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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 4 years ago

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Crashing | Jurdan Fake Hating One Shot

Written for: @poeticbrownmermaid for my 1k celebration!

Massive thank you to: @clockworkgraystairs and @sweetlyvillainous for beta reading this and holding my hand before I posted 🥺❤️

Summary: You’ve heard of fake dating. Get ready for fake hating. It’s all very romantic.

Rating: M/E for explicit language and a short, soft focus smut scene (a steam scene, if you will). The sexy parts start and stop after the ☽☽ in case you want to skip.

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“You taste—” I’m cut off by my own giggle, which rises to my lips like my mouth is a glass and my laugh is the Champagne they’re serving at this dumb party. “You taste like bubblegum.”

Cardan looks at me funny, then snorts. “What?”

His eyes are beguiling when they’re amused. Even more beguiling when they’re amused and looking at me. They are dark intoxication. They compete against the night sky for vastness. I could swallow them whole.

We’re on the terrace under the stars outside his fancy-pants mansion. I’m sitting on the stone railing, my knees bracketing his lithe frame. His hands and lips are breathless effervescence on me.

I’m in a daring dress of red satin that I would’ve never chosen for myself had Oriana not insisted on finding us girls a tailor. It’s an elegant, backless number with an audacious slit up the side. The whole time before this in the ballroom, I could sense Cardan’s eyes eating it up while he pretended to hate me.

In this dress, I am a femme fatale spy from a film, meeting her tryst in the secret of shadows. Which is honestly not too far off from the reality of the situation, though I am no spy.

Cardan ghosts one hand up the exposed skin of my thigh. The night air is bracing as his touch.

“Jude,” he murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

He’s in a rakish black velvet suit with two blood-red rubies dangling from the pointed tips of his collar. It is decadence and sin given form. The first hour of this hell party was just that: Hell. By the time Cardan pressed a napkin into my palm with the words “Terrace. 10 min.” scrawled on it in smeared ink, I was beginning to glare at him in earnest—if only for the way he must’ve known he was teasing me.

Now, we’re making out behind two conveniently tall potted plants.

It’s all very romantic.

“I had one glass of wine, Cardan,” I say. I slide my hands from his hair and scrape my nails lightly down the column of his neck. It is heady, watching his eyes shutter. My hands slide down his chest and take up his lapels. I give them a firm tug. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I,” he says, lips hovering over my own, “Don’t believe you.” His breath fans across my face. It really does smell like bubblegum. And not the minty kind, either. I’m talking bright pink and bubblicious.

I lean back a little and stick my bottom lip out in a mock-pout. “Why not?”

“For starters,” he says, “You’re a lightweight.” He trails that damned hand down my exposed thigh again.

I shiver. “So? I also ate like twenty of those canopy things.”

“Canapés?” Cardan smirks.

“Yeah, whatever, Your Highness.”

He flashes me a grin and I’m briefly stricken into silence. “Then, what have you to say to your unprecedented giddiness this evening, Your Majesty?”

“Ew, don’t call me that.” I grimace. “I just called you ‘Your Highness’.”

“What? Scared of the implication?”

“Uh, yeah.” My brows shoot up on my forehead. “Mainly because it implies that I’m your mother.”

Cardan’s face goes slack. “Shit, really?”

I nod and bite back my grin.

“I thought they were interchangeable.”

“About as interchangeable as a fork and a spoon.”

He sputters a laugh. “Shows what I know about royalty.”

“You realise how ironic that is, don’t you?” I say, nodding pointedly in the direction of the party.

It goes on without us, spilling its mirth in great golden shafts out onto the terrace. It doesn’t touch us, though. The air is cool, clear of the preening bullshit that so regularly lathers these kinds of events. And though he makes me dizzy, Cardan is the only real thing here.

I think I like parties better this way. From the shadows. In there, we’d have to talk to people, explain ourselves. We’re supposed to hate each other. We were always supposed to hate each other.

A smile plays at the corners of Cardan’s lips as if he’s gleaned these thoughts of mine. “You haven’t answered my question.”

I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m too giddy to not be drunk.”

“Mhmm.” He nudges his nose against mine. “I’ve never heard you giggle before.” A slender finger tracks up my spine and it takes a considerable amount of concentration not to squeeze my thighs together. Goosebumps and a flush spring to my skin, anyway. “It’s delightful,” he tells me.

“Well, maybe you should work on your sense of humour.” My voice comes out shakier than I want it to.

“Maybe,” Cardan says, grabbing the back of my knee and hitching it up. “But that sounds like effort.”

I want to roll my eyes. This is exactly the reason we used to hate each other. His laziness, his arrogance, and entitlement made me want to punch him clean across his pretty cheekbones. I know my stubbornness and sharp tongue made him hate me right back.

Yet, when our worlds crumbled around us, we found ourselves crashing into each other. Entwined in a thicket of mutual understanding. Suddenly, there was so very little to hate.

We pretend to in public to keep up appearances. Everyone knows we hated each other. If we started being friendly around everyone else, people would talk. That’s the last thing we want. Even if they’d technically be right.

In private, though, Cardan is probably my most closely held secret.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still annoying as all hell. Like right now. But I’ve always liked a challenge.

I hook my leg around his back, pulling him in. My fingers card through his hair again. “I can be delightful in other ways,” I say, biting my lip.

His eyes lower to my mouth. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Cardan’s voice comes out a rasp. He cants my chin with the crook of his finger, pulling my lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. He looks at me with undiluted lust. The weight of his gaze is like a dizzying nightmare.

Then, he devours me.

Our mouths slide together, slowly at first, but building in fervor. Hot and heavy, like a fever. His grip on my thigh is bruising. His other hand splays across my bare back, crushing me to him, long fingers twining in my hair. Everything turns saturated and slow.

I invade his mouth with my tongue, determined to drink him up. He tastes like bubblegum and our reconciliation. At the same time, I hook my other leg behind him so he’s pressed flush against the apex of my thighs. ☽☽

A muffled groan rolls between his teeth. “Fuck, Jude.” Cardan is growing firm beneath his trousers. The feel of it sends a curl of sweet desire, dark and throbbing, through my core.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that,” I tease. I’m so featherbrained on the savour of his mouth, his liquid touch. My veins feel full of amber liquor instead of blood. I know I’m not drunk, and yet I feel it.

His fingers drawl back up my leg. “The question is, dear,” he says, “Can you be quiet?” The coolness of his hands sends a shock along the heat of my inner thigh.

I realise where he’s going with this and my breath hitches. My cheeks blaze. “Yes,” I tell him, though I don’t sound as confident as I should for such a high stakes rendezvous.

“Hmm,” Cardan thrums. “We’ll see about that.”

His fingers are deft and twice as sly. He hisses through his teeth when they glide over me, exploring.

As a steady rain, he begins my unravelling. His mouth covers mine, swallowing a soft whimper that escapes my throat. I want to moan his name, to curse aloud, but I can’t if we’re to stay hidden.

The thought is both terrible and exciting at once.

Cardan keeps a torturous pace. I cling to him, panting, clutching at his arms, clawing at his back. His mouth roams my jawline. His teeth tug my ear. My mind is frenetic, frenzied, and at once thick in a viscous haze.

