkward quickly when Israel didn't grab her hand and only stared at the girl.

"Um Nah this is a good friend of mine, but uh it was nice seeing you Erie." Erik chuckled while dismissing the girl trying to hold in his laughter.

"Oh...well I'll see you later I guess, you should Dm some Time so we can really catch up without..." She tailed off glancing at Israel before smirking at Erik and walking off, making sure to make her ass bounce with every step she took. Israel tore her eyes from her and rolled them. While Erik was busy starring at her ass Israel began to take her gloves off, using her teeth to undo the Velcro on her gloves. The tearing sound brought Erik's attention back to Israel. "What are you doing we still-"

"I'm not really feeling it anymore plus my arms are already getting tired." She huffed swinging her arms back and fourth trying to shake the 'soreness' out of them. Erik mumbled a "yeah already." knowing why she wasn't really feeling it anymore, he left her to sit on the ground while he went and found his trainer, RJ. Erik had been working with Him since he was 15, RJ was one of the only people that Erik felt like care for him when he was Foster care. RJ had found Erik fighting a boy a little older then him outside of a gas station and praised him for how good of a fight was and encouraged him to get into. Erik was definitely hesitant about it at first but RJ eventually convince Erik to do it especially since he was going to be training him for free. It was a way for Erik to blow off some steam with all the Pent up anger he had for the world, RJ was just happy to keep him off the streets. He knew the kid was A genius, he was too smart to end up in jail or dead.

It had been two hours since Erik had been training and two hours since Israel been sitting on the hard floor but she barely noticed the numbness in her butt and legs because she was to busy drooling over Erik's delicious body, it was shiny in sweat and his movements were Swift and fast. The faster he hit the punching bag the more his muscles jumped and bounced, Israel don't know how many she licked her lips or clinched her thighs together but she knew her lips were going to be raw and she would have to take a shower as soon as she got home, she didn't care though it was Worth it. She'll sit here all day and night if that meant she could watch him. She wasn't the only one enjoying this whole situation so was Erik. he knew she was watching his every move, she tried to act like she wasn't but she made it very obvious that she was checking him out, but he liked the attention. He liked how easily he can drawl women's attention without even trying. He had her eyes glued to him, not only hers but Erie's too. He caught her staring at him multiple times but instead of scaring away whenever he caught her she locked eyes with him, giving him very seductive look. Erik only chuckled at her Poor attempt and backed over to Israel to grab his ice cold water bottle. Her breath hitched as he reached over her, his hot body almost pressing against her. The scent of his sweat and actual body odor mix with his deodorant made her mouth water. She wanted so badly to reach up and touch his torso but held herself back, sparing herself the embarrassment of rejection. "Are you done?" "Yeah Come on someone wants to meet you before we leave," he said grabbing her hand to help her off the ground. The feeling in her legs started to come back finally as she made her way over to the punching bag. "Israel this my nigga RJ, we go way back." RJ smile brightly at the girl and extended his hand out to her. "Nice to meet you." She beamed at the handsome older man, holding his hand longer then she intended to. RJ didn't mind at all though. They both broke apart when Erik cleared his throat real obnoxiously eyeing the both of them like they stole something from him. "Nigga Y'all tryin' fuck later or what? The fuck." Erik hissed bluntly more so towards RJ, he was way to old to be looking at Israel any type way. He was in his early 40s and Israel was in her late teens, that shit didn't really sit right with Erik. Israel became tense and RJ just dismissed Erik's out burst rolling his eyes and punching him In the arm with the foam glove.

"Shut yo dumb ass up Erik, anyway it I was just trying to see what your name was and shit for later..." Erik's face scrunch up in discussed as he pulled Israel behind his back. "Nigga you old as dirt still trying to flirt with young girls....grow up." Erik chuckled grabbing his bag and Israel's hand pulling her behind him. "Ok and? I'm aging like fine wine, ain't that right baby girl?" He raised a eyebrow at Israel making her turn her face away to hide her smile from the both of them knowing that they'll probably just clown her. "More like milk, anyway I'll see yo old ass later." Erik dabbed him up and left making sure Israel was right behind him. He opened the door for her and she climbed in, putting her Seatbelt on without him having to tell her too this time. Erik got in next making the car bounce a little from how big he was. "Don't pay that old ass nigga no attention, he do that to all the girls that come in to the gym. He swear he's charming-"

"Welllllll......" Israel tailed off

"Woooooow....." was all Erik said before slumping down into his seat. "He fine." Israel laughed widely shrugged her shoulders. "Hell Nah He could be your dad or some shit he's like that old ass uncle at the cookout that get drunk before the party even start." Israel giggled wildly because she does really have a uncle that showed up to the family events already drunk. After their laughter died down things got quite. Like it always seemed to happen when they were by their selves. It wasn't necessarily a awkward Silent just a little uncomfortable, the type when you don't know what Else to say to keep the conversation going but Israel still enjoyed his company.

It was nice finally being around a man, it felt familiar to her. She was always only around boys and men growing up most of the time since she had no younger or older sister in the house, plus the girls that she did have In her family like her aunts and older female cousins were rude and bitchy for no reason so she stuck with just hanging around the boys. it was what she was used to and most comfortable with.

Erik's deep voice shook her out of her train of thought and now her eyes were staring into his trying to focus on what he was talking about. "Huh?" She said trying to process what he said. "I'm gonna drop you off at home."

She pouted and huffed out her breath before mumbling "I don't want to go home, why can't I just stay with you?" Erik chuckled dryly. "Because I got other shit to do Israel." The sternness in his voice jumped out and Israel was just about to let her bratty personality show but quickly caught herself.

She was really quite the rest of the ride this time, extremely quite. Erik only chuckled at her for being mad that she was going home instead of with him, but he didn't give a fuck. He had other shit to do like he said.

"So you not gon' talk?" She shrugged before turning on the radio. Erik turned it off. "Don't touch my radio, answer my question."

"What?" She asked as if she didn't hear him the first time round. "You wanna stay with me?" She nodded with puppy dog eyes. He almost melted. Almost.

"Mm." He hummed pulling up to her house. She pouted And huffed, annoyed with him playing with her. "Whatever." She snapped before grabbing her phone out of his lap and slamming his car door shut. She heard Erik's annoying laugh loud and clear as she stomped her way up the steps to her door. Erik's slowly pulled away making sure she got in safely and when she did he speed away.

Soon as he stopped at a red light he grabbed his phone and went to his new contact: Israel (with the pleading face emoji) since it described her best. His fingers work at the speed of light as he tried to send the text before the lights turn green.

Good night, princess. Imma see you soon so you don't gotta pout and shit alright? He sent and almost instantly she read it. The gray dots appeared and vanished then reappeared and then her rely popped on his screen. Ok :) it was simple but it made him smile.

He almost sent her a text back but decided to just leave it at that. She was happy and fine now so there was no need to reply back.

_________

Sorry about the weird spacing in some areas Tumblr be weird sometimes with that.

#black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #erik stevens fanfiction #erik stevens fic #erik x oc #black panther #killmonger x oc #killmonger fic #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #killmonger imagine

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skieswords · 5 years ago

Text

Pull Through Part 5

Please make sure you read the warnings in part 1❤️

"Fuck. Wake up boys, we're late." Becca's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Alex's voice, and the first thing she noticed was the warm chest her cheek was resting on, and the hand pressed against the small of her back. Luke groaned, and opened his eyes, looking down to see a mess of curls lying on top of him, and feeling Becca's t-shirt in his hand. She was on top of him, her blue eyes looking up at him in surprise. "Uh, morning." Luke grinned as Becca buried her face in his chest again, groaning into his t-shirt. They looked to their left and found Reggie staring at them, his hair sticking up in all directions. "Did you

two...?" He pointed between them, eyes wide. Becca's jaw dropped in horror, and she jumped off Luke, accidentally kneeing him in the stomach. He groaned and buried his face in a cushion, hiding the furious blush spreading up his neck, while Becca smiled apologetically and ran a hand through her hair. "No, we didn't. Gross." Alex came in, car keys in hand, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. "Morning Bex. Luke, a word?" He shot a glare at Luke, who was now sat up on the sofa, rubbing his temples gently. He held his hands up towards Alex, and shuffled through to the bathroom, pulling his shoes on as he hopped. "Bex. Car. Now." Alex was pissed, and Becca sighed as she laced her converse, looking over her outfit. "I need to get changed. I have clothes in the l-" She was interrupted by Reggie dropping a bag on the floor from the loft, a collection of Becca's clothes from over the years. "Loft. Thanks Reg." She knelt down and started raking through the clothes, blinking desperately to keep herself awake. A few moments later, she'd yanked an old band t-shirt over her head, and tossed her curls into a messy ponytail, and was now trying to pull her shorts down in the mirror, groaning when they didn't budge. "I'm going to get dress-coded. Alex can I just skip?" Alex laughed from behind her and tugged her ponytail gently, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall. "Mom and dad are already going to kill me for having you out all night, the least I can do is force you to go to school." She stuck her tongue out at him, and gave up, hoping the tights would be enough the satisfy Ms Carlisle. The bathroom door opened, and Luke emerged looking slightly more awake than he had when they first woke up. He made eye contact with Becca and cleared his throat, glancing at Alex as she blushed and ran into the bathroom. "Seriously dude? The literal minute she turns 16 and you're after her." Luke shook his head and snorted. "Not a chance. You know how we see her. Little sister, all the way." He looked into Alex eyes, hoping his best friend bought it. They'd known since they were 12, Becca was totally off limits to the boys. Something about not wanting his little sister mixed up with rockstars- although he had a feeling that wasn't the actual reason. Becca listened to their exchange through the bathroom door, sadness clouding her eyes. She'd hoped that after last night, with Luke telling her all that stuff about being on stage, that they might have grown closer. She'd fancied the boy since she was 13- and over the last year, having shared a lot of laughs during rehearsals, she'd developed a full blown crush. But he clearly didn't feel the same.

"Bex! Where were you last night? I tried calling but your mom picked up, said you were studying..." Becca nodded slowly, realising that must have been the lie Alex spun to her parents. "Yeah, I had a ton of math work to catch up on." This was feasible. The entire class knew about Becca's turbulent relationship with the math department. Ray nodded and leaned up against the locker next to hers, taking in her appearance. "You're gonna get in so much trouble for that- Ms C is in an evil mood." Becca groaned and slammed her head against her locker door, shoving a textbook into her bag as she turned to face Ray. "I'll just avoid her. It'll be fine." He grinned and reached into his bag, holding out a messily wrapped box. "Happy birthday." She couldn't help but smile back at him, rolling her eyes and reaching out to take the box. "Thank you. You shouldn't have though, I told you I don't like my birthday." He shrugged and watched with eager eyes as she tore off the paper, opening her locker to throw it in as it fell. "No you didn't. Ray!" She threw her arms around his neck, the box pressed between them. "I noticed your wheels were looking kinda wonky the other day, so. Here you go. Can you come tonight? I'll put them on for you." Becca smiled at him and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Yeah, yeah I think so. Thank you, Ray." He'd gotten her a set of new wheels for her skateboard, which she desperately needed. A blowout with her dad a few weeks back had resulted in him tossing her board out the 3rd floor window, and had sent the front wheel off to the left, and she hadn't been able to fix it. Ray was a genius with boards, and had the most gorgeous hand painted designs. She slipped the wheels carefully into her bag and linked arms with him, letting him walk her to english. Luke watched the entire display from across the hall, his hand resting on the small box in his locker. It was stupid, just a little gift- but he thought she'd like it. It could wait, he decided, and he pushed his locker door shut a little too harshly, causing a loud clatter to echo through the hall. He swung his guitar case over his shoulder and headed for the music rooms, passing off on the AP english class he had with Becca. He couldn't watch her with that guy any longer.

The end of the day took it's time, but as soon as the bell went, Becca was out of her class and in her locker, desperate to get home. "Hey Mercer, you looked good last night." Becca looked up, surprised to find Will Thomas, star quarterback, smirking down at her. "Oh, hey Will. Thanks, I didn't know you were there?" He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. It was similar to the move Luke frequently pulled, but Becca didn't find the action as endearing when Will did it. "Uh, I should get going." She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist, holding her back. "I'm having a party this weekend. You should come." Becca looked at him in shock, her eyes wide, flicking down to the tight grip he held on her. "Oh, really? I'll see what I'm doing." He nodded at her, letting his eyes rake over her body unapologetically as she walked away, her right hand rubbing the wrist he'd held. Luke watched the interaction, once again from across the hall. Having lockers opposite each other wasn't the ideal situation he had originally imagined it to be. Slamming his locker door shut again, he followed her out the doors, face thunderous and hands thrust deep in his pockets. Becca was already at the car, complaining about something to Alex. "Why can't you just drop me off on the way home? I'll get food later." Alex rolled his eyes and gave her a push into the car, opening the trunk for Luke's guitar. "It's your birthday, mom and dad want to see you." Becca huffed and crossed her arms around her knees. She brightened slightly as Luke approached the car, but sank into her seat when she noticed his expression. Apparently everyone was having a bad day today. "What's up with your face?" Luke shrugged and leaned against the side of the car, avoiding having to sit next to Becca, instead waiting for Reggie to come out. "Teachers on my ass about work, that's all." Becca frowned; Luke never did work, and never cared when he was chased up for it. "What we doing this weekend? We don't have anything booked, do we?" Alex shook his head, dumping his jacket in the back and sighing as the californian sun once again defied all odds, and appeared just as they were hitting December. "Nothing booked, think we were just going to hang out at the studio." Luke nodded, risking a glance towards Becca, who appeared to be examining her ripped tights in great detail. Luke frowned as he noticed the large tear in the material- they'd been fine that morning. Reggie arrived at the car, grumbling about his government teacher, who'd told him he'd have to drop if he didn't buck up. "At least you actually go to class. Luke skipped english this morning." At the mention of his name, Luke's head snapped up, his eyes slightly brighter. She'd noticed his absence. "Where'd you go?" Luke shrugged and pushed the seat back as Reggie clambered in, dropping into the front seat. "Didn't feel like class." Becca rolled her eyes and leaned over Alex's seat, activating her most pleading puppy dog eyes, and resting her chin on his shoulder. "How come he gets to skip class? He's behind already, and I'm acing english." Alex chuckled and shoved her back into her seat. "Luke's older than you, and exactly. You're acing it because you go." Becca scowled and leaned on Reggie, reading the various scribbles running up his arms. Looked like he had a lot of homework. "How do you guys fancy a party this weekend? Heard Thomas is having one." Becca looked up as Luke began to speak, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Reggie frowned. "I thought you hated him? Said something about him being a-" Luke glared at Reggie in the mirror, sticking his lower lip out in such a childish way that Becca couldn't help her grin. "It's something to do. Bex got invited." Becca leaned over and punched him in the arm, scowling and glancing at Alex nervously. "Yeah as if she's going. You know what he's like." Becca groaned from the back seat and kicked Alex's chair, making him jump. "I can do what I want." All three of the boys laughed at the same time, and Alex started to drive off. Becca slumped in her seat and stared out the window. Sometimes having 3 older brothers wasn't ideal.

"Happy birthday darling!" Becca blinked in the sudden brightness as she walked into the kitchen, and found her mom standing beside the kitchen table, beside a birthday cake and a bunch of balloons. "Thanks mom." Julia smiled and pulled Becca into a hug, kissing her head and squeezing her tightly. "I have a shift later on tonight, but I thought we could have dinner together? And then Alex will take you over to Reggie's to study, but I want you to come home tonight, please." Becca nodded absentmindedly, sticking a finger into the icing on her cake. It was vanilla. "Is dad coming home?" Julia shook her head with a smile, and Becca noticed that her shoulders seemed more relaxed, and her hair hung around her face, a rare sight for the usually up tight Julia Mercer. "I got you something. It's on your bed." Becca grinned and hugged her mom one more time, before running out and up the stairs, nearly knocking Alex over in the process. "Woah, what's got you in such a rush?" Becca shrugged and kept running, barging through her door and squealing delightedly. Alex came racing in behind her, afraid that she'd gotten hurt. Becca was unwrapping a small parcel on her bed, not caring about the muddy soles of her converse. "No way." She held up a shoebox, laughing lightly to herself. "Vans? I'm trying to work out if this is some type of sick joke, or if she just asked around to see what kind of shoes skaters wear. Do you think this means she'll let me go?" Alex shrugged and smiled at the expression his little sister wore. She knew she'd have to wear them, so she wouldn't hurt their mom's feelings. But she also knew wearing them to the studio would mean getting ridiculed by Luke. "Fuck it. Are you eating with us?" Alex sighed and gave her a gentle smack round the back of the head, kneeling down to tie her laces. "Depends." Becca fell silent, and he felt her eyes on him. "He's not coming." Alex looked up and met her eyes, watching the grin slowly spread across her face. "Then of course I am. I'm not missing out on birthday cake." She cheered and jumped off the bed, waiting for him to stand up before throwing herself at his back and wrapping her legs around his waist. He hooked his arms through her knees and started to carry her down the stairs, stopping on the landing. "Not a word about last night. I want to speak to you about it in the car anyway, so keep your mouth zipped." Becca nodded and rested her chin on his shoulder. This was shaping up to be her favourite birthday yet. Cake, her mom, and her brother, with the promise of a trip to the skate park and a visit to the boys as well. Not to mention she got to wake up on top of Luke Patterson. Not that that's important or meant anything to her in the slightest, she reminded herself.

Skateboard in hand and new vans on, Becca headed out to Alex's car, happier than she'd felt in weeks. Even though he'd said no to the skatepark, Alex had said she could take her board and practice tricks in Reggie's backyard, as long as she was careful and didn't damage any plantpots. "So. About last night." Becca fidgeted in her seat, not sure where this was going. Was it about the performance? Or the drugs? Or Luke? It could be any number of things, none of them particularly high on her list of preffered car conversation topics. "When were you gonna tell me you could play like that?" Becca let out a sigh of relief. Definitely the least dangerous topic. "Uh, I didn't really know I could play like that myself, to be fair." Alex raised his eyebrows at her, and pulled out of the driveway. "I taught myself a little, and I spoke to some of the music teachers at school- they helped. But I dunno, I just really enjoyed it. Luke worked out I could play by himself, he found some stuff I'd written and forced me to tell him." Alex pursed his lips, and his eyes hardened. "Mmm. That's another thing. Luke." Becca groaned internally- she'd hoped to avoid this one. "What do you mean?" Alex shot her a look of pure disbelief, and she threw her head back against the seat. "Nothing, Alex. I promise. We came in late from the garden last night, and he was gonna sleep on the floor. I felt mean so told him to share the couch." Alex looked at her intently as they reached a red light, before shrugging and continuing the drive in silence. Becca watched out the window as the houses flew by, sighing wistfully as they passed the turnoff for the skatepark.

Luke watched as Reggie nearly fell over the railing in the loft for the fourth time, rolling his eyes and collapsing onto the couch. Alex had said they'd be there around 7, and had warned they better be ready or he'd be pissed. Luke jumped up as he heard a car pull into the driveway, sharing a look with Reggie, who was still sitting on the banister. The familiar roll of Becca's skateboard could be heard on the crazy paving , alongside the jingling of Alex's car keys, and then a scuffle and a screech, as Becca tripped. Eventually, the Mercer siblings appeared at the door, Becca's skateboard tucked under her arm, and Alex trying his hardest to suppress a grin. "Oh my god. Guys!" Becca's hands flew to her mouth as she took in the garage. The boys had spent the last few hours stringing fairy lights across the ceiling, and a painted banner hung across the rafters reading 'Happy Birthday Bex!' in Reggie's handwriting, thankfully. Reggie pulled her into a hug and ruffled her hair. "It's the least we could do." Alex pushed her into the studio, and towards the coffee table, where a messily iced cake sat, chocolate frosting layered thickly over the entire cake. Becca smiled to herself, a warm feeling spreading across her chest as it hit her that the boys remembered her favourite. "Did you make this?" She glanced at Luke suspiciously, who held his hands up and rolled his eyes at her. "Reggie's mom made it- but I iced it." She grinned and pulled him into a hug, letting her head rest on his chest as she breathed in his musky scent of cheap aftershave, and something distinctly boyish. "It's awesome. Thank you." Luke wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, resisting the urge to stroke her hair. They stayed like that for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, until a look from Alex caught Luke's attention, and he jumped away, clearing his throat. "Where's Bobby?" Reggie shrugged and flopped onto the couch, watching Luke with a slight grin. The dark haired guitarist was walking around the back of the studio, scuffing the toes of his vans against the floor, as he watched Becca out the corner of his eye. The tension between them could literally be cut with a knife, but they still chose to ignore it. Even Alex had commented on it before, much to his own disgust. The idea of his baby sister dating anybody genuinely terrified him- and he knew what a flirt Luke could be. But as the drummer and bassist of Sunset Curve watched the two from opposite corners of the room, the only thought going through their minds was 'how long now.' The pair had been dancing around each other for years now. Luke had even taken Becca to her freshman, and her sophomore homecoming, with it now being an ongoing joke between them. Becca couldn't dance in the slightest. In fact, at both dances, they'd had to take a break so that Luke could ice his foot. He'd asked her by coincidence in freshman year because she'd been crying in the hallway after school, after a group of sophomores had teased her for going alone. By sophomore year, him and Alex were good friends, and they decided to do it as a joke. Junior homecoming was coming up, and he wasn't sure whether to ask her or not. He wanted to, but now that they were both aware there was something more there... it might be weird. Not to mention Alex would insist on being there with them. "We're not exactly speaking to him right now." Becca nodded at Alex's words, and let a hand drift up to stroke the edge of the banner strung up in the rafters.

"I got you something." Becca looked up, pleasantly surprised to see Luke's eyes boring into her own, a hint of worry floating in them. She smiled at him and tilted her head to the side slightly, swaying from left to right gently. "You shouldn't have. Thank you, though." Luke nodded and reached into his jacket pocket, handing over a small box wrapped in brown paper. "Meant to say earlier, nice kicks." He bumped the the worn toe of his vans against the fresh white of hers, smiling as she took the box from him with a brief eye roll. Becca felt her cheeks warming up as she stroked her thumb over her name, scrawled on top of the package in barely legible handwriting. She met his eyes again, and after an encouraging nod from Luke, tore the paper, and opened the box. She stared at the gift in silence, silently grateful that he couldn't see her expression. A guitar string lay coiled inside, resting on tissue paper. It had been cut, just about the right size to fit around her wrist. There was a charm hanging off it, three silver icons that made Becca's breath catch in her throat. A minature electric guitar, a pair of drumsticks, and a bass guitar. Her boys. A slight cough from Luke made her glance up at him, to find his cheeks on fire, and his lip in between his teeth. "It's not much- I saw the charms and thought of you, and I restrung my six string last week so I thought it would be cool, I get it if you don't wanna wear it of course, it's stupid-" He was cut off by Becca's arms being thrown around his neck, catching her in surprise and holding her tightly, feeling a smile spread across his face. "I love it, Luke. Thank you." They stepped apart, and Becca handed him the bracelet, holding out her wrist. "Can you?" He nodded and fiddled with the clasp, clipping it around her wrist. It fit perfectly. He didn't let go of her wrist, his thumb stroking over her hand as he admired the bracelet. It was pretty neat, if he said so himself. Alex watched their interaction from his spot on the couch, groaning internally. He knew it would only be so long until the two of them got over themselves, and the thought terrified him. He didn't want Becca getting hurt, and he knew Luke had a bit of a reputation. It was clear they liked each other- to everyone apart from them, apparently. Luke's attempt to lie to him that morning had been quite pathetic, even for him.

Bobby showed up not long after Becca and Alex had arrived, but he avoided giving her a hug, after multiple glares from Luke, who hadn't left her side all evening. The boys were rather cold towards him- they weren't happy he'd bailed on them for the gig. "Did you get on alright without me though? It didn't make a huge difference to the set, did it?" None of the boys got the chance to answer- Becca snorted loudly, and clapped her hands. "Ha, no of course not. They had me instead." Bobby raised his eyebrows, and looked her up and down appreciatively. "Woah, so you play too? Nothing like a girl who's good with her hands." He winked at her, and she gagged, while Alex punched his arm, and Luke clenched his fists. "In your dreams, Robert." Reggie grinned at Becca and fist-bumped her, handing her another cup of juice. Luke sighed and settled back onto his couch, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head, telling him to floor Bobby. That wouldn't be the best way to end Becca's birthday. They sat there for a while longer, enjoying each other's company, until Alex looked at the clock and swore quietly. "It's getting late Bex, we should head soon." Becca glanced at the clock and frowned. It was only just after 8pm. She met Alex's eyes, but the slight frown on his face explained everything. "Right. Let's go."

#jatpsmut #jatpluke #jatpimagine #jatpcast #jatpimagines #julieandthephantomssmut #julieandthephantoms #julie and the himbos #julieandthephantomscast #luke patterson imagine #lukepattersonsmut #lukepatterson #luke patterson smut #luke patterson x reader #jatp

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iamdunn · 4 years ago

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Miraculous Flash Forward part 9: A New Dynamic

A Miraculous Fan-Fic

Written by

AJ Dunn

Adrien couldn’t wait to get back home and start making preparations. The trip to Paris hadn’t gone as badly as he was afraid it would. In fact, maybe he and Marinette could put their past behind them finally and start a life together. He had agreed to stay for the wedding since Marinette had gone through the trouble of making his Tux for him, and Nino wouldn’t have let him leave, he would have released Alya on him and that was frightening enough considering she had Trixx to back her up. Plus, Luka had Sass and he really didn’t need that kind of drama in his life. Honestly, he was happy he went. Even Nino saved a place for him after 5 years, in this case, the place of best man.