All I can think about is how this party is so stupid and soul-sucking, but Cardan is the farthest thing from stupid and soul-sucking. About how he makes me feel very much alive. About how I like him more than anyone here, probably more than even myself.

His other arm wraps certain and solid around me as he spins my world on its side. I lean my forehead on his shoulder. He kisses my neck. I can’t help the gasps that leave me.

My heart is racing. So quickly does it pump, in time with his ministrations, I think I might turn to white lightning in a bottle before all is said and done.

I know it when I’m drawing towards that precipice. My toes curl and flex. My legs begin to quiver. My knees lock up.

“Cardan,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Can you be quiet for me, Jude?” Cardan murmurs rough against my ear. He sounds a little breathless, too.

I am so muddled, I am so close. I can only manage a soft sob in response. Now he’s doubling his efforts and oh, gods is he clever.

I bite his shoulder to keep from making a sound as I shoot over the edge, a wondrous arc so high I’m sure I scrape the stars of their dust.

My hips writhe against his palm. I pull and rake my fingers through his hair as I spiral through the five stages of sweet delirium.

He holds me through it. Presses his lips to my hair and whispers what I think must be comforting things into my ear. I can’t tell because I’m incapable of comprehending much of anything beyond myself in his arms. He strokes soft circles over my back until it’s done. ☽☽

When everything settles, I’m still clinging to him, my forehead against the sureness of his shoulder. A sheen of sweat dewing my skin.

I’ve always hated this part about intimacy. The aftermath. Everything is too quiet. The excitement is gone. You’re faced with the reality of looking at each other without the rosy filter of lust. Maybe you’ll see each other for who you really are, and that’s a scary thought.

That’s probably how I felt once with Cardan, too. Back when we started…whatever this is. But now, in this moment with him, it feels less vulnerable and more like holding someone’s hand as you stare upon something a little terrifying.

Which is why I’m able to look up at him and ask in every manner of seriousness, “Why do you taste like bubblegum?”

His responding laugh is gentle and he shakes his head. “One-track mind,” he says. I shrug and wait.

“They’re serving bubblegum cocktails at the bar inside.”

My nose crinkles. “You actually drank one of those?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“No, I think I’ll sleep quite soundly if I never do.”

Cardan gives me an awful kind of grin that makes my toes curl anew. “Didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he says, then tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “I happen to like bubblegum cocktails.”

I give him a dubious look. I can’t help but feel that maybe we’re not talking about bubblegum cocktails anymore.

For a long moment, we just sit there staring at each other. There’s a bloom of laughter from inside the house. The clink of glasses. His eyes trace the lines of my face. I still feel drunk on him and he’s looking at me too soberly.

So I say, “You have shit taste, then,” and hop off the railing. I side-step him before beginning the task of smoothing down my dress. If I walk back into the party all flushed and disheveled, people will know what I’ve been doing—which is almost as bad as if people knew who I’ve been doing.

“Oh, you can’t say that dear,” Cardan lilts as he leans back against the balcony with all the insouciance of someone who lives in this ridiculous mansion. And rightly so, because he does. “Not when you taste equally delicious.” Then he brings his fingers, the ones that have just been inside me, to his mouth and closes his lips around them, burning gaze locked on mine.

My eyes go wide. My jaw slacks as I watch him. I’m somewhere between affronted by his audacity and completely turned on again. Which is a confusing place to be.

He laughs at my probably very foolish expression and I turn on my heel to head back to the party. I’m not actually offended. I just can’t bear to look at him while he’s tasting me off his fingers without combusting on the spot.

Cardan grabs my wrist. “Wait, wait,” he says, still laughing.

I arc a brow and turn to face him. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and sounds earnest enough. “It’s just… you make me giddy, too.”

His words are a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realised it until he said it, but it’s true. It’s not the way he kisses me or the high of a climax, though those are surely nice things, too. It’s the way I feel when we’re together. Just his presence makes my head swim, my stomach turn flips.

He makes me feel a little bit invincible, and entirely beyond reason.

I look at him, the warm glow of the party playing off the sharp angles of his face. He’s still holding my hand, fiddling with the ruby ring I always wear.

On the crest of a breath, Cardan says, “Stay tonight.”

“Why?” I whisper, because we’ve never spent the night. I’m not sure we’d even know how.

“Because I’ll miss you terribly?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I think you’ll survive.”

“Because you’ll miss me terribly.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely survive,” I say. Even as my heart gives a squeeze. I don’t want to leave.

Not yet, not yet.

“Because you’re too intoxicated to drive home,” he says.

“I took an Uber here, Cardan,” I tell him. “And for the last time, I’m not drunk.”

“I’m not saying you’re drunk, Jude.”

He’s not grinning at me, which I think is a good sign. It means he’s not hinting at something sexual. Then again, that might also be a very bad sign. It means he’s hinting at something deeper. I’m not sure I want to get into that conversation just yet.

“Fine,” I say. I do want to stay. The thought of it sends a little thrill through me. “Hate me for an hour more. We’ll have a big argument about… something. And then I’ll tell Madoc I’m leaving.”

His hands snake around my waist. “What will we argue about tonight?”

I smile at him sweetly. “If your head is half as cunning as your fingers, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Cardan hums. “I do love it when we’re at each other’s throats.”

I roll my eyes but I’m betrayed by my laugh for not the first time tonight. Stupid punch-drunk feelings.

☽☽☽☽☽

Enjoyed this? Try: King | Wicked Game | We’re All Mad Here

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AN: So this was supposed to be a drabble for my 1k celebration but my hand slipped and whoops! It’s 2.5K words. I really hope you enjoyed this secret tryst one shot. I had so much fun writing it. If you liked this and want to see more from me, comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated!

I have a tag list so if you’d like to be added to that, let me know in the comments/my messages/inbox and I’d be happy to add you! I also recently jumped on the Twitter/Instagram bandwagon. You can follow me @/rebelwriter23 on Twitter and @/slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Instagram.

Back to the forest now. -Em 🖤💫

Title Inspo: Crashing- Illenium

Tag List: @velarhysismine @knifewifejude @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte @clockworkgraystairs @thesirenwashere @judexcardanxgreenbriar @nite0wl29 @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @whocares-idont @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous @aesthetics-11 @storiesandschemes @jurdanhell @poeticbrownmermaid @thechainofiron @random-llama-socks @villanellevi @lady-thea-of-narnia @b00kworm @flowersinvegas @vanessa172003 @cardanstrickytail @queen-of-glass @doingmyrainbow @words-of-the-wise @scarznstars @charincharge @fizziefaerie @fateandluminary @tessas-herondales @styles-taylor @jyoti96 @losssssstttttt @transbordeamento @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer @woodsbeyond1 @hizqueen4life @highqueenjudeduarte @m-like-magic1-blog @dorkzrul @whataboutmyfries @livelovereading123 @queenofgreenbriar @ireallyshouldsleeprn @lifeminuspickles @df3ndyr @christalpaez @aknymph @iammissstark @disco-tits1 @star-flecked-soul

#tfota #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota fic #jurdan fic #tcp #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #queen of nothing #twk #qon #tqon #holly black #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte x cardan greenbriar

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 2

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let’s try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We’re living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn’t actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @vozit @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Peter woke me up at eight AM the next morning like the little shit that he was, demanding I make him pancakes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had the joy to experience him in the morning and he knew exactly how to antagonise me enough to make him the special pancakes he liked so much. They had become kind of a ritual whenever he stayed over at my house, which was quite often - teachers liked me enough to pair me up with one of the most sensible kids for any projects that couldn’t be done alone by yours truly on her own.

I put on my yesterday’s dress, applied moisturizer and obediently trotted behind an excitedly mumbling Peter. The kitchen was large, beautiful and delightfully empty of any resident superheroes. I’ve indirectly crossed paths with all of the tower’s residents hanging around Tony, but I’ve yet had to speak more than polite niceties to any of them.

Spying a bowl of boiled eggs and some sort of weird salad alongside half burned toast on the counter, I suddenly understood why Peter demanded his pancakes. I strictly instructed the disaster child to stay away from my cooking process and set to work with one ear listening to his ramblings and a headphone in the other.

A set of thumping footsteps appeared behind me as I was pouring the batter for the first pancake. Their owner loudly sat down next to Peter, sighing, groaning, generally making “I’m not a morning person” sounds.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Peter’s tone was way, way too chipper.

“‘mrng,” The Sergeant grumbled. “Who’s this and why is she making pancakes?”

I turned around, spatula at the ready. “It’s me,” We’ve actually met before, but Barnes had left before I could even come over from my side of the work bench to say hello.

He nodded in acknowledgement after giving me a suspicious once-over. “One of Stark’s science children. I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” His voice sounded rough and gravely, and he clutched a coffee cup half the size of my head.

I snorted. “Science child, sure,” It wasn’t half-bad actually. I wisely choose to ignore the part of being Tony’s. No matter how hot the man was, I wasn’t anybody’s but my own, thank you very much. “Go get the bananas, Nutella and maple syrup, fellow science child.”

Peter scrambled to follow instructions as I plated the pancakes and cut the bananas into neat little rings to fill the sweet circles with. A tablespoon of Nutella, half a sliced banana, wrap, garnish with powdered sugar and pour maple syrup generously on top. I really didn’t see how this could be difficult but any and all attempts to teach Peter how to recreate my masterpiece always ended up in an absolute mess. I turned around to ask Bucky if he wanted any. The look of a man starved answered all my questions.

“You’re a goddess,” Peter moaned around his mouthful, nose smudged white with the powdered sugar.

“Gross, chew first then talk, you neanderthal,” I scoffed, prepping more batter for the second batch of pancakes. I wasn’t sure if everybody would show up but figured it would be rude to exclude them from the sheer magnificence that were my pancakes. I was just that good.

The music in my ear drowned most of Peter’s disgusting chewing noises, thankfully. My second batch vanished into thin air, inhaled by the two males like the garbage disposals that they were. Peter, in particular, ate an alarming quantity of food and I was surprised how he managed to stay so skinny. His daily eating schedule resembled the Hobbits.

More people appeared, this time acting less surprised regarding me standing at the stove. Hawkeye, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch and her brother, all of them wandered in wearing sleep attire with various amusing prints. Thankfully, they mostly kept quiet or chatted with Peter - I would have definitely grumbled if someone tried to talk to me. As far as my body was concerned it was still the middle of the night.

“PANCAKES,” A booming voice announced and I shuddered at the sheer intensity and devotion contained in that one word. Thor.

“Please use your indoor voice,” I snapped reflectively. My brain caught up with what I just did so I hastily backtracked. “Sorry, I’m a bitch in the mornings.”

The blonde man chuckled, coming over to poke his nose into my flurry of pour-flip-fill sequence. Then, with all the grace and manners of a prince, he dipped one (1) large finger into the jar of Nutella and wandered off with it stuck in his mouth. With this turn of events the Nutella was bound to run out sooner than expected.

I turned around, annoyed confusion in plain sight. “The fuck?.. That’s gross, don’t do that,” Finding his brother (adopted!) sitting next to Thor, wearing a haughty smirk, finger still in his mouth. So Loki turned into his brother to steal Nutella from a jar. I sighed. Nobody even batted an eye. “Your alien germs are in there now, double ew.”

“Alien germs? Where?” Bruce entered the kitchen with a tablet under his arm, wearing Hulk themed pajamas, Captain America in tow. I was honestly on the verge of breaking down into hysterical laughter. Domestic Avengers wasn’t something I’d expected to see or experience, ever, much less be a part of. It took a moment for me to remind myself that they were people, too, and each of them was entitled to their own quirks.

“America, egg-splain,” Peter muttered under his breath, giggling. “Loki stuck his hand in the Nutella jar,” He pointed at said jar. “She got grumpy,” Peter pointed at me. “Don’t make her grumpy, please, I want more pancakes,” And turned his pleading puppy eyes in my direction again.

“This is indentured servitude,” I pointed my spatula at the little shit. “You just had, like, ten.” But I made more batter nonetheless. I must admit it was kind of cool, seeing the earth’s mightiest defenders so relaxed. And Pete being happy, that was just… The best. I don’t know how to explain it. His eternal cheerfulness was highly contagious.

Chuckles filled up the room, the adults chatting and bickering amongst themselves while they patiently waited for their own breakfast.

“Do you need some help?” Bruce approached me after stopping to fetch himself a cup of tea. It smelled strongly of tangy herbs and honey.

“I need more Nutella and bananas,” I admitted, surveying the sheer amount of people I had to feed. I didn’t doubt the Captain and two Asgardians had an appetite to match Peter’s which meant a literal extra set of condiments was required. Thankfully, Bruce fetched them for me, coming to a stop next to me. “Anything else?”

“You know, I tried making these with Peter and he just ended up with powdered sugar and chocolate all over himself,” I mused, noting the way Banner was carefully observing the assembly of a pancake. “You think Doctor seven-phds can manage to add a few toppings to a pancake without causing a disaster?“

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, bumping me with his hip. "I’m no Clint Barton when it comes to cooking but at least I don’t burn my toast like Steve,” True to his word, his hands made swift motions of filling, wrapping and plating each individual pancake. They were almost as good as mine albeit more messy. I had lots of practice though. We finished off a batch in companionable silence, sounds of the team and my music playing in the background.

I didn’t notice when I started swaying to the rhythm, catching a confused look from Bruce. I brushed back my hair, revealing a wireless headphone in my ear and he chuckled in understanding. “What are you listening to?”

“Right now? Kings of Leon,” I said, leaning towards him so he could hear the chorus “Use Somebody” currently occupying my right ear.

“I like them, too,” He said, his cheek gently touching mine. His hands slowed on the pancake, a soft hum vaguely reminding me of the song’s melody emanating from his throat. “What else do you usually listen to?”

“Mostly heavier stuff, but I have a whole separate playlist dedicated to mid-2000s bops,” I answered. “I’ve heard I’m quite old school when it comes to music.”

“Well, I am an old man, so…” Bruce grinned mischievously. “But my guilty pleasure is Lady Gaga,” He admitted with a laugh.

I laughed, too. The image of his dancing in his lab to Born This Way was too much for my brain and I hung my head, fighting giggles. Bruce bumped me with his hip again, faking a pout. “Okay, okay, that was a fucking hilarious image, you go dude,” I finally powered through my struggle to contain laughter. “My own guilty pleasure would be… Umm… Lana Del Rey, I guess.”