“I will.” She had said. The memory of her words played in his mind as they swayed around the dance floor. She had agreed to be his roommate in Shanghai. She swore she didn’t want him to leave her and that she truly did love him. Plus, losing her roommate meant she was looking for a new one. He was certain though that his studio condo wasn’t going to be sufficient for them. She would need her own room and considering how flustered he made her, he would need a private room so she didn’t lose herself whenever he walked around without a shirt on.

“Yeah, no more hanging out in the seating area in nothing but a towel,” Plagg said to him as they prepared to leave for the airport.

“Who knows, I might occasionally forget and well…”

“You’ll be quickly reminded when she walks through the walls to get away from you.” Plagg laughed. Adrien laughed too imagining her overdramatic reactions. Adrien’s phone rang.

“Are you sure about this Adrien?” Felix said. He had told his cousin he would need to upgrade his suite and asked for him to get him in touch with the management company.

“Absolutely,” Adrien smiled. “I wouldn’t want her getting a cheap apartment, that neighborhood is bad news, besides, she still doesn’t speak Mandarin and I can’t have her getting lost here again can I? OH, and I am going to tell her about us.” His words came out so quickly he hoped his cousin would agree and not snap at him.

“Do you trust her that much?” Felix sounded shocked. “Having her move in with you is one thing, but this affects us both.”

“Yes, I do. Besides, if this is going to work, her and I can’t have secrets between us.”

“It’s a shame she didn’t have a twin sister.” Felix scoffed.

“What?” Adrien teased.

“Nothing, never mind… shut up.” Felix snorted. “I’ll send them a message to call you.” He hung up.

The flight back was a sleepless one as Adrien reeled over the idea that Marinette was coming to live with him. This will change everything. He tried to sleep but, listening to music, even tried doing some reading. Sleep didn’t come until he was back home in his own bed. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when his phone rang.

“Mr. Graham De Vanily?” the voice came over. “Ah, Mr. Graham De Vanily called and said you wanted to renegotiate your lease.” Adrien refrained from laughing.

“Adrien please.” he laughed, “And my cousin, he’s just Felix.” It is still funny when people see them together, and they have the same last name, but then call each other cousins. A thing that had always been fun. “Yes, I want a larger unit.”

“I’m afraid the only unit we have available larger than the one you are in, is our 3 bedroom two bath unit at the opposite end of your floor.”

“That’s perfect.” He refrained from using his cattish terminology with such a business call. Although the excitement in him wanted to so badly.

“Fine, I shall send the paperwork over immediately, I assume you want to make the transition before the end of the month? As that is when your lease is due to renew.”

“Yes of course.”

“Please get the paperwork back to us promptly.” A ding came through his phone the second he hung up. It was an email from the property management containing the digital documents that he needed to Esign and return. He made haste to finish the paperwork before heading out to see Cheng Sifu and check on the temple. The sky was clear as Adrien made his way home from Cheng Sifu’s restaurant with a sack of leftovers and a few grocery items he had bought on the way. By grocery items that meant cheese for Plagg. While Camembert wasn’t available here, Manchego had become his replacement.

They leaped from rooftop to rooftop not worried about remaining unseen as he had before the reunion. It felt freeing to just be himself and not hide anymore. His students already called him Laoshi Mao, though they didn’t know why it wasn’t Laushi Adrien. Well, Mao sounded a lot better. He slipped through the balcony door and wondered what their new apartment would look like. He was sure all of the units on this floor had a balcony. His phone ran just as he entered the apartment and before he transformed. It was a video call.

“Hello M’Lady,” he answered in his most cattish tone. She giggled then began swatting away at some unseen thing, most likely the Kwami’s.

“They’re all excited to be moving and they have been trying to pack for me.” She giggled again.

“Well, I am Pawsitively feeling clawssome about it too, M'Lady.”

“You dork.” She laughed. “Detransform and feed Plagg.” She said playfully.

“As you wish.” he let his transformation go as Plagg darted into the bag and began tearing at the plastic wrapper. “Hold on, this guy… “ he set the phone down and tried to wrestle the package from the nearly rabid creature. “Hold on, let me open the package at least, you’re going to kill yourself.” Marinette laughed at the ordeal. It was certainly going to be interesting having so many Kwami’s around.

Adrien reached over, picking up the phone again as Plagg stole away the now open package. “You’d think I starve him.”

“So, how was your day?” she said in a melodic tune.

“It would have been better if you were already here.” He said holding up a clear plastic container containing remnants of the Crab stew which had become one of his favorite dishes. The container had Cheng’s restaurant label on it.

“Did you tell him?” Her face went into a look of concern.

“I’ll have you know I am a cat of my word,” he said nonchalantly.

“Adrien?”

“Of course not.” A look of relief as she wanted to surprise him. She even insisted that her mother and father keep their tongue too. Threatening not to write or call for a week if they did. They were so happy for her to be moving to Shanghai, not to mention in with Adrien. Their faces lit up as they began discussing nicknames for grandkids. Adrien found the whole conversation unnerving at first but when he saw the looks on their faces, the pure joy, he felt grateful they were such wonderful people.

He still hadn’t talked to Emelie despite her condition improving. Amalie maintained the radio silence as well after Felix had threatened to cut her out of his life completely if she didn’t give Adrien space. Though, Adrien hadn’t told Marinette about all of that mess yet. He was afraid it would scare her off and he wanted her to enjoy her time here before bombing her with it.

Weeks had gone by as Adrien packed up his studio and shuffled all of his stuff into the new apartment. The Apartment opened up into the foyers, with a partial wall separating it from the living room. The kitchen to the right just like his old apartment had a counter divider with two bar stools on the living room side. The marble decor was the same as his old unit, taking into mind the carpeting in the living room stopped before the bar stools. The coat closet next to the front door was slightly deeper like a mini walk-in. There was a small dining table situated by the windowed wall in the kitchen. It was twice the size of his last kitchen.

He found the stairs to the loft in the same place however instead of an open bedroom area there were four doors. One was a bathroom and the other three bedrooms. The master bedroom, being nearly the size of his last unit, had its own bathroom with a walk-in shower and jet stream tub. The second and third bathrooms were on either side of the bathroom. Adrien decided to move his stuff into the smaller of the two rooms closest to the stairs so that Marinette could have the main room with her own bathroom.

It only took him a week to clean out the old unit and clean it even though professional cleaners would be in to clean it properly. The unit was unfurnished but the furniture from the old unit was bought by Amelie so he had a few bell boys help him move it into the new unit. He had only to buy a bed for Marinette before she got there. He had Sabine pick out some furniture online and he ordered it.

The two weeks flew by faster as he spent more time at the temple tutoring the youth. As well as his daily chores there.

A video call with Marinette came in very early in the morning, though it wasn’t that early where she was at. She had just arrived at the airport with her parents who were seeing her off. Her bags were checked and she was standing in front of the windows overlooking the runway.

“I can’t wait to see you, Princess.” He said enthusiastically as he lay in his bed. He tried to not let her see he was in bed or that he didn’t have a shirt on, she’d be a mess and end up missing her flight.

“Did I wake you?” She looked guilty

“I wouldn’t have missed this call for anything Princess, you better get on that plane you let me down now.” he winked at her.

“Don’t worry, that was her boarding call. We are putting her on the plane right now,” Tom said. Adrien chuckled as they hung up the phone.

“I’m just surprised you love birds are going to be in separate rooms.” Plagg teased. “How long is that going to last?”

“Hey, you have your own room now, what are you harassing me for?” Adrien teased him.

“Actually that is going to be Marinette’s sewing room, right?” Plagg had a point.

“I mean, when she gets here, you can start staying in the miracle box with the others.”

“Too cramped. I need to stretch my legs and be free.” Plagg folded his arms behind his head as he hovered over the bed. Adrien copied him as he lay in his bed. His phone ran again, this time it was Felix.

“I’ll be coming to Shanghai today, I am at the airport now.” He sounded rushed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Adrien asked. It meant he would be on the same plane with Marinette. His stomach balled up.

“A last minute showing of some new designs and they can’t seem to be able to agree on one.” Felix said something to the boarding clerk. “I need you to attend with me.”

“I have classes, I can’t cancel them, plus I am now tutoring some of my students.” Adrien complained. It made things worse that he wouldn’t be able to spend time with Marinette.

“I’m sure we can arrange the viewing for after your classes or before. What time is your fist class and last class….” He paused. “You know what, we can discuss that when I get there.” his voice had changed from rushed to pleasant and happy. Damn, did he see Marinette, is he sitting with her? Adrien’s anxiety tightened on his chest as he laid back against his pillow.

After a long and nerve wracking day, Adrien stood at the airport waiting for both his cousin and his...friend? He hadn’t bothered to change his clothes after he finished at the temple, so he was still dressed in his yi-fu. He decided to wait near the baggage claim so he could help grab her luggage. Felix would likely have one bag and it was probably a carry on. Adrien saw her bags first and grabbed up. She had a lot as he had expected, they were pink with darker pink polka dots, no surprise there. As he finished loading them on a luggage cart he heard Felix’s voice.

“Are you serious Marinette, that would be great.” Felix sounded excited, a tone he didn’t use very often. Adrien could feel the heat in his face as he tried to compose himself before turning around to greet them.

“Adrien.” Marinette exclaimed as he turned around to catch her as she leaped into his arms. He spun her around holding her tightly and making a big show of it. “Look who found me on the plane, he wants me to come with you two to the fashion showing this afternoon.” Adrien feigned a smile. While Marinette was the fashion expert between the three of them, he wasn’t sure if his cousin’s intentions were pure, or if he was competition.

“So, I hope you got that sare bedroom made up for me…” Felix leaned in to whisper. “Brother.” Adrien’s face burned even more now, said spare bedroom was right next to her room and well, was empty.

“Sure, if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Adrien laughed as they loaded up in the car. Felix pulled out his phone and made a call.

“I need a spare bed set up in the Graham De Vanily room, you’ll know which room.” Adrien was amazed at how resourceful his cousin was. This is why he is the primary controlling party for the company. The ride back to the apartment in the Taxi was cramped with Marinette wedged between Adrien and Felix. Adrien, being clearly larger than his twin, though not too much. Marinette let out a loud yawn so Adrien threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her head into his chest casting a possessive glance to Felix, who simply smirked back to him.

The Bus boys carried her bags to the suite.

“I don’t know about you two, but I am famished.’ Felix said, “Shall we step out for dinner?”

“That sounds great, we should go to Thousand Delights?” Adrien smiled at her excitement.

“Are you okay to go, Marinette,” Adrien asked “You were nearly falling asleep in the plane, you might need a nap.”

“Nonsense. She’s fine.” Felix swooped a hand over her shoulder and led her back to the curb. “Shall I call a driver to come get us, less cramped than a taxi.” Competition is then. Adrien scowled.

“If my accommodations aren’t sufficient for you, COUSIN,” Adrien slid his arm around her waist tugging her to his side and out of Felix’s hands. “You are welcome to make your own. Felix’s smile was one of mischief as he let his arm fall from her shoulders. Her face froze in a ‘what just happened’ expression. A few minutes later a mini black limo arrived and the driver moved quickly to open the door.

“Lady’s first.” Felix insisted then slid in after her. Adrien ran to the other side to let himself in next to her. Once again, Marinette was trapped between the two, though Adrien focuses on the fact, she would be staying with him when Felix returned to Paris.

“Where’s your ring?” Adrien finally asked, having noticed his hand free of it when his arm was around Marinette.

“I uh, Amalie,” he choked. “They want yours as well to get them refinished or something.” Adrien slipped the ring off his finger and handed it to Felix.

“I don’t know what Amalie and Emelie want with them, but they have no meaning to me.” Adrien turned to the window.

“Ooookay.” Marinette’s voice broke through the awkwardness. “Amalie? Emelie? Not mother?”

“It’s a long story.” Felix said, patting her knee.

“Well, tell me tonight, when we get back?” Marinette’s voice was so sweet. Adrien was glad didn’t didn’t stumble over her words like she did when they were younger, now he could have a real conversation with her and actually know the true intentions of her words.

“We will have plenty of time to talk about that Marinette,’ Adrien smiled at her as he put his arm around her shoulders again, “But let’s just have some fun first,” He kissed her forehead, casting a glance to Felix. The thought of telling her made his stomach clench and he could tell it was difficult for Felix too. Not exactly something that comes up in casual conversation.

Cheng Sifu was excited to see him, but his confusion over the “Cousin” kept him constantly glancing back and forth between them. Felix and Adrien smiled at him, then they both laughed.

“Cheng Sifu, we get that all of the time, our mothers are identical twins as well.” Adrien didn’t mean to add that, but it was too late.

“What he means is, we share the Graham De Vanily twin genes.” Felix to the rescue, casting a scowl at Adrien. “Which means.” smiling at Marinette, “When we have children, our wives will bear us twins.” Adrien caught the wink in his eye.

“Well, I don’t think we need to worry about you having any children any time soon Felix,” Adrien leaned back in his seat as his empty bowl sat in front of him. He wrapped an arm around Marinette, “You have to have a girlfriend first.” He gave Marinette a gentle squeeze and a smile.

“Oh.” Felix said, putting his napkin down on the table. “And you do? I thought she was just a friend?”

“Yeah, she is.” Adrien smiled at her. “A girlfriend.” He placed a quick kiss on her startled lips. Making a show of it before Felix could question if he even had a chance. Adrien knew Marinette had loved him since day one, even though she only knew the facade his father created, but he loved her for her.

“I see.” Felix’s tone seemed to have a playful melody to it. “I’m happy to hear that.” Cheng Sifu began to play his happiest of songs on his accordion.

“I always knew the two of you would be together someday.” A joyful tear fell down his cheek.

#miraculous fandom #miraculous chat noir #ladynoir #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #marichat #miraculous world #felix graham de vanily #Adrien Graham De Vanily #miraculous fanfic

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 5 years ago

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Cold and empty (Part 1/2)

Warning: Angst, a lot of Angst, blood, being shot, chance of a character dying,sadness (but do not fret there’s fluff to follow int he next part) Wordcount: ~2,5k Summary: In a matter of months your life was completely turned around and damned, but you managed to hide it from your pack, scared of the consequences of someone finding out, but when someone waits for you in your own house, more than you’re secrets threaten to spill...

Saturday nights were Pack nights. That was an established fact for everyone who considered Scott McCall their Alpha and/or friend. And so, like every other Friday, you sat on the couch of Derek's loft and shovelled popcorn into your mouth as you watched Stiles and Isaac fight over which movie they should watch next, not minding the fact that it was almost midnight already and Derek looked like he was only seconds away of throwing you out. "Guys, I have a Geography test next Monday and I'd like to learn for it tomorrow so can we call it quits?" asked Lydia, rolling her eyes at the pestering that was going on. "Since when do you need to learn for anything?" you asked giggling and looked at her with a questioning look in your eyes. "Perfection doesn't come from nothing honey," she remarked and brushed her hair behind her shoulder. You just kept on giggling. You didn't mind staying there. You wouldn't mind not leaving the loft again ever. Other than the rest of the pack, Derek liked you and showed it. No one could explain why or how, but somehow he smiled when talking to you and even occasionally gave you a small hug. On more than one occurrence, some people mistook you for his sister or daughter when the two of you were out in public for something pack-related. You didn't mind that, you'd lie if you said that Derek wasn't some kind of father figure for you, but you always tried to avoid these situations, afraid that he would get sick of it or be embarrassed and stop the way he acted around you. But no matter how much you enjoyed Derek's presence or staying in his loft, all good things had to end, and so not long after Lydia's remark you said goodbye to everyone and made your way home. Even though you'd like to stay longer or at least as long as the others, you had a very good reason for always leaving first...

You opened the front door of your house with a deep sigh. What expected you, was the dark, empty hallway that leads to the dark, empty rooms. The house was, quite honestly, in shitty condition, but it was all you could afford besides school and all the necessities you needed. That was the harsh reality of your life. Your parent's had died when you were young and you'd been shipped over to your elderly aunt for her to take care of you. That was how you first got to beacon hills. But not even months after you got there, she disappeared. Completely. Not leaving any traces. Later on, you figured that she had somehow fallen victim to all the supernatural in the city. But your aunt had been a very, very reserved person, never really leaving her house anyways. It was a more-or-less lucky coincidence that she had made you take care of the bills and buying groceries and hygiene articles for the months when she was there. She made sure you knew how to use all her accounts and fake the way she spoke and her signature. It was almost like she knew that you'd be on your own sooner or later. And now you were. You had calculated that you'd have about a year and a half until you'd run out of money, so you planned on keeping everything the way it was for three quarters of a year and then search some sort of undeclared work- since you weren't 18 now, nor you'd be when that time would come- to keep on living. You had long given up the hope of going to college or university. You were happy if you even made it to thirty at that point in your life. Your pack didn't know about any of it and you were more than happy for it to stay that way. The fact that you're aunt had been so reserved when she was still alive made it easy for you to explain them not being able to visit you and that you couldn't join some of there activities because of your money situation (even though the often paid for you, against your will). You tried to keep them away from your house as far as possible. That's why you always left first (with the excuse of your aunt not wanting you to stay out too long) so that they wouldn't offer to drive you over and either see that the house was completely unlit or (in the wolve's cases) smell/hear that no-one was there. To avoid them climbing through your window at night (a habit you knew they had) you had reinforced all locks and windows and assured them you'd be fine. It had worked so far but had cost you half a year of the time left back then. By now, you just wanted to enjoy the time you had with the people you loved. So, like you did almost every day, you strutted over into your room, threw your things into a corner and changed into your PJ's before going to the kitchen to get a glass of tab-water for the night. When the glass was filled you turned around, ready to fall into bed and escape into the dream realm. The glass slipped from your grasp and shattered over the floor when your eyes landed on a dark figure standing in the doorway of the room. With wide eyes, you grabbed for a knife out of the knife stand on the counter. "Who are you?" you asked with a shaky voice, being aware of the seriousness of the situation in a town like beacon hills. The figure took a step forward, stepping into the dim street lamp light that came through the window. It was a middle-aged man with dark hair and a pair of dark sunglasses on his face, he wore dark clothes and held a gun in his hand, aiming at you. He didn't seem supernatural, but you could never be too sure. "Bring me to your safe," he said, his voice threatening low, sending shivers down your spine. "Excuse me?" you asked slightly confused by the whole situation, but raising the knife just a bit. What the hell was going on? When his eyes caught the movement of the knife he unlocked the gun and was ready to shoot at any wrong movement. "You better put the knife down little girl, wouldn't want to hurt a little thing like you, would I now?" You frowned but knew better than to disobey. You put the knife back but kept your gaze on the man. "How did you get in here?" you asked, still highly confused by the situation and not yet very aware of the danger that could enroll soon. "You can have the best locks in the world, but their not gonna do anything against a shattered window," he said as If it explained everything and shrugged a bit, "but anyways... Your safe if you'd be so kind." He waved the gun to the side as if to motioning you to move. You stepped forward a bit, careful not to step into the shards of the broken glass with your bare feet. When you stood in the door, feeling the presence of the still unlocked and loaded gun in the small of your back, you stopped for a moment and looked at the man behind you. "Wait a minute...are you robbing me?" "Are you just realizing that now?" he asked, almost amused by the situation. "Well yes, why would anyone ever want to rob me? I don't have money or anything." "You don't, but I know that your aunt has. A private elder woman that is rarely seen in public: a victim that's almost to perfect to be true," he nudged you with the gun, getting you to slowly walk towards your aunt's old office, which you hadn't entered in months, in which you knew the safe was. You also knew that it was empty of anything worthy... "That I found you and not her just makes it easier." "Uhm...sure, if you say so," you mumbled, not wanting him to notice how nervous you are, even though it would have been perfectly fine to be nervous while having a gun rammed into your back. "How do you know that my aunt has a safe?" you asked, trying to divert his attention enough to find a way to get help or something to defend you. "I installed it a few years back and now I want what's in it," he simply stated as if it was obvious. You swallowed, a lump in your throat getting bigger because you comprehended that there was nothing there for him to get and, even worse, you saw his face. He didn't plan on you getting out of that alive. Shit. Quicker than you wanted you stood in the office in front of the safe hidden behind a fake back wall of a small closet behind her desk. While you had entered you had caught sight of the old-style dial phone on your aunt's desk that you didn't remember ever disconnecting. That could be your change, but you had to play your cards right. With careful movements, you entered the combination to unlock the safe and waited for the 'thud' of air that would come out as soon as it was ready to open. As soon as it's inside was exposed, you stepped back and made space for the robber to look through it. you hoped he would take some time to look through the different documents and boxes full of sentimental stuff that your aunt has wanted to keep over her years. As silent as possible, you stepped behind, even more, stopping in front of the desk. For a second you considered just running away, but the man had made sure to close the door so that he would have enough time to shoot you when you'd try to escape. Carefully, you dialled Parrish, who's number the pack has forced you to memorize it in case they weren't there and you needed help. You had considered calling Scoot, Stiles or Derek, but you didn't want them to risk getting exposed while saving you, you wouldn't want to be the one at blame for that. You didn't hear if he picked up or said anything, instead, you laid the telephone handset onto the desk beside it's stand in hope that it wasn't too obvious. Before you could do anything else, the man's voice disrupted your thoughts: "THERE'S NOTHING IN HERE!" He screamed and turned around, anger visible on his face. "It's not my fault you decided to rob me," you said, louder than necessary with the goal of Perrish hearing and understanding the situation. Instead of answering, he stormed at you and raised his hands, the gun in his clutches.

Parrish had been sitting at his desk, typing away on the computer when his phone started to ring. He was doing a late shift, finishing up on some reports, so he didn't mind a little distraction. he didn't recognize the number, but the area code was from beacon hills so he guessed it was someone on a landline. He picked up. "Hello, Deputy Jordan Parrish here." No answer. He frowned and looked at his screen to make sure that he had actually answered. His thumb was already on its way to hang up when something loud was heard. He immediately raised it to his ear again. "Hello?" he asked again, but instead of an answer, he heard a voice that sounded eerily like yours. "It's not my fault you decided to rob me." He immediately stood up from his chair and waved over to the sheriff alarmed. Then there was a loud bang echoing through the speaker and Jordan immediately ran through the station, leaving a confused Sheriff at his desk. He jumped into his car and speeded into the direction of your house, while- even though it was dangerous- calling the sheriff and explaining the situation and asking him to send back-up. He knew that he'd most likely also call Stiles, so the pack would know in a while anyway.

Jordan pulled up at your house, almost surprised that the wolves hadn't gotten there before him, and immediately ran to the entrance, gun in hand. The door stood wide opened and a part of him hoped that you had managed to escape and not the alternative of whoever was with you having run away. "Y/N?" he shouted while entering, looking around. He had almost overheard the gargled caught that sneaked through the halls in response. Following the sound, he entered a room that looked like an office, even though the shelves and furniture looked dusty, like to haven't been cleaned in months. On the back of the room was a safe which was opened and devastated and on the desk in front of it laid a dial phone that had been smashed into pieces. You were nowhere to be seen. Jordan was almost ready to leave the room and search for you elsewhere again when he heard another small cough from behind the desk. He surrounded it and immediately saw you. You sat, or rather laid, on the floor, leaning against the cabinet that was included in the desk with your bloody hands clutched over your stomach. You were incredibly pale and there was blood running from your mouth. Jordan quickly realized the situation. You had been shot. You were dying. "Y/N! Shit, okay, we're gonna fix this okay. We're gonna fix you. Everything will be okay," he rambled, trying to keep himself calm why he sat down beside you and helped to stop the bleeding as best as he could with his hands. "Y/N?" he heard Derek's voice echoing through the house and immediately called out to him. When Derek saw you laying there, looking like your life was about to leave you any moment now he stopped. His world froze around him. Even though it most likely has only been seconds, it felt like hours had passed before he snapped out of it when the rest of the pack also entered. Later on, he'd wonder how the non-wolve members had managed to get there so quickly, but at that moment he couldn't care less. "What is going on?" asked Scott who only had the info that you were in danger. He saw the way Derek was staring at Jordan who sat behind a desk and stepped beside him and his breath got caught in his throat. Finally freed off being frozen by the situation Derek snapped into action. "We have to get Y/N to the hospital!" "We can take my car," Jordan offered, his hands still clutching onto the wound, even though he didn't feel like it did anything since blood kept seeping out. Derek nodded and walked over to pick you up so that Jordan could keep his hands on the injury. "Stiles, you wait for your father to come and explain the situation. Scott-" "I'm on it," Scott interrupted him nodded for Malia, Isaac, Liam, the twins and Theo to follow him. They had to find whoever did that.

Part 2

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accioharry · 5 years ago

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unsaid emily: rewritten (ch.1) | read on ao3

Her mom made the photo album, documenting Luke’s life until his death the first week after he died before she changed her mind and threw it in the attic with everything else. Knowing the recent pictures would be at the back, she flipped to the end, and her breath hitched in her throat.

On the page was a taped in picture of Emmi on her fourth birthday, sitting on the shoulders of her long-dead brother, Luke Patterson.

The same boy currently standing in Julie’s studio.

What if Unsaid Emily wasn't about Luke's mom, but his little sister he left behind when he ran away from home? Twelve years after his death, Luke comes face to face with his younger sister, Emmi, who isn't ready to forgive her older brother for abandoning her. JATP AU// boys died in 2008, not 1995.

Emmi was exhausted.

Her alarm didn’t go off, making her almost late for school. She was lucky that Julie always walked to school with her, if it wasn’t for her best friend hitting her with a pillow, she’d sleep until noon.

She stood at her locker, fumbling with the lock that never seemed to open when she felt her two best friends appear on either side of her. “

Hey, underachiever!” Flynn nudged her, while Julie echoed with “Hey disappointment!” on her other side.