Bruce made a vague noise of confusion. I took a brief break from mixing the batter to dig out my second headphone, presenting it to him and switching to a song. “This is what makes us girls”. Despite the fact I have never stolen a car or had a close female friend, the nostalgia was real. “Carmen” followed after the first song and I silently thanked whatever deity that “You can be the boss” was taken out of Spotify - I don’t think I was prepared to share that kind of information with a lab partner. An older, handsome lab partner. Wait… Where did that come from?

“I like it,” He said after the song ended and my more usual stuff began playing. “It suits you, I think.”

I groaned. “Really? I think it’s edgy,” Hiding away the embarrassment, I passed him a tray of freshly baked pancakes, occupying his immediate attention.

“You’re an old soul,” He gave me a lopsided smile. I saw a very faint blush tinting his cheeks, the kind of blush that had me wondering about the meaning behind his words.

I gave an attempt at a smile in response, the left corner of my mouth barely tilting up. We talked some more about the rock music we shared in our earphones. I had a lot of 80s hair metal and 90s grunge in my playlist. Bruce was not a Curt Cobain man but enjoyed the works of his legacy, Marcy Playground.

A tan hand wormed its way between me and Bruce, snatching a handful of banana slices and disappeared just as swiftly. “Tonyyy,” Bruce groaned, picking up another banana to replace the stolen pieces.

The spatula in my hand became a weapon as I blindly aimed at the target behind my back. A loud “ow” indicated I hit it. When I turned around, Tony was clutching the side of his face, a hurt look in his eyes and cheeks stuffed full of stolen goods. I stared him square in the face, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was shirtless - the arc reactor glowed brightly in the middle of his toned chest. Fuck.

His chest was honestly what I was aiming for. I constantly kept forgetting how short he actually was. There was this one time when Tony had to put his arms around me to steady a piece of tech - he felt huge, hard and enormous around me.

“What’s that for, Princess?” He finally chewed through his food and found his voice.

“For being a Tony,” I retorted. “Stay away from my workspace and wait for your breakfast like everybody else.”

“Hey! This is my kitchen,” He whined immediately, like the adult man that he was. I nearly cried from how adorable his face became, eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t want to wait! And why does he,” Tony’s finger accusingly pointed at Bruce, “Get the bananas?!”

“Because he’s Brucie-bear,” I stuck my nose up in the air when Bruce’s arm wrapped around my waist. “He’s my science father,” I stuck my tongue out at Tony, seeing Bruce’s triumphant smile. Banner used every opportunity to get back at Tony’s incessant sass.

The gleaming in Tony’s eyes should have alarmed me. “But he’s not your science daddy,” Tony’s flirting was accompanied by a salacious eyebrow wiggle and Peter’s screech of “OH MY GOD!"

It took me every ounce of willpower to not flush. It was one of those rare times that I was at a complete loss of words. Thinking on the spot, I gave a very meaningful look to Bruce - thankfully, he got the gist and returned an equally filthy smirk back. Tony gaped.

"Is this how they are in the lab?” The Captain’s quiet voice leaked horrified amusement.

“All.The.Time.” Peter’s resonating groan was followed by Romanoff’s laughter.

We went up to the lab after breakfast. Thankfully Tony stopped his dramatic bitching when I served him my pancakes, scarfing them down much like everybody else. So me and Pete were accompanied by one (1) happy engineer, all three of us tinkering away on a robot that we were supposed to present in our science class in a month. The focus that was required to solder was immense and our usual banter was missing, replaced by an occasional request for a specific tool or a water bottle.

It took a few hours to get the dirty job done even with Tony’s help (technically he wasn’t supposed to but neither me nor Pete had the heart to forbid him from it when the man looked so content and happy soldering away). By the time I uncurled from my spot on the bench, my back was in knots and my dress had oil stains and holes all over it. I immediately went to the nearest water bottle, finishing half of it in seconds, picking up my phone to see if I had any important messages from my mother.

None.

Just a message from Bruce.

I tapped on my phone, idly scrolling through the Instagram app, liking some pictures of people I barely knew and keeping up a general appearance of being very busy. When the ringtone started playing, it took me a whole five seconds to understand it was, in fact, coming from my phone - I certainly wouldn’t put something so… Outrageous as my main tone.

Banner had discovered the power of the internet. You Can Be The Boss played loudly, and it played from my phone and Bruce was calling me. I picked it up, turning around, fighting the incoming laughter. “Yes, Brucie?"

To say that Tony’s and Peter’s faces were scandalised was nothing. The boy’s face was such a deep shade of red, I started worrying about his blood pressure and Tony’s mouth hung open limply, like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ.

"Is Tony sufficiently traumatized?” Judging by the breathless tone of his voice, Banner was resisting a mighty laughing fit of his own.

“Oh, absolutely,” I happily chirped.

“Good, keep it up. Come to my lab before you leave,” Banner snorted and then, realising what he’d done, promptly hung up, the tell-tale beginning of a giggle fit abruptly interrupted by a dial tone.

I put the phone in my bag, gathering the rest of my things with a look somewhere between innocence and indifference. At least, I hoped it was - my mind kept jumping between the engineer’s ridiculously scandalised face and the way his mouth went slack, lips moist and soft and plush. That’s a very dangerous trail.

A very dangerous trail I couldn’t resist exploring in the solitude and privacy of my own bedroom, at home.

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years ago

Text

Before Dawn ~ Pt2~

Hii!! This is part two of my new series. I hope every one of you like it, I'll be tagging the story with it's title so it's easier to find.

Warnings: mentions of attempted murder

@wakatosji I figured I should tag you but if you don't want me to tag you its alright, I don't want to be annoying ❤️

Comfort tea

"Ew?" First goes Lynne. Her face is contorted with a puzzled expression as she lifts her eyebrow to Petra's sudden requiry.

"Well, yeah, kinda" Nanaba shoots a glare to Nifa, as if judging her for her choice of words before she simply brushes the question with waving her hand. Seconding that, as if she knows what you were about to say a few moments before she sets her blue set of eyes on you. A gulp finds its way down your throat as her cold gaze pierces through your body and it's not long until you get the message. The girls' voices echo through your head as if you're listening from afar for you're drunk in your own thoughts.

For instant, you hate the fact that the first time you try to willing open up about a new feeling, you're overshadowed. The urgent need to spill your guts on the subject becomes more prominent by every single minute passing and yet you force yourself to keep it in. You're not about to physically burst your guts like a corpse under the hot summertime sun because of your emotions, so you should be fine if you collect your impatient self.

"Shut up Petra, I'm serious." A playful chuckle leaves Lynne's mouth.

Maybe, it's the fact that Nanaba knows you too well that lifts some weight off of you for now when at the same time she's stopping you from saying something you'll regret. And thus, you bite your lip and reluctantly decide to ignore the throbbing of your own thoughts.

"He handpicked me for his squad!"

:readmore:

Oddly enough you don't feel any jealousy creeping in your system by hearing Petra's words thanks to Nanaba putting you in your place. Even though, you're sadly reminisced of various scenes of your past where you've been in this very position after your mother has barked at you to stay in place you utter not a single word. Your head almost always automatically goes blank so you're not taken aback by your lack of reaction. Whatever Petra says you're sure going to overthink later, when sleep won't be willing to take you for the night.