If a teacher heard them, they’d get a lecture about respecting other students, but are you really best friends if you don’t greet each other with an insult?

Emmi laughed, finally yanking her locker open. “Are we ready for class?” She looked between the two girls before she and Flynn looked over at Julie.

Music used to be the three girls’ favorite class, but after Julie lost her mom a little over a year ago, things had changed. Gone was their usual singing to and from school and jamming in Rose Molina’s studio, but instead, Emmi longing to go back into the room she nearly called home for the entirety of her friendship with Julie.

She never could explain her attachment to the studio in the back of the Molina garage. A lot of things in there were old, stuffed in boxes and bags in the loft that was there when the family moved in before Julie was even born. Rose caught Emmi looking through the loft when she was ten, and even though Emmi was terrified her best friend’s mom would be upset, she wasn’t. She never told her where the things came from, but never questioned it when Emmi would find an old drumstick to twirl or a worn-out band t-shirt to wear when she would get her own clothes dirty after playing outside with Julie. She loved that studio so much, and when Julie told her they couldn’t go in there after Rose had died, Emmi felt as though a part of her was missing, but she could never explain it.

“Do you know what you’re going to sing?” Flynn asked Julie, but Julie shook her head. The girls hated that the school had given her an ultimatum, to sing again or be thrown out of the program. They were pushing Julie when she wasn’t even close to being ready, and it made Emmi angry every time she thought about it. Her hand twirled the guitar pick that hung around her neck, if she was old enough to remember when her brother died, she might have felt the same way about music.

“I’ll know in the moment,” Julie shrugged, eyes flickering to Emmi’s hand on the guitar pick. “His birthday is soon, isn’t it?”

“Yup, Mom is making the cake like she does every year,” Emmi tucked the pick under her shirt. “She doesn’t talk about him, just puts the cake in front of me to blow out the candles, puts his stocking up for Christmas, and that’s it.”

“I’m sorry,” Flynn muttered. “I know this time of year is hard to be at home,” she smiled at Emmi reassuringly.

“I mean it when I say I’m fine, I was a kid when he died. I don’t remember him, I barely got to look at his pictures before Mom stuffed them in the attic with the rest of his stuff.” She shook her head, turning her attention back to Julie. “Enough about me, it’s not important.”

Before she could get another word out, the sound of heels hitting the tile floor made her groan internally, rolling her eyes. The three of them turned to see Carrie Wilson, their school’s queen bee, strutting to them, her boyfriend (and Julie’s long term crush) trailing behind her.

“Girls!” She squealed, a fake smile etched onto her face.

“Carrie,” Emmi jokingly twirled a piece of her brown hair around her fingers. “What can we do for you on this beautiful day?” She could hear Flynn and Julie snickering behind her.

“Always such a sweetheart, Emmi!” Carrie grinned, but Emmi saw right through it. “My group is performing at the spirit rally tomorrow!” She handed Emmi a flyer, the words “DIRTY CANDY” written in big letters across the top. “I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” she smiled at Flynn.

“Oh my gosh, Carrie thanks!” Flynn put on her sweetest, most annoying voice. “It’s not like it’s a required part of our school day and any of us have a choice!”

“Oh my gosh Flynn,” Carrie mocked back, “don’t bother coming!”

“Did she miss the part where you said it was a required school event? Emmi leaned over and whispered in Flynn’s ear, but Julie elbowed her in the side. “Ow!”

The three of them waited until Carrie had focused her attention on another student before they turned to each other.

“Please tell me we’re over Nick,” Emmi groaned. “All he does is follow Carrie like a lost puppy!”

“A cute lost puppy,” Julie sighed dreamily but snapped out of it when the bell rang. “Okay, guess it’s time for class.”

“You got this Jules,” Emmi smiled, “I know you do!”

-----

Emmi’s worst fear came true: Julie didn’t sing.

She and Flynn had followed their friend out of class, finding her crying on the stairwell. Anything and everything that had to do with music made Julie upset, and Emmi could only sympathize, watching her parents go through the same thing when her brother died twelve years prior when Emmi was only four. She couldn’t remember what he looked like, but she remembered not understanding what happened. One second he was hugging her, telling her he needed to go on his own but would always come home, and then a police officer was holding her mom as she sobbed, three weeks later. Christmas was never the same after that, none of it was.

Her parents had packed up his room and taken down all of his pictures within the first month, and it was only when Emmi was six her Dad took her up to the attic without her Mom knowing, to show her some things that used to belong to her brother. That’s where she found the guitar pick her father put on a necklace for her, and she’s never taken it off since. Her mom obviously knew about it, but she never said anything. It was an unspoken thing, the only token Emmi got to have of the brother she couldn't remember.

Flynn had a student council meeting after school, so Emmi walked home with Julie. Her parents worked late, so she often ate dinner with Julie and her family, which she loved. Even though Julie’s loss was still an open wound, she thought her family handled it ten times better than her parents did. Her brother was a forbidden topic at home, but at Julie’s house, her mom was everywhere, just as she should be.

She was sitting at the table working on a pre-calculus problem when Ray, Julie’s dad, came into the room.

“Ah, two of my favorite girls!” He smiled. “Flynn at student council?”

Julie nodded, her Dad pulling up a chair to sit next to them at the table.

“What’s up?” Julie asked, a nervous tone in her voice. Emmi bit her lip, she knew Julie was terrified of her Dad finding out she was kicked out of the music program, and frankly she hoped the ground would swallow her before she had to witness that conversation.

“Well, I got some news today,” he started, and Emmi really wished the ground would take her at any moment. Julie stiffened.

“From my realtor friend,” he continued, and both girls sighed with relief. If Ray noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“He said if we’re serious about selling the house, then we need to take pictures for when we list it on the market.”

Julie nodded in understanding, and Emmi squirmed in her seat. Julie wanted to move away, and no one, not even Emmi and Flynn, could talk her out of it. The way Ray and Carlos would willingly move their entire life to help Julie heal made Emmi once again jealous, her parents doing nothing but closing the door to her brother’s empty room before it became Emmi’s playroom a couple of years later.

“But,” Ray continued, “I was thinking you could tackle Mom’s studio?”

Emmi looked at her best friend, Julie’s eyes already filling with tears. “It’s okay if you’re not ready,” he placed a comforting hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Carlos and I, we wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Julie shrugged. Her eyes met Emmi’s, who cleared her throat.

“I’ll help,” she offered, and Ray smiled at the two of them.

“Great! Now I’m already late for Carlos’s game, where are my keys?” He stood up to look.

“Under the mail,” Julie and Emmi said at the same time, before Ray laughed, taking his keys and heading out the door.

“Jules,” Emmi muttered, not wanting to hurt her friend. “Are you sure?”

“I mean we’re moving, right? Got to face it sometime,” Julie shrugged, but Emmi knew that was the end of the conversation.

----

Walking to the studio felt like a movie, Emmi thought. It was dark by the time Julie had the courage to walk down the steps that were all too familiar, but like Emmi promised, she wouldn’t do it alone.

“I’m right here,” she told Julie. “Anytime you want to leave, we leave.”

“Okay,” Julie sniffled, and with one hand held tightly by Emmi’s, she pushed the doors to the studio open. She let go of Emmi to walk over to turn on the lights, and Emmi gasped as she saw the familiar fairy lights turn on around her, dropping her backpack on the ground. Julie walked around slowly, her hand running over the familiar grand piano that was covered by a white sheet, before she yanked it off, coughing with the dust.

Emmi found the ladder to the loft, smiling when she heard the familiar creak of the steps underneath her feet as she climbed. The drumsticks were right where she left them the last time she was here, and she didn’t hesitate to grab them. She never played drums or any instrument for that matter, but she always had fun twirling them around in her hands. Her feet dangled off the side as she rummaged through one of the dark bags left up here, but nothing stood out to her.

“Em! I found something,” Julie called, and Emmi rushed down the ladder and over to her best friend. “I didn’t know Mom had this CD?”

Emmi took it from Julie, flipping it over to look at the tracklist. “Sunset Curve?” She muttered to herself. “Why…why does that sound familiar?”

“It doesn’t sound familiar to me,” Julie shrugged. “Should we play it while we look around?” Emmi nodded, putting the CD in the player before pressing play. A guitar riff filled the room, and Emmi found herself captivated by it, almost as if she knew it.

She definitely knew that riff, but she couldn’t figure out where she heard it from. “Jules, I know this song—” she started to say over the music, but a loud screeching noise, almost as though someone was yelling, filled the room, forcing the girls to cover their ears.

Emmi blinked, and all of a sudden three teenage boys had appeared out of nowhere, falling onto the floor, groaning as they hit the ground. The music stopped in the background.

The girls stood frozen, watching the boys stand up, shaking the dust off their clothes.

“Woah,” the boy in the middle said, “how did we get back here?”

Emmi screamed.

#mine #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson fic #luke patterson #julie molina #jatp #reggie peters #alex mercer #julie and the phantoms fic #netflix fic #jatp au

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septiembrre · 5 years ago

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Rio Headcanons

Tagged by the wonderful @foxmagpie

What are your headcanons about Rio’s family? Siblings? Parents? Lifestyle growing up?

I really love the idea of Rio having been raised by a supportive, healthy, loving, beautiful nuclear family. I personally have imagined him with siblings -- sisters! Cousins! I think his respect for women and their power has to come from somewhere and it’s probably a matriarch. He has a strong handle on parenting and I think he must be modeling his own caregivers...

But, @foxmagpie pointed out the black & white vintage photos in his closet... Obviously, I had seen them but I just understood them to be like my family’s own old photographs. I had thought -- they’re just his ancestors, probably his grandparents or bisabuelos. But, then I realized there’s no sign of sisters, any siblings or of his parents in his apartment. The Good Girls set design team loves a ridiculously terrible photo prop (hello old Dean/Beth family photos) and you know they would have been down to make the same thing for Rio... but alas. All we have are those photos of Rio + Marcus, an ambiguous baby picture and the black & white photo and it’s probably intentional.

I come from a small, atypical Mexican-American family structure myself, but I feel for him. I always headcanoned that he had a dad who had died when he was a kid or a teenager and that maybe his mom was still around and involved in his & Marcus’ life. But, quizas no?

I’m curious about how much Beth knows now about Rio’s family structure from Rhea. She knows Rhea’s a single mom, and her co-parent was out of the picture for a spell. But, I think Rhea would have also mentioned involvement or support from Marcus’s other set of abuelos/her former in-laws?

So... who were Rio’s caregivers? His grandparents? No sisters??? We should all collectively DM Manny and ask him to share his own Rio backstory headcanons. Haha, watch -- the show is totally going to ret-con this in Season 4.

It’s interesting overall how the writer’s deploy family world-building for the characters. Dean’s mom is the only one on-screen -- and Dean’s parents overall have gotten more build out than any other family history combined (wild!). I know that’s influenced by them casting Jessica Walter who is phenom, but expanding out the family histories is such a rich area for the show creators to play in if they choose to go there. All of our main protagonists have deceased parents. I think it’s been a choice on the show to play into a lack of safety net and support for the women. For better or for worse, Beth, Ruby & Annie are at a point where they are it for their children.

That being said -- I would love to meet Stan’s parents! And I would love to get information about Rio’s coming-into-crime especially as a parallel to Beth’s experience. It’s the parallel we would all want and the parallel we deserve. (Dear show, Stop with the Boland family parallels, PLEASE! If I have to hear about Dean’s scummy dad one more time--).

But, yes, I’m very invested in Beth & Annie’s, Ruby’s, Stan’s, and, of course, Rio’s families and hope we get to see more characterization unfold over the next seasons.

What are your headcanons for Rio and Rhea’s relationship? How do you think they met, at what point did Rhea learn about his work, was Rio in love with her, etc.?

I’m so curious about what attracts Rio to people/his love interests. It’s becoming clear what attracts him to Beth... But, I wonder about has attracted him to others.

While Beth & Rhea are both moms (haha, and beautiful, and well-endowed with the boobs), that’s in the present time on the show -- Rio was attracted to Rhea before she was a mom. I wonder what he looks for? What did he see in Dylan?

Hmmm.

What are your headcanons about Rio’s and Mick’s relationship? Did they meet through crime? Are they lifelong friends?

I want them to be childhood friends!!!! I want that so badddddd!!!

Oh, god, can you imagine a flashback to them young in crime?! Like late teens or early 20s? Ha, as a parallel to the Beth + Ruby scene/origin story? I would die. DIE.

Do you think Rio’s been arrested before Beth got him arrested in 1.10? When, and what for?

Ha, I don’t think he’s been arrested for anything significant. He’s plenty sanctimonious about keeping his name out of everything.

If Rio weren’t a crime boss, what jobs do you think he’d be good at? Why?

I mean he’s probably great a math, phenom at managing a huge team/multiple business ventures, and super charismatic. What couldn’t he do?

I think he was probably pushed to crime because of lack of opportunity for MOC and the need for money. This does make me think he came up poor. But, I think he stayed in crime because he’s so good at it, and likes the flexibility, the creativity, the $$$, and the power.

I think he could go legit and still be pulling in decent buck with all of his business fronts but he doesn’t choose to.

What are Rio’s hobbies outside of work and Marcus? What do you think he’d get up to on a day with absolutely no responsibilities?

He’s obviously an art heaux. The real question is WHAT’S HIS MEDIUM???? If he actually produces art like the abstract stuff up in his house, I would scream. I can see him being into photography when the mood strikes him and he has time. #hipster

I like the idea of Rio taking cooking classes in some sort of exclusive, foodie way (1:1 with a chef, or a compa who is a fly line cook).

We know he plays tennis and I also imagine he boxes and works out at the type of high-end gym I could only dream of. It probably never smells of sweat, and all the machines are top-end, brand new. I mentioned in a post a while ago that I wasn’t sure if I wanted Rio to be my boyfriend, my bff, or to adopt me -- and I stand by it.

Who do you think Dylan is to Rio (a friend, an associate, someone he was dating?) and why?

I do lean towards friend/associate/some one he’s fucked. Rio was very handsy with Dylan’s person. Obviously, in real life Manny & Adelfa are married, and I think they were leaning heavily on that intimacy in the scene.

But Rio also didn’t kiss Dylan? Which leads me back to -- damn, Rio. You were fronting so hard. Like... that was high-school-level showmanship.

What do you think Rio’s goals for the future are?

I think he wants to be his own boss, I think he likes being at the top of the food chain, and I think he wants to stay in crime because he still sees opportunities.

I’m so curious as to what his $$$ bench marks are?

Beth’s are current financial security and probably college for all of her little ones. So what it for Rio?

- College for Marcus?

- Inheritance for Marcus?

- Inheritance for all of his (nonexistent) family?

It has to be more than that. He’s already hit these benchmarks based off of the status symbols in the show (the G-Wagon, the quality of furniture in his loft, Rhea’s offer of maybe like a $5-10k check to Beth. Beth’s not family!).

What do you think Rio is bad at (cooking, dancing, singing, etc.)? How come?

I don’t think he can bake.

I also don’t seem him being good at boldly lying to people? It’s definitely not his style. He’s more of a lying by omission type of person. I don’t see him being able to spin a tale like Beth, but he also doesn’t have her white privilege/whole suburban mom aesthetic.

Hm, I haven’t rewatched the show in a minute but I think the only time we’ve seen him boldly lie is to Beth -- when he lies about the nature of their relationship. Haha, and he’s really bad at it. Maybe this isn’t the fairest thing to judge him on. But, I think his lying relies on purposeful silence.

Why do you think Rio is drawn to Beth?

I think Rio was drawn to Beth because she’s a survivor, she’s scrappy and she’s smart. I think he’s drawn to how quick she is on her feet. Beth has limited awareness but she can be really good at navigating what’s going for her and leveraging it for her gain (and Rio’s). I think he’s also been drawn to her because she’s a parent, and she can be really brave (I would say reckless!! Beth, stop endangering yourself!).

Beth’s also like absurdly beautiful. Christina is ethereal and they try to make her ... frumpy or something in the show. But... we have eyes. And Rio certainly has eyes for her figure, and her face, and like all the attributes and isn’t shy about letting her know.

Why do you think Rio didn’t kill Beth? Was it their past, his present feelings for her, because he needed her business? Some combination?

I think Rio sees a kindred spirit in Beth and at this point (post-Season 3), she’s in his life now. Despite all that she’s done to him, he seems completely unable to extricate himself from her. I think this due to his present past feelings for her. The business is a bonus, a front if you will.

In Season 2, there were these questions for Beth about whether all of it was real -- if she meant something to Rio, if Beth could walk back all of her crimes so far and retreat into anonymity. In Season 3, we know that Beth can’t let go of crime, and that she’s capable of the same dark deeds as Rio, and we know that Rio did care for her, cares for her still apparently because he’s very much in his feelings. Those Season 3 picnic table scenes? Wow.

Ah, can you believe these two are going to like... have some sort of development in their relationship again? Obviously, it will be full of strife and conflict. But isn’t it wild that we have another Brio sex scene in store for us one day? Jenna Ban’s comment, “You don't go from having the hottest sex of your life to wanting someone dead without conflicted feelings” is just the BIGGEST TEASE. How are our bbs going to be intimate with each other again?

OKAY THIS ENDED UP BEING SUPER LONG. Jeez... If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for engaging with my headcanons. Lmk what you think :-)

#ggweek2020 #rio

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beatnicksellar · 4 years ago

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Marda Loophole: TPB: Issues #7-12

Issue #7 – The Exodus Then: Mada opened her eyes to the inhuman sights and sounds of war Half-men strewn about Bramshott the RCAMC tent soaked in red gore Through the horror she saw her scarecrow the one she treated before Minus a leg he was alive and that was enough to lift her off of the floor Now: Mada opens her eyes to the fuzzy sight of 4 purple children overhead Siphoning energy from a radiant boulder their chant stirs her from the dead A tingle in her toes and sour taste in her mouth the Hole is as Dennis said He labours nearby as the kids stitch Mada together with amethyst thread With the dulling drone done the rock bathes everyone in its immortal hue The old wendigo’s cell unlocks in the uproar allowing her to slip through Before Mada’s blurry eyes the frailest child’s torn from the circuit and slew She can hear the rapacious wendigo sob as she reluctantly continues to chew The plaster walls of the outbuilding begin to buckle from the stone’s potency Suddenly Pope enters the Hole and descends the staircase with much urgency The doctor’s met mid-way by the limping wendigo who embraces him completely Mesmerising him with her wildfire eyes she gladly detaches his loins from his body Dennis returns to find the Hole in shambles with Dot eaten and Dr. Pope screaming He disconnects the kids and requests that Mada give the boys’ lives a new meaning One of the boys grabs a ledger while the other two grip Mada and they begin fleeing Dennis and the wendigo clash by the emitting mound soon buried under the ceiling South Calgary is silent for the first time since the 33 soldiers were secretly dosed But without the hum to calm them they thrashed 33 Avenue like a whipping post Possessed troops overturned the streetcar and chard the theater like it was toast Stiff pedestrians and sate scavengers guide Mada back to her husband Marc’s ghost She mourns over his blood-spattered prosthesis as one boy reads a shard of glass His brothers study the ledger as he peers into the sliver to see what’ll comes to pass ‘We’ll return when the streetcar does’ the scrying boy points to the upturned mass With crazed GIs loose Mada and her boys depart while a curious crow tails her ass… Issue #8 – The Wild Boys ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩ A gayageum plays notes from the concerto called Dorothea The ribbon of rhythm writhes on the airstreams over Korea Baroque tones stir the ancient visage which inspired its idea Eddying over the ocean to hover above a 33rd avenue pizzeria ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩♫ The melody meanders up 20th street pausing at its composer Three long-haired boys that look 10 but are very much older Standing before Currie Barracks Condo they are of one mourner The unrelated triplets commiserate over their deceased sister ‘I cannot feel her in there’ John the empath of the family confirms ‘I cannot reach her’ Robert retorts ‘all I hear is Dennis and worms’ Scryer James perceives future events but cannot grasp their terms ‘All I see is that the stone has been scattering its ill will like germs’ Treating the condo as if a gravestone they pay respect to her spirit With unkempt heads down the trinity are subdued for a moment Each recalls Dot, the Hole, the old woman then all begin to fidget John pulls a music sheet out of his shorts and whistles a snippet ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♬ James and Robert join him in his performance of Dorothea No. 4 When done John tosses the concerto down onto the sewer floor As they skate through the Loop Mada’s name hangs in every store Coffee shops hum with anticipation over the 70-year-old folklore Around the corner of 35th avenue is where a hungry entity stalks A hefty shadow cast from a vacant lot that limps wherever it walks The boys are too distracted to notice the relic from Pandora’s Box Because a fireball is about to knock’em out of their graphic socksIssue #9 – The Vacant LotYellow barricades protect the rich soil within the vacant lotThough ideal for growth it’s contaminated by junkyard rot Comparable to the toxin that comprises Hausis’ blood clot An

inherit gift from her father and the affects it has wrought Over a century old she has been scarred twice by the stoneAs well Hausis has been forced out of more than one homeFrom her log cabin to that school and finally the catacomb A hole she fled full of a plum, revenge and astral syndrome Dark energy leached into her, those boys and the headless one Wendigo mixed with indigo and once again she was on the run But on the Rez her spirits calmed; she even adopted a grandson It was the last time she felt love as the Sixties Scoop had begun Hungry and hateful she hid her mercy and fed on colonial fears Hitchhiking Highway 16 in the 1970s she traded entrails for tears Retribution for her surrogate sisters who had began to disappear When the stone summoned her home she returned with souvenirs She settled in South Calgary and became a landlord to tasty tenants Bones buried in the vacant lot next-door while lying to their parents A cane sword to assist her limp and cutback on the slaying minutes Serrated steel dentures to masticate and absorb her preys’ essence A century old entity at last content with her damned life up until TONIGHT When her plums return assured and still ripe enough to enjoy a quick biteWhen her bone yard is deemed aseptic and police investigation is in sightHausis lunges at the wild boys only to be repelled by a nimbus of starlight… Issue #10 – The Above People CREEEAK! The tactless teenager forcefully opens the oxidized attic door In search of a white wig for her cosplay getup she stomps across the floor Rummaging through containers she finds something unusual in a drawer A thirteen-year-old letter that when opened clarifies exactly who it is for ‘Aline: It’s with regret and sadness that I write this letter to my daughter’ ‘I had to go to a dangerous place so I left you to be raised by your father’ ‘I never stopped loving you or dreaming of the day we would be together’ ‘When you are ready to meet amass juniper twigs and a magpie feather’ Elated to see her mislaid mother Aline flees the loft in her space-opera costume She sprints across 35 Avenue towards a vacant lot shrouded by juniper in bloom Ripping off a bouquet Aline is unaware that just beyond bodies are being exhumed She spots a pudgy magpie perched on the yellow barricade and plucks at its plume Clutching the vital items the Big Dipper shaped beauty marks on her right arm glows FWOOOOM! A blinding white light descends from overhead lifting her off of her toes Aline suddenly finds herself in a melancholy landscape of stars, clouds and shadows Before her sit 2 enormous Above People who enquire as to her odd-looking clothes ‘It’s for Comic-con’ she roars removing the wig ‘who’re you and where’s my mom’ Sun God laughs as Moon Goddess speaks: ‘We see that you were raise with aplomb’ The electric entities sizzle and pop as they struggle to alleviate Aline’s many qualms ‘Your father fell in love with our granddaughter: the Morning Star he wished upon’ ‘But she had to return to Sky-Country to rid it of the evil her mother had let loose’ Mother Moon details how Feather Woman disobeyed and iniquity was introduced ‘She moved the giant turnip that which protects our portal because she was obtuse’ Mother Moon adds she encased the dummy in indigo stone and made her vamoose That is the past but the portal remains open for dark matter to infest Sky-Country The same stuff brought down with the stone when it crashed in the 19th century Aline accuses her great-grandparents of killing her kin and for spreading villainy The Gods giggle at the allegation clarifying Feather Woman merely has an injury More gen is traded and a deal is struck: if Aline fixes the portal all will be forgiven Above People will help find the Morning Star and teach Aline of her nuclear fusion KRA-KOOM! A fiery comet crashes and Aline emerges from impact like a magician Gazing at the wild boys she states ‘You dudes are my gran and we have a mission’… Issue #11 – The Penultimate Sequential squares spread over an infinitude of glittering stars Panels parted by gutters spanning