"Captain really needs someone else in his squad right? Everyone has five members and he has four. (Y/n) why are you even in Mike's team, you could fill this blank right?"

"It's a special operations squad Nifa you dummy! He handpicked everyone!" Petra's adorable bunny smile is directed towards Nifa this time who gives her a cute puckered smirk of approval in return. It's almost too precious of an interaction for you to miss.

"Mike handpicked (y/n), right after me." Nanaba's voice bores casually into conversation while she takes her eyes away from her plate and lands them onto you. "So, what were you about to say?"

"Uhm" Your mind trails back to today's most random event "Henning imitated Tomas after I said good morning and scream 'nice tits (y/n)'. I totally gave him the finger." This simple choice of words helps avoid any unnecessary drama in your girls group. At least you had some dignity not to throw hands over a man anyways.

_____

"Hange stop squishing my cheeks, I can't sit with the higher ups."

"But you did last week!"

"You dragged me!"

Hange's response is only a silent hmf followed by her ever so memorable toothy mischievous grin. She begins taking steps towards you that only increase as one foot follows the other. Despite not being in a playful mood, you decide that running seems to be the best thing to do in the moment to get yourself away from her. If she catches you, she's dragging you with her once again.

Your heart is erratically pounding in your chest as you sprint down the many hallways of the headquarters, out of breath and dizzied by hunger. You reluctantly pause for a second to catch your breath amidst waiting for the inevitable to happen. Devil sure works hard but Hange and her determination work harder, you're reminded of that everyday, you tell yourself, not only when her hand lands onto your shoulder. You mentally punch yourself in the throat for not keeping your body in a better shape.

"I am not letting you starve again, let's go!"

All while during dinner you converse with Mike and Erwin on shortage of hygienic and sanitary products, something that concerns the commander excessively. Soldiers' access to basic necessities is always a top priority in the Scouting Region and commanders are to always tend to their needs. Erwin is and should be no different.

Levi seems to have his mind in your conversation and ignores Hange entirely while she's speaking some Titan nonsense to him. His eyes often widen when Erwin expresses concern on lack of soap and talks about his predictions on its practical annihilation, but it's only what you utter next that grabs his attention enough for him to turn his head in your direction.

"We can make soap. We don't have to keep putting orders for it to be made. I was taught to make soap at home and I'm sure many other girls know."

Silence spreads fast as if a traveling shadow on sunset on the table after you speak. Erwin's batting his eyes in yours, Mike too and Levi looks at you with that usual unamused expression of his. How come they had never thought about that?

Well probably because it wasn't always that there was such shortage in almost fucking everything.

"My office after dinner, cadet." Levi speaks, breaking the silence with his stern sounding voice. "There's something I need to discuss with you."

"Yes sir!" You reply in a heartbeat with a small bow of your head.

Not long after, the distinguishable tone of the curfew bell fills the air, making most soldiers get up from their seats instantly. Levi sits still in his spot as his fellow higher ups bid him with farewells and goodnights to which he replies with casual, nonchalant hums. Upon seeing most of the plebe has left he orders you to stand up and follow him.

He can't help but take a few vague looks of you with the corner of his left eye and he wonders if you do the same from time to time as you march behind him. It doesn't take long for the two of you to reach his quarters, but when you do he takes a stand to unlock the door before proceeding to let you in, him following asuit behind you.

"Here have a seat." He offers unsure of where to point to except for the dark colored loveseat near his desk. "I wanted to know how you even took the knife out of my hands." He watches as your facial expression turns into something along the lines of an almost undetectable disgust and sorrow, your brows forrow and your lips pucker. You couldn't hide it even if you wanted to and maybe the fact that he provoked such reaction from you bit suddenly on his gut and kept chewing on it.

"Just because you were a thug, doesn't mean you're the only one who gets to handle a knife you know." You finally answer, scratching and scrunching your nose in uneasiness. Almost mechanically, the next question comes out of his mouth without remorse.

"Oi what does a brat like you want to do with a knife. You don't strike me as the thug type. You're too uptight for that." A few moments later his gut is going to make him regret ever asking you in the first place.

"Uptight? Ugh, why would you even care, I bet your mother didn't try to murder you in your sleep or with any chance she could."

He grits his teeth inside his mouth and immediately closes his eyes in horror. That horrible feeling of his gut being chewed forms into bits and pieces of wild inner comburst within his organs. Though he cannot phantom what you have been through, he is able of making vivid potential images in his mind that will probably contribute to another sleepless night.

He turns to face you in hopes of being able to mouth anything that could cut through the uneasy tension he's created but at the sight of you he's overthrown. That heart breaking sob that leaves your lips, those thick streams of tears down your cheeks, he won't make it if he keeps looking at you in this condition, all he wants to do is scream, for he's witnessed enough cruelty and damage in this world and it seems that it's never enough. Human bloodlust is never enough.

"I'm s-sorry. I just. Why did I say that?" You faintly utter with uncertainty masking your shaky voice.

"It's fine, as long as you get over it." He definitely despises himself because of that line because in the name of heaven and hell how do you simply ask someone to get over such trauma without sounding like an entitled asshole. The motions that his eyes catch in the dim light of his office are skinny, hard but fragile at the same time and they all hint to you wanting to leave, presumably due to the lack of consolation on his part. He just determined he'll do better. You helped Isabel back on the day so he lets you this one.

"I-I'll excu-"

"Do you have any prefered beverages?"

"M-milk tea" you quietly huff. He's not quite sure whether a drink will ease your boiling pain, but at least he's hoping it'll soothe your current state.

His heart is officially aching with agony and pain that refuses to mellow even a notch, even if he begs to any profoundly selfclaimed wall God. Ever since a year ago he's been living within the heart of crime and downgrade garbage, respected for his violent ways and easily feared for his inhuman skills. In that dirty, shit smelling drain, overpopulated with humans or rats -or probably both, he can't possible distinguish them- who piss in any corner they find, he thought he'd seen any gruesome thing a man can do, but that rough melancholy in your eyes convinces him he's so casually wrong.

"I apologise for bringing such subject up, (y/n), here's your tea. Though due to shortages we don't have any milk." You matter him a word of gratitude as he sets the cup next to you. He'll never let you know, but he notices you're surprised by his actions even in that state you're in.

"She's dead. My mother. She died last month and-" you trail off your words "I guess it's more of me being emotionally chained to my abuser." Levi just pops his head in his palms and sighs deeply at the sound of that but never comes to find the right line up his textureless thoughts should take for him to form a sentence.

"Kinda looks like piss don't you think?"

"Huh?" If he could hear your words correctly and not partially because of the turbulence in his mind he would have thought of an instant smart come back.

"The tea, it looks like piss." At the sound, he barely manages to hold in a chuckle.

He knows yet he manages to only scoff in response. "I had to tremendously water it down, be mindful." He opts to suggest always in that bland tone of his.

"Do other people except from us drink it like that?"

"I desperately want to doubt that anyone cares to provide for your golden shower enthusiasm, so no. This is some of my personal stash."

The two of you enjoy your comfort tea in sheer silence. Levi can't take his eyes off of you, not that he's trying to, but he tries to convince himself it's only because you've verbally shared your trauma with him. In return, for some of his, he didn't have to share, you were there to see Isabel's head laying on the blood stained grass with Farlans upper body accompanying it. He wants to speak up, but his mouth is seldomly never in a place to voice out the exact thoughts in his head, so even if he tells you about Kenny and his childhood you never get to hear it. In addition, he's not the one to try and overshadow somebody who speaks about themselves by sharing his experience so the comfortable silence that has sprawled in the whole of his office is more than enough.

______

Here's the deal. Henning likes Lynne, Lynne likes Tomas, Tomas likes you and you like Captain Levi, not that hard to grasp right? As long as no one neglects their soldier duties everything is fine.

It's a plain sunny Sunday in the Survey Corps headquarters. Mike is on a day out, perhaps strolling around the city of Trost in chance of finding any merchant to provide for soldiers necessities, while you're assigned with cleaning his office.

Levi is standing at the doorframe, back pressed upon it with his hands crossed over his chest as he supervises the six of you go. He promised the blond squad leader to keep an eye on his team seeing that things would get heated up pretty easily nowadays, ending up in heated arguments most of the time as well.

Every time his eyes meet yours you avert your gaze away, specifically to the floor you're set on scrubbing until your hands bleed. He can't help but notice it. Small little movements of awkwardness from his part make you tense even if you're oblivious to his awareness of the fact.

"Tch" He tries his best to shake you off the territory you're occupying in his mind. It's not right for him to endulge in something frowned upon after having just received a position as a high rank. That's not his purpose here. Emotions should never color your judgement in battlefield.

"I'm taking a break." You call to the others as you stand from your kneeling position. You pat your hands dry on the sides of your hips and you hope Levi doesn't notice, because you won't see the end of this.

"I'm coming with you! Wait for me." Tomas announces and you respond a soft 'sure' along with a warm smile. "Ah God, I'm so thirsty!" The two of you walk past Levi at the door, but you never spare him a look, in fact you're too invested in your small talk with Tomas to even ask for permission to excuse yourselves.

"Love birds, huh Nanaba?" Gelgar elbows the blonde with puckered his lips, a ridiculous expression plastered on his face. "I wonder how long until we get the good news-"

"Gelgar just shut up."

"What Lynne? Poor Tomas might finally get his chance with the kid."

Lynne loves you and your group of friends deeply. She and Nanaba are probably the big sisters of the group. They've stuck with you, Nifa and Petra through thick and thin, through bloodshed and tragedy, so she's not mad at you for having caught Tomas' attention. With your melancholic youthful face, (h/c) hair that blows softly in the wind, with the way you pucker your lips when you're determined or angry. She's probably mad at herself for never acting on that cadet trainee crush she had on Tomas. She sets her mind on recovering quickly from it.

Despite opening her mouth to speak, she notices it's not her voice that's heard, but in fact it's a deeper, almost nasal one.

"Set to work, tch, don't waste your energy on royal teenage drama."

"Sir! Yessir!"

Irritated, Levi bites the inside of his cheek, without ever changing the look in his eyes. You were kind and behaved well mannered to everyone, that was all. That was was led you to act nice to Isabel and what led her to speak highly of you to him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"It's alright! Get up" with your eyes shut, you smile at the redhead who's sprawled across the grass while holding out your hand to her. Isabel smiles back and she proceeds to take your hand, taking another chance to spare with you again.

For a few nights she won't shut up about you. How you don't look down on her like other girls do, how you iron her clothes just like her big bro does.

"I'm going to miss her when were free of here, Farlan!" The red head takes a bite of her bread and munches softly on it. Before she even has a chance to speak another word she feels a hand ruffle her hair but notices that Levi's hands are concentrated on the simple task of feeding food in his mouth. She spares you a heart warming smile and wave but you fail to reciprocate as your friends gesture you to sit.

"You're gonna make me miss her too and I don't even know her." Farlan says and places a hand at the top of his head, scratching a soft spot.

"Ahh, big bro! Can we kidnap her!"

"We're not kidnapping anyone. We need to focus on our mission alright Isabel?"

Isabel shushes at this but doesn't fail to shoot you a glare. And this time you respond with a wave. Whatever you lack in word choosing skills you make up for kind acts. She wishes they kidnap you, she needs a female friend anyways.

Hey you there, yes you, thanks for taking time and reading this, I appreciate it more than I can express. If you want to see me write something for you make sure to leave a request in my askbox! Any comments on how you're enjoying the story are also very appreciated. Much love until next time 💕

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theangryjikooker · 3 years ago

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"so dont read my blog" SO stop tagging jikook in that shit nobody even cares about your damn rant do it only for yourself idc if ppl believe they're real or not i just want to see their moments here and not your fucking shit rant ur hoe

Hmm, nah. If I can't state my opinion on Twitter and have to do so here, I will. I can tag Jikook if I want to when I'm actually talking about them because surprise, that’s how tags work. The onus is on you to ignore it. YOU get mad because I don't agree with them dating but have not said one thing bad about them. YOU don't like it because I'm calling toxic Jkkrs like you out for being batshit insane and trying (and failing) to run me off here as well. Your entitlement to Jikook is so gross. Check yourself: you're being verbally abusive towards and harassing someone you don't know on the basis that they don't agree with you and YOU think you're a fan? No, no, sweetheart: you're the kind of "fan" who doesn't look at the boys like human beings, they're just your toys. If someone doesn't agree with your belief that they're dating, and you're offended by it, then it’s just a fantasy to you. Full stop. LMAO. Get fucked. With love, preferably, because it sounds like you need some of that in your life. 😊

BTW, the fact that my initial response to you didn’t even use the Jikook tag but you’re back here all worked up means you’re camping/stalking me. 😂The lack of self-awareness toxic Jkkrs have is indescribable.

If this is the kind of Jkkr you want to support in your midst and approve of the way this type of Jkkr infiltrates blogs they disagree with, you have bigger problems than whether or not Jikook is real. Seriously, ew.

#TAJ asks #toxic jikookers can gtfo #TAJ is amused #jikookers #kookminers

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aclosetfan · 4 years ago

Note

For the Salty asks: 1, 3, 5 and 6?

Thanks so much for playing along! Ima be real with you 2 out of the 4 questions you asked really opened up a can of worms for me, and I’m so sorry. I put the less stressful ones first, and the other two are under the cut! Anyway, these were super fun to answer, but plz don’t hate me for it!! 😂😂

for anyone wondering, here’s the ask list: Salty Asks List

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

lmao yeah. It’s petty, but honestly, people’s personal morals really bleed through into their fandom opinions, and I’m not willing to put up with any unnecessary hate, especially in environments that are supposed to be fun. I’ve even blocked a few people. In the ppg fandom specifically, I’ve blocked a person who, I guess, thought it was necessary to try to gate-keep with racist/sexist/etc. terminology and ideologies, and I truly don’t have time for that 🤷‍♀️ (a lot of people probs know who I’m vaguing, but if you don’t, you’re lucky)

I can’t say I’ve ever unfollowed anyone for any innocent/not-in-conflict-with-my-morals fandom opinions. Usually, if I don’t agree with something, I just keep scrolling because lol whatever. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.

but ngl I have unfollowed people who just get annoying 😬😬 lol

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

I went into this fandom without having too many preferences, so I didn’t have a pairing that I’ve previously hated!