centuries between the bars A billboard advertises Marc and Mada’s forthcoming memoirs Christened Marda; Loop denotes the superannuated streetcar Inset in the ad is a shot of Magpie gnawing on a decayed thumb bone Balanced on the sign she spots a bird below who was once well known Magpie cries: ‘Ain’t seen you since you left with THAT there veiled crone’ Alit next to Magpie Crow recalls his ghastly exploits beyond the stone ‘It was Hell’ he croaks ‘The screaming, the silence, the suicide attempts’ ‘It took HER forever to bond with THOSE boys and get over her regrets’ ‘Once she did’ Crow pauses ‘she spearheaded some tantalizing events’ Led by the ledger and scryed images they tracked the fiery GIs’ contempt While 7 indigo infected ones enlisted for Korea 26 settled in Forest City An innocuous epithet for somewhere death stalked the streets regularly Enclosed by thickets it’s where butchers would conceal a mutilated body ‘The Serial Killer Capital’ Crow yelps ‘We lured them out during the 1960s’ Crow clarifies that when the GIs moved there each become a major player: Mad Slasher, Bedroom Strangler, Balcony Killer + the Chambermaid Slayer Mada the bait, Crow the lookout, and 3 wild boys unified became the healer ‘In the forest we’d draw out the purple poison leaving the mortals tamer’ Mada’s nursing background afforded them a home and a baby-grand piano She worked while under pseudonyms the boys penned novels & concertos ‘Forest City was safe and we had obtained almost all of that fugitive indigo’ ‘Almost’ Crow echoed ‘We left for Korea in ‘81 on a plane from Toronto’ Magpie squawks sceptically: ‘And then miraculously back for the 70th Anniversary’ {Had it been that long?} the crone ponders {Why did they whitewash my tragedy?} The veiled woman below the advert grimaces then utters anachronistic profanity Stalwart in stance she shudders when the #7 rolls by renewed for the pageantry… Issue #12 – Giant-Size Finale The fixed indigo stone pulsates expelling the remnants of its space toxin Pumped into the faucets of 22 occupants of the new condo atop its coffin Dragging fingers thru mauve hair they’re rapt by the stone’s dim doctrine They riot inside the structure while outside Mada and her wild boys lock in ‘Try it again’ the costumed Aline guides from inside the infinite sealed loop She has juniper and feather in hand yet something is off within their group ‘That thing’s teeing me off’ Mada breaks from the ring and sits on the stoop The rebuilt #7 streetcar gleams in the parking lot next to an effigy of troops Suddenly…a service door opens and the old wendigo limps out of the edifice ‘You’ Hausis growls at Aline ‘You’re relations with that Metis bastard Dennis’ Mada perks up at the name of the man who inadvertently made her endless ‘Are you?’ Mada asks ‘She sure is’ Hausis sniffs ‘and it’s making me ravenous’ Incensed Mada bares the jagged indigo scar spanning the length of her collar ‘Dennis did this’ she states ‘and orchestrated the 1950 South Calgary slaughter’ Aline has entirely no clue as to what occurred because of her great-grandfather And before Mada can educate her the group is spotted by a police helicopter ‘Freeze Ms. Cranmer’ a voice booms as a squad car pulls up with guns drawn Hausis has been hiding since police uncovered the bodies she had feasted on Clotheslined and cuffed the 145-year-old Cree woman is beaten with a baton Aline, Mada and wild boys watch in horror as Hausis is tenderized like carrion The wild child named Robert tugs at Aline’s skirt pointing at the departing cop car ‘Dot’ the 80-year-old kid chirps ‘The hungry lady has carried our sister’s soul so far’ Mada is not their 4th because it is the frail child Hausis mauled like a chocolate bar ‘We need that granny back’ Aline barks at Mada who turns away rubbing her scar Aline suggests they take the idle #7 and propel it with a trick she has just learned ‘Can I borrow a feather from your crow?’ she asks of Mada who still feels scorned Crow leaves Magpie atop the streetlamp landing beside Aline his feathers formed ‘I am not getting on that ’

Mada repeats just as the crazed tenants emerge armed KRA-KOOM! The refurbished #7 streetcar rockets down 20th street like a fireball Crow and Magpie try to slow the tenants’ progress to the 33rd avenue mini-mall Meanwhile the #7 zips down the parade route until it hits the cruiser then a wall Everyone on the #7 is unscathed and so too is Hausis who’s eating a cop’s eyeball Magpie and Crow flutter in to warn everyone of the approaching horde of tenants The wild boys jump into action with a hand out for Hausis who sees it as penance ‘Doesn’t make me a plum’ she gripes grasping John’s hand as if she is pregnant As the 4 siblings unite clouds appear and a powerful deluge forms within minutes The first drop hits as the vicious throng reaches Marda Loop then the sky cries The drenched tenants lose their momentum as the mauve washes over their eyes The rain relents as does the horde but Mada’s inner ire cannot be overemphasized The wild boys embrace Hausis and in turn Dot whose soul has now been reprisedOnlookers have gathered at the site sad to see there’s no anniversary to reminisce Crow and Magpie peck at the injured police officers as Aline stares into the abyss She apologizes to Mada for her relative’s actions but asks for her not to be remiss ‘We cannot change the past’ she points out ‘But if you help us now we can fix this’The wendigo, the crone, the wild boys, the star-child and the scavengers all return Loitering outside of the Currie Barracks condo building hashing out their concerns Hausis has subsisted with the stone while in exile so she knows where it’s interned In the bowels of the sub-basement they find the ancient rock fading in a slow burn John, James and Robert the perpetual 10-year-olds encircle Aline and embrace her Hausis jeers as the boys kiss their kin then whisper in Mada’s ear: Goodbye Mother The siblings start siphoning the stone’s essence back; Aline waves Magpie’s feather Hausis and the boys convert to stardust they swirl around the stone and then enter Aline and Mada escape the building as the boulder flies backwards thru the nexus Its trajectory bearing straight for Sky-Country where it will rid the land of sepsis The portal is sealed and The Above People welcome Feather Woman and Hausis Back in South Calgary Mada stands in the quiet rubble no longer feeling headless ‘Wanna meet my dad?’ Aline asks of her lithe friend who nods producing a smile Mada calls Crow but he and Magpie are stardust in a constellation of their profile Unveiled Mada and neophyte Aline walk towards a rainbow after their long trial As both fade over the hill stardust diffuses and floats to somewhere worthwhile An End

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harry-lloyd · 5 years ago

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In many ways, the horrible wig was the best thing to happen to Harry Lloyd.

The shock of platinum blonde hair, slashed to a sensible bob at his shoulders like a high-fashion Legolas, was the coif that tied Lloyd’s indelible, insufferable Game of Thrones character together: Viserys Targaryen, the petulant narcissist whose play for the Iron Throne melts along with the rest of him under a pot of molten metal poured over his head, one of the show’s first and most iconic gruesome death scenes.

The splashy HBO production was the biggest job the young actor had ever landed, and as a character with an unmistakable, unforgettable look, to boot— the better to sear into TV fans’ consciousness.

Blessedly, that unmistakable, unforgettable look in no way actually resembled him, a then-27-year-old rising star with short, dark brown hair and alabaster complexion. He played one of the most memorable characters in recent TV history on possibly the last truly massive global TV phenomenon, yet, by the grace of a wig, he was still unrecognizable.

“I kind of loved that,” Lloyd tells The Daily Beast over Zoom from the loft study in his North London home. “And I kind of loved that he died. He had this lovely arc, and he still has his place in this enormous and infamous canon.”

Given how vivid that arc is in Thrones lore, it’s almost startling to remember that he was only on five episodes of the show.

“I had my go,” he says. “I got in early and I got out early. And he didn’t look like me, which, number one, is good because he is a little shit. And so I was happy to not have people throwing stuff at me in the streets. But number two, and I didn’t notice at the time, but it has since become the biggest show on TV. It doesn’t make me worry about being typecast so much.”

In the years since becoming a scalded puddle of boiling jewels and flesh, Lloyd has been able to shapeshift through an impressive résumé of prestige TV series and award-nominated films—Manhattan, Wolf Hall, Counterpart, Legion, The Theory of Everything—relieved of the kind of limitations actors who play little shits in garish white wigs on TV’s biggest show typically shoulder.

The occasion for our conversation is yet another transformation, as Bernard Marx in Brave New World, the splashy adaptation of Aldous Huxley’s 1932 dystopian sci-fi novel. The series is the marquee original offering for Wednesday’s launch of the new Peacock streaming service, casting Downton Abbey alum Jessica Brown Findlay and Han Solo himself, Alden Ehrenreich, alongside Lloyd in an updated take on the classic work.

Brave New World thwarts the idea of a restrictive, Orwellian dystopia with one in which society is instead forced into surrendering their inhibitions. “Welcome to New London,” a prologue explains. “We have three rules. No privacy. No family. No monogamy. Everyone is very happy.”

The new series boasts modernized flourishes when it comes to style—if there had been this much sex in Huxley’s book, we would have paid far more attention to it in high school—and sensibility; some of the problematically racist and misogynistic themes and plot points have been corrected.

Lloyd’s Bernard is an upper echelon member of society, called an Alpha-Plus, whose job is to maintain social order. Throughout the series, he experiences a crisis of conscience, an existential awakening at odds with the blissful stasis he’s meant to both control and enjoy.

If a narrow escape from typecasting and a career playing snooty, megalomaniacal manchildren has meant a diverse array of opportunity for Lloyd, then Brave New World marks more new territory: It’s his first outright leading role.

Lloyd had never read Huxley’s book before being cast, but was impressed by the ambition of the script, “almost like a mega tentpole movie in scale” but esoteric and satirical at the same time. “I was like, this has the whole package if they can shoot this, but I don’t think they can.”

It took one day on set for him to catch wise to the technical prowess at play. “I was like, wow, this really is a brave new world,” he says.

Don’t worry. He promptly scoffed at himself and rolled his eyes.

It is one of the best opening lines to a profile that I’ve read, from a 2011 feature on Lloyd that ran in Britain’s The Independent: “There was a time when Harry Lloyd worried that he was forever going to be typecast—as a woman.”

It was in reference to Lloyd’s days as a student at Eton College, where the young teen’s voice had not yet broken and he was cast as women in a slew of all-male Shakespeare productions.

Here we were prepping to engage with Lloyd about the perils of typecasting following his Thrones stint, ignorant of the fact that he had already confronted the issue decades earlier.

Lloyd laughs good-naturedly when the era of fake bras and bonnets is brought up.

“I hated it,” he says. Just when he had vowed never to agree to it again, in his last year at school he was asked to play Rosalind in As You Like It, by all counts a fantastic leading part. He nailed it, and earned raves. “At an all-boys boarding school, it took balls to put on tights, as it was.” A perfectly-earned smirk at his own joke follows.

The truth is that being typecast or pigeon-holed is a stressor that followed Lloyd, who grew up in London with parents who worked in the book industry. “Sometimes it’s just the face you have at a certain age…” he says.

His first major role came at age 15 in the BBC’s 1999 adaptation of David Copperfield, opposite Daniel Radcliffe. (Adding another fascinating layer to the trivia: Lloyd himself is the great-great-great grandson of Charles Dickens.) One of his first jobs after that was playing a bullying prefect in the series Goodbye, Mr. Chips.

“I guess that’s what I looked like, and I did that a couple of times,” he says. “Then I was like, I don’t really want to just be that guy. He’s a bit of a dick. And then I think next up I played the murderer in some procedural police thing, some young kid that’s gone sideways.”

Each time he felt a box starting to close its sides around him, he actively sought out something different. Having Great Expectations, in which he played Herbert Pocket, “the loveliest, most benign chap you’d ever meet,” air months after his Thrones debut was key. But he can’t refute that, with or without a platinum wig, there’s something about the way he looks that telegraphs a certain kind of sinister character.

“If I turn up in a murder thing, it’s often me who’s done it,” he says, grinning. “I don’t want to give anything away from the stuff I’ve been in. But I don’t know, there’s something about my face that is like, ‘He could do it.’”

After he had finished filming his part on Thrones and the series was about to come out, he was cast in the buzzy West End production of the Tony-winning play The Little Dog Laughed.

If you’re familiar with the work, a satire about Hollywood illusion (and delusion) in which an acerbic, big-wig agent crisis manages her rising-star client’s pesky “recurring case of homosexuality,” you understand why it’s a fairly hilarious, if sobering, project to be involved in just as an actor’s own fame and industry profile is about to skyrocket.

“Because I was about to be on Game of Thrones, I thought, this is the time for me to get an American agent,” he recalls. “And so the American agents, when they were in London, would come and see me in this play, which basically looks at agenting and their ways with quite a big, angry magnifying glass. They would come backstage and say, ‘Look, I am not like that…’” He laughs. “It was always quite a funny way to start the proceedings.”

Having starred in episodes of Dr. Who and played Charles Xavier in Legion, not to mention his connection to Thrones, Lloyd has had his taste of the particular brand of rabid, Comic-Con fandom. Though he prefers to classify himself as “adjacent-adjacent” to that world.

While there are certainly those who will know right away that he was a Targaryen, what he gets more of is a “Wait, how do I know you?” awkward conversation. “Genuinely, people are like, ‘Hey, did I go to school with you?’ I’m at that level of renown. You can’t quite place why you might recognize me.”

Asked how life under the coronavirus shutdown has been, Lloyd is very British about the months spent with his wife and their almost-2-year-old. “We’ve done alright,” he says. “We learned how to finally kind of plan our fridge. And now we know how to do our shopping tactically. We cooked some good stuff.”

For fear of sounding “solipsistic,” to use a word employed often in Brave New World, he identifies the extended time home with typical feelings actors have throughout their career.

“You have accelerated times in your life when things happen like a dream,” he says. “Things are so fast and our whole world’s rebuilt entirely every time you get a job. And then is the come-down and the fallout.”

He remembers that feeling from when he was doing plays: the energy and pace of putting on the show, and then a few weeks after it ends there’s a massive crash.

“It feels a bit like you’re in lockdown. You stare around on a Tuesday afternoon. You don’t want to watch anything. You don’t know what to do or who to call, and you kind of lose your style. There’s been a bit of that.”

Just when things got to the point that he felt like he might lose his mind, he was contracted to record an audiobook. So for a couple of days a week, he would sit up in his “sweatbox made out of duvets” and read Great Expectations aloud for Penguin. “That saved me for sure.”