I guess I could say that while I never really hated them, the color-mixing and color-clashing ships weren’t ever on my radar until I came across the fandom content. Now, I really like them! Particularly, Brick and Bubbles!

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

Before anyone gets pissed off at me, before you get into my answer for this question, I’d like to really stress that you’ve got to go into it with absolutely zero fanon context. Like, erase all your headcanons from your mind. I’m dead serious. Because I literally DO NOT get why ANY rrbxppg ship would realistically work ever.

Okay, canonically, these six little funky science experiments were dead set on ending each other. The boys were absolutely horrible to the girls. And the girls literally KILL the boys. I know in fairytale romances, nothing stops love, but bruh, it’s hard to come back from murder 😂 And yeah, I know Clipsville showed the girls and the boys together as older teenagers, and they weren’t trying to kill each other, but that was an obvious gag. In the documentary, it was revealed that that particular “clip” was made because a bunch of people wanted the boys and girls to interact again, and CN gave into the demand. (also, lol I know it super embarrassing, but I did watch the documentary. I just really like Craig McCracken) I just don’t think that realistically a canon pairing between the two sets of triplets would ever be considered a healthy relationship.

Also, ethically, I just—okay listen, I go back and forth with this allllll the time, but the ppgxrrb ships make me confront the “Would I sleep with my clone?” question way too often. Depending on my self-esteem, the answer changes each time. Like sometimes I’m like fuck yeah I would! Other times I’m like, ew, no, I’d have to consider my clone as a twin! I know counterparts aren’t technically clones, BUT the boys really do come across as identical to the girls in the show. The only difference really is their moral alignment (I’m nixing any gender argument). So, I’m like, omg, can I honestly pair these six together in any way??? Are they too close to each other genetically in some sense for this to be morally right??? Like if you ship Brick and Buttercup together, would that just essentially be shipping Brick and Butch/Blossom and Buttercup together in some messed up way??? Is Brick just Blossom, and Blossom just Brick?? Is it better just to ship color-matching instead of mixing???

On top of all of that, wouldn’t the boys and girls be pseudo cousins since Mojo was the Professor’s lab monkey? Technically, in canon, Mojo ends up being both sets of triplets “creator,” so could the rrb and the ppg be considered siblings of some sort? Some of you are probably like, wow, calm down. Stop thinking about it. They’re science experiments. It’s not so deep. Which I get, but I can’t stop, so let me hit you with something ten times worse: should the girls (or the boys) actually be considered biological siblings? Does sugar, spice, and everything nice make you genetically related? Nothing put in the stirring pot was organic—just a bunch of chemicals. If you ship the boys and girls together this could be a good thing! BUT, but, could some sick fuck use this information to somehow justify shipping siblings (ppgxppg or rrbxrrb) together??? This is a literal nightmare to think about!!

All in all, I can’t think about these pairings too much without getting caught up in the logistics of their existence even if they’re fictional lmaoooo! If it wasn’t for the fandom, I wouldn’t ship them together at all. I just think it’s amazing that the ships took off like they did lol, because their literal (fictional) existence is just one giant mind fuck for me. Anyway, I ship them at the end of the day, but tbh I do it with a bit of a guilty conscience. Is it morally correct to ship clone-like counterparts? Or should counterparts be treated like twins? Does it even fucking matter at the end of the day, it’s just fiction? I don’t know the right answer. But I do know the pairings don’t make sense.

Aside from the ppgxrrb, I don’t think there are many other BIG fandom wide pairings. Still, I just want to say that I don’t get why people ship Ace and Buttercup together. The pairing sounds off a few major alarms in my head for obvious reasons. There’s also a bunch of crack ships that involve crossovers with other cartoons. Generally, I don’t mind them, but it seems popular to ship Aku (from Samurai Jack) and Blossom together. And I’m real sorry to those devoted shippers, but again I do NOT get it. I see a lot of romantic fan art depicting romantic situations with Blossom still drawn as a child, and like I get Aku is an immortal demon, so “age is just a number,” but again, BIG ALARMS go off in my head.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

🙃 🙃 Kind of don’t want to answer this, but I will anyway because only a few people actually read my blog lolol, so lol, yep! And it’s the reds. Don’t shoot me lol. When I was in middle school, I got into this fandom, forgot about it, and then came back when I was hit by a round of nostalgia. I’m finishing up college now, and I can confidentially say that the fanon content for the reds hasn’t changed one bit. Or the demand for it.

I tended to find that a lot of red content follows many archetypes that I’m just not into. Their stories can get a real cringey, real fast. Blossom is always written like this “perfect, except she’s not (but she really is)” character. Like she’s the girl you WISH you could be, but she’s also going through a shit ton of stuff that no person IRL would be able to handle without having a mental breakdown. And sometimes, in some stories, Blossom does have a mental breakdown, but in a sexy way, so she’s still perfect. Generally, there’s still something problematic about Blossom that makes it easy for a reader to relate to her on some level, unlike the way people write Bubbles. And then there’s Brick, who’s broody, hyper-possessive or jealous, and hot figuratively and literally (gotta love the fire/ice trope). He’s the only boy—no! Wait!—the only person who could ever possibly outwit Blossom, and he is just so undeniably attracted to Blossom. They’re the smart power couple that should honestly just hook-up in Chapter One to save everybody time, but they don’t. Nah, they’ve got to survive at least two love triangles before they even consider admitting they’re attracted to each other.

And don’t get me wrong, none of that’s bad, but there are a million fanfics that go through the same song and dance with these two. And it’s kind of easy to tell when someone’s hardcore projecting onto Blossom because the type of person they’re personally attracted to is the way they write Brick. And I’m not knocking anyone self-projecting onto characters, sometimes people got to do that to give themselves a fun mental break, but bro, I don’t want to read about it. For one, smart broody assholes aren’t my type. Maybe when I was in middle school, but not anymore. And two, it’s just not interesting to me, which is a real shame since the reds are a majority of the fanon content.

Maybe if I found more red stories where the plot isn’t character-driven but plot-driven, so I see the romance between these two characters in a context where it’s not the main focus of the story, it would solve my issue with the pairing. I haven’t found many fics like that, though.

I can’t really think of any reds fic where I’m like ey, this aint bad unless it has a “major character death” tag attached to it lmao (which are always plot driven stories). However, in all honesty, since I’ve stayed away from red content for a while now, I don’t know the current state of things. Maybe there’s been a load more development for these two, or people have broken away from the same plotlines, but I’m too busy to check. I do browse people’s fic rec lists from time to time, but it sort of feels like everyone just puts the same fics on their lists and moves on.

And before someone’s like, “well, you can say all this about the greens or the blues,” just know I’m fully aware. The greens make me cringe too because there’s a shit ton of possessive and abusive storylines filling their story tags. And what makes me super uncomfortable is how people make Buttercup hit Butch or call him derogatory names, oftentimes unprompted. I don’t know why people make Buttercup such an unlikeable and overly aggressive person. I also don’t get why they make Butch some perverted idiot, but to each their own, I guess? Still, I see these green-character patterns most often in red-focused stories, which is another reason why I avoid them. I’ve found a lot of green-focused content that strays from the abusive tropes I try to avoid. Considerably less than I’d like, but the greens are typically the b-plot pairing, so that’s to be expected. Personally, I’d really like to see more content with the greens finding some kind of inner peace, and recently, I’ve seen a few fics that have tried to tackle this concept.