On the subject of works by his great-great-great grandfather, Lloyd used to be at a loss for what to do when people brought it up. Often they would say, “Congratulations!” on the relation, as if he had accomplished something himself by being born into Charles Dickens’ lineage. “But these days, I’ll take it, I’ve decided. ‘Yeah, thank you so much.’ It’s a nice thing to celebrate.”

The 150th anniversary of Dickens’ death was in June. There had been plans for a commemoration ceremony at Westminster Abbey that, because of the shutdown, became a Zoom event instead.

“I don’t know how many people’s deaths get a 150th anniversary,” he says. “The fact that I have any kind of personal connection with that is very much secondary. But something that I’m very proud of.”

At risk of belaboring the point, we ask if working on any of the Dickens adaptations he’s starred in on TV or recording this audiobook makes Lloyd feel any sort of profound or poignant connection to him.

He laughs. “I can’t point to a physical sensation like hairs in the back of my neck standing. ‘I feel him. It’s me and Chucky D in the room right now.’”

#harry lloyd #interview

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justanoutlawfic · 5 years ago

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Coming Home: Chapt. 4

Summary: Emma isn't the only one with a box of memories. David and Mary Margaret go over it together, while making a plan for how to keep their daughter in town. Meanwhile, an unknown ally is helping them along.

Also on AO3/FF

January 6th, 1989

Emma had been quiet ever since she moved in with them. Mary Margaret did everything she could to open the little girl up but it had been a challenge. She had it expected it. August barely said two words to them after he arrived in Storybrooke. Even so, Mary Margaret knew this could be a longer placement and she wanted to get Emma acclimated as much as possible. A few days after Emma arrived, Mary Margaret decided to take her shopping.

“I have lots of stuff back at the house,” Emma said as they walked into the only office supply store in town.

“You do, but I got a list from your new teacher,” Mary Margaret explained. “School starts again on Monday, so you’ll need some stuff I didn’t want to get you until we met.”

“Like what?”

“Like a backpack.”

“I have one already.”

Mary Margaret didn’t want to point out that Emma’s backpack was falling apart. It could barely hold the beautiful baby blanket that was inside of it along with the one other outfit that she had from her previous home. Instead, she steered Emma over to the section where they were lined up on the wall.

“Well, I want to treat you to a new one.” Mary Margaret gestured to the selections. “You can pick any one you want and a lunchbox.”

Emma tilted her head and Mary Margaret had to stop herself from smiling too wide. “A lunchbox? Normally I get free lunch at school.”

“Well, you could get lunch from the cafeteria or you could have yummy stuff that David makes you.”

Emma seemed as though she was debating it for a bit. “David’s food is yummy.”

“It is, huh?” Mary Margaret held out a pink one for Emma to inspect, which got a wrinkled nose. “No pink?”

“I like yellow…and red.”

“Well, I’m sure we could find one of those.”

She and Emma looked down the section, with Mary Margaret offering different ones to her. None really seemed to catch the little girl’s eye. Mary Margaret reached to grab some ice packs for the lunchbox when she saw Emma examining a denim backpack. It would be big enough for all her stuff and was quite stylish, if Mary Margaret was being honest.

“That one, sweets?” Emma looked up and nodded. Mary Margaret smiled. “I like it too.” She took it off the shelf and put it in the cart. “Now for the lunchbox.”

Emma found a Rainbow Brite lunchbox she liked. It was bright yellow and had the characters on the front. Alongside of it was a matching thermos, which would be perfect for soups or pastas that David liked to make. Next, they went to look at the supplies. Mrs. Anderson had requested a huge box of crayons, some glue sticks and scissors. Emma looked nervously at the list.

“I’ve never been to a new school before.”

Mary Margaret set the list onto her purse and knelt down to her height. “It’s a little scary, huh?” Emma nodded, her green eyes widening a bit. “Well, you know I’m a teacher, right?”

“Yeah, for bigger kids.”

“4th grade. But, I happen to be friends with a lot of the teachers and I know Mrs. Anderson is very nice. She has a fun classroom with lots of toys. You even get to take a nap halfway through the day.” Emma still didn’t look convinced. “And if anything were to happen, you know you could always come find me.”

“Really?”

“Pinky swear.” Mary Margaret held out her pinky and waited for Emma to wrap hers around it. “The best part is, the kindergarteners get their very own playground, with a twisty slide.”

Emma’s eyes seemed to light up at that. “I’ve never seen one of those.”

“Well then I’m sure Mrs. Anderson and the other kids will be happy to show it to you.”

Emma suddenly flung her arms around Mary Margaret’s torso. Mary Margaret nearly fell over, but caught herself before wrapping her arms around Emma.

“I’m glad my new foster mom is a teacher.”

Mary Margaret stroked Emma’s golden curls. “Well, I’m happy to have you as a foster daughter, Emma.”

“Emma.”

Mary Margaret stood up with Emma in her arms and turned to face the source of the voice. It was Mr. Gold. In one hand, he balanced a cane. In the other, was a basket filled with stationary and pens.

“Mr. Gold,” Mary Margaret said, politely. She didn’t know the man too well, outside the fact that he practically owned the whole town. Granny was always complaining about how high he made the rent. It was partially why she and David had bought, instead of rented. He also owned an antique store on Main Street, but she had never been inside. “How are you?”

“Quite fine, dearie.” He looked over at Emma, who was clinging to her foster mother. “So, Emma.”

“David and I are fostering,” Mary Margaret explained. “This is our newest placement.”

Mr. Gold nodded, though he didn’t look thoroughly convinced. Why would he think she was lying about a thing like that? “Right.” He blinked a few times, before a smile came across his face. “Well, have a lovely day, Mrs. Nolan and…Emma.”

Mr. Gold walked away, the sound of his cane scraping against the tile floors. Emma clung a bit tighter to Mary Margaret.

“Who was that?”

“Mr. Gold, he owns a shop in town.”

“Oh.” Emma’s eyebrows furrowed. “He kept staring at me. You’re not supposed to stare.”

“I know, sweets, but he means no harm.” Mary Margaret rubbed her back. “Come on, we need to find you some new sneakers.”

October 26th, 2011

Mary Margaret didn’t have much from her time with her foster daughter. The possessions stayed in a box in the back of her closet. A few toys like the Cabbage Patch doll she had gotten for Valentine’s Day or the stuffed lamb that David had selected for her. There was the sign that once hung in her room “You are my sunshine”. Finally, she had Emma’s old lunchbox. She wasn’t sure why that was the one thing she kept. Maybe because it wasn’t just a connection to Emma, but her ex-husband too. David would make both of their lunches every night before he went to bed. Normally, PB&J for Emma and some leftovers for Mary Margaret. Still, they were always appreciated.

At the bottom of the lunchbox was a post-it note that David had put in there, just as he did every day.

Hope you’re having a good day, Emmy. Love, Daddy.

Daddy. Emma had started calling them by proper parental names just a few months into staying with them. They had no doubt that they would be able to adopt her. There was no reason why they shouldn’t be able to. And then, it was all taken away because of a stupid mistake that she made.

She knew David had never forgiven her for it. Sure, he said he didn’t blame her but Mary Margaret saw the look in his eyes the days after Emma left. The way he stopped touching her. He was the one that had called Helen and told her that they didn’t want any more placements. Why would he have done all of that if he didn’t blame her?

They had been divorced for such a long time and yet Mary Margaret could still remember everything about their divorce. Life before Emma’s arrival and after she left was fuzzy, but that was clear as day. The silence turned to fighting, but even that dissipated. Before she knew it, she was going to Gold and asking him to draw up divorce papers. The man that had once given them such hope that they were going to be a family was making it clear that they never would be.

Neither stayed in the house. Instead, they sold it and split the profits. David started renting a house not far from where they once lived, while Mary Margaret moved to a loft in the center of town. It was small, perfect for a new divorcee. There was even the clawfoot tub that she had always dreamed of.

She still would’ve given anything to have him back.

The door to her loft opened and Mary Margaret looked up to find David standing there. After avoiding each other for years, Emma was the one thing to pull them back together.

“She talking to you yet?” he asked.

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I tried to visit her room at Granny’s but she wouldn’t open the door.”

David threw himself onto the couch and let out a sigh. “I pictured this with her as a teenager, but not now.”

Mary Margaret gently rolled her eyes. “Please, you would’ve been the favorite when she was 13. All teenage girls hate their moms.”

“But their moms are the ones they go to when crap hits the fan.”

She smiled, even though she didn’t want to. “I guess that’s true.”

“Besides, I don’t know if she ever had a favorite. We both gave her what she needed in our own ways.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “I guess that’s true.”

David’s eyes traveled to the box in front of her. He made his way down to the floor and lifted out the lamb, running his fingers through the dingy fur.

“I nearly forgot about this,” he whispered.

“I didn’t keep a lot after we moved, but this was just the stuff I couldn’t part with.”

“Yeah, I have her old sun pillow.” He shrugged when Mary Margaret looked at him confused. “I keep it on my couch, a reminder of what could’ve been.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “I go through my closet every week, I tell myself I’m reorganizing it, but I think it’s just an excuse to look through all of this.”

It’s weird how easy they can communicate. Mary Margaret told herself it was for Emma. She was their weight to the world.

“You’re punishing yourself,” David said.

“I guess I took over for you.”

David looked at her strangely. Mary Margaret closed the box and started to head back to her closet.

“Did you have a reason for coming over?” she asked.

David bit his lip. “I know we don’t get along the way we used to Mary Margaret, but once upon a time, we did.”

“A lot has changed since then.”

“I know that. I was there.”

And then you weren’t. But she had asked him to leave, so could she really blame him for that?

David continued on, pulling himself up. The plush lamb was clutched tightly in his grip. “We want Emma to stay, there’s no doubt about that. So maybe we can just try to put the past behind us. If she just sees us fighting, that’s not going to remind her of the good times that this place brought her.”

Mary Margaret set the box down onto her bed. “I guess that’s true.”

“So…truce? At least for Emma?”

He extended the lamb and she allowed her hand to go over it.

“Truce,” she whispered. “For Emma.”

*******************************************************************************************

Not much had changed in Storybrooke in the 23 years since Emma left. Granny’s grilled cheese was no exception. The way she somehow managed to combine the three cheeses and perfectly toast the bread was a marvel. She hadn’t been able to find one like it since she left all those years ago. The onion rings were huge and never left her hungry.

It was hard to find reasons to hate the town. As much as she wanted to only remember the bad times, ever since she ran into Mary Margaret it was nearly impossible. Memories of running around at the beach or the park. Getting ice cream after school with David. Sitting on Mary Margaret’s desk while she graded papers and occasionally let Emma put unicorn stickers on the pages.

Why did she have to remember all of that? It was hard enough having to remember the bad, but remembering the good meant that there was something great and she was forced to leave it.

“Miss Swan.”

Emma nearly dropped her sandwich at the sound of Mr. Gold’s voice. She looked up in shock, but he just had that same steady smile on his face that he always had.

“Mr. Gold,” Emma placed her sandwich down and took a swig of her root beer. “You trying to take 10 years off my life?”

He chuckled. “Just wanted to see how you were enjoying our town.”

“It’s…practically the same.” She looked around the diner. “Weird how no one’s aged.”

“Oh, they have, just not in the ways you’d expect.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow. She remembered being scared of this man when she was 5 years old. Now, he was more of a mystery.

“I heard you’re staying with us for a bit.”

“Just until I can get my car fixed. Then I’m out of here.”

“I’m sure Ms. Blanchard and Mr. Nolan were sad to hear that.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Forgive me if I don’t care about how they feel. They’re the ones that gave me up.”

“Life is more complicated than we normally think. Sometimes, parents have to let go and regret it.”

“What would you know about it?”

Emma reached down to take a bite of her sandwich and when she looked up, she saw a haunted gaze over him.

“You don’t know what I know.”

She felt even more puzzled by that. “Pardon?”

Gold snapped out of it, returning to his no-nonsense stare. “Your parents didn’t want to give you up.”

“Foster parents,” Emma corrected. “And they did.”

“There are always three sides to the truth, Miss Swan. His, hers and the truth.” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope. “I happen to have the third.”

“How…”

“You were quite young when all of that was going on, but let me remind you that I was their attorney. Everything that happened, went through me.”

He placed the envelope on the table, making sure to be careful of her ketchup dipping bowl.

“If you don’t believe them or me, believe the legal documents.”

He reached down and stole an onion ring from her plate, popping it in his mouth.

“I’ve always preferred fries,” he mused, walking away.

Emma stared at the envelope. It was thick, with her first name on it. She wasn’t sure how much she could trust it. Mary Margaret and David could have paid him to falsify something. Then again, Mr. Gold didn’t seem like the type.

Slowly, she picked it up and put it into her backpack. She’d read it. Not for them, but for herself. After 23 years, she deserved answers.

#coming home verse #snowing #snowing au #charming family #emma swan #ouat au #ouat #once upon a time

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