And lol, if you’ve read some of my posts before, you already know that I think the blues are an underdeveloped fanon pairing. The fandom can’t ruin that pairing for me because it never does anything substantial with it.

Anyway, at the end of the day, I’m just personally not into the way the reds are popularly written, but I get why people are and that’s good with me.

#salty ask game #lisathefan #an ethical debate in MY ppg post??? It's more likely then you think!#long post #ppg pairings #and all my issues with them #also im a firm believer in the block button being your friend!

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officialkendallroy · 4 years ago

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wait what camille do??? i don’t think it’s common knowledge since she’s not all that famous i never even see her modeling stuff i’ve only heard of her bc if harry so idk anything about her

she's super into serial killers, especially charles manson. like ... ew. she dressed up as sharon tate for halloween, who was murdered by manson and she just glorifies the whole serial killer thing like??? girlie pls chile ... like wanting to be a manson girl ain't cute and quirky ✨ it's fucked up.

she said the n word and never apologized for it just said that it's an american thing ??? GURL AREN'T YOU FRENCH........................

there's a video of several victoria secret models singing bodak yellow and saying the n word, her amongst all of them of course. and she justified that kinda of behaviour with "if it's in the song it's okay to sing 😙" HUH??????????????

she mocked and made fun of the lgbtq+ community like ... SJDHDJSHSJ SHUT UP

she made fun of harry's fans like djdhjddj ppl only pay attention to u just bc you "dated" the man stfu up you stupid cunt

there's a video of her moaning harrys name or some shit it's 🤢🤢🤢 childish behaviour ngl

that's just some of the things she's done. personally i just can't fucking stand her bc she's an entitled cunt who comes from a rich family and got everything she's ever done presented on a silver platter and never had to really work for it since her family had the connections already. shes just another white skinny model thinking she's doing something ✨ girl is really giving us nothing. to me she isn't a good model. she's average at best but her awful fucking personality and her ignorance, childishness and idiocy destroy it. also the whole thing with her being french like shut up .... she's so pretentious and sounds like a fucking white american girlie from the suburbs but when vogue calls she's like OH OUI OUI J'APPELLE CAMILLE 😋

#asks #anon #FUCK HER SHES SO ANNOYING

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pug-bitch · 5 years ago

Text

That’s not why I’m staying (6)

The quicker pace of his heart

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez (and....maybe another pairing? 😇 🤫)

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a VERY steamy scene. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 4,500

Notes: This picks up much where we left off, during the first evening at the cabin, as Leo arrives, starting with Leo’s POV.

*****

‘Come on in,’ Drake says enthusiastically, which Leo instantly reads as fake. Drake grabs the whiskey bottle from him and sets it down on the table. ‘Make yourself at home, Leo, we were just about to have some cocktails. You hungry?’

Leo shakes his head and then smells the delicious aroma of steak. ‘Um, maybe? What you got?’

Drake smiles, ‘Steak. I have a leftover one, the ladies shared a steak. Can I make you a plate?’

Leo smiles broadly. ‘Sure, thank you, that sounds great.’

He walks into the cabin and nods. He hasn’t seen it in years, not since they were in their early twenties and came here for the occasional guys’ night grilling and drinking beer. Tonight, the vibe is different. First, there are ladies present, which he’s definitely not complaining about, but also, Drake is different. But how, Leo can’t exactly put his finger on it.

‘Good to see you, Leo,’ Amara says as she greets him with a smile and a glass. ‘I’m making whiskey sours, want one?’

He nods and inches closer to her. ‘What did I do to deserve being greeted by such an enchanting woman, AND cocktails?’

Amara chuckles. ‘Don’t get too excited. It’s whiskey and sour mix.’

God, she’s snarky. But hot. He could get behind that, but something tells him she’s not interested. Perhaps even not available. Now it’s his mission to find out more.

The petite Asian woman takes a glass from Amara. He forgets her name. Anna? Ella? Oh well. She is hot as hell, in a shy kind of way, but according to Liam, she plays for the other team. Too bad.

‘Oh, Drake, can I use your bathroom really quickly? It was a long drive from the Capital, and I had a fucking truckload of coffee.’

Drake yells out from the kitchen. ‘Um, yeah, it’s upstairs. Straight ahead.’

Leo scans the room one more time before heading upstairs. Everyone is super silent, even Maxwell, who is usually chattier than a little girl. Clearly, his presence is unwanted.

Upstairs, he heads to the bathroom right away, looks around a bit. Some toiletry bags. These guys are staying overnight for sure. After pretending to flush, he peeks into the three rooms. He doesn’t have time for much more, but he sees that Drake’s is clearly bare, no luggage in sight. He frowns. He could have sworn there was something between him and Amara. That look on his face during the Decision Ball, those fucking tears… Maybe it was just concern for a friend, but Drake doesn’t make friends that quickly.

As he walks down the stairs, he thinks about how unfair it all is for his little brother. Stuck in a loveless engagement, with very little support, while all his so-called friends are partying together in a commoner family’s cabin. Liam plays strong, he tells him that Drake still supports him and talking to him helped, but Leo knows better. He left his little brother in what he thought were good hands, and now he comes back to a shitshow. That’s not right.

*****

‘What do you mean a bar fight?’ Leo asks incredulously.

Amara rolls her eyes. ‘Come on, Max, that’s a gross exaggeration. An asshole insulted Hana, Liv, and I, and Michael was very chivalrous and punched a guy for us.’

‘Michael, you mean...you?’ Leo points at Michael who bursts out laughing.

They had been chatting for a couple of hours, and everyone had relaxed a bit, which Amara was grateful for. She had taken care of the evidence upstairs, and she suspects that Leo isn’t bright enough to dig any deeper than the surface anyways. He showed his cards pretty clearly when he pretended to need the bathroom as soon as he arrived, and it had eased her mind a bit. Even though, of course, it means that he was here to dig dirt indeed. Is he sent by Liam? Probably not. Given the grief he had given Drake at the Ball, about his supposed debt to Liam, he was probably here in an ill-concealed attempt to protect his brother.

She gets that, of course. But his protectiveness would have a lot more impact if the current situation wasn’t directly caused by his actions. After all, he was the OG Madeleine fiancé, and his abdication resulted in Liam’s increased responsibility.

Still, she feels badly for Liam, and she still intends to help him break his engagement. If only they could find Tariq quickly enough…

‘So, Amara, I heard that you won’t talk to the press?’ Leo asks without a transition.

Amara frowns. ‘Well, I didn’t know that you were here to talk shop, Leo. I thought you were just here to eat Drake’s steak and drink my cocktails.’

Leo pauses and shoots her an annoyed look, before changing his demeanor completely and bursting into a very fake laughter. ‘We got ourselves a fiery one!’ He exclaims.

Ew, she thinks. This is indeed the seed of Constantine, all entitlement and condescension. ‘Well, I can answer your question,’ she responds. ‘I’ll talk to the press when we’re about to go on tour. I don’t feel like I owe anyone an explanation at the moment, and I’m taking a well-deserved break from all the shit that’s been thrown at me, and at my friends lately. Is that alright with you?’

She didn’t mean for it to come out so aggressively. She really didn’t. But she couldn’t help it. She makes a conscious effort to maintain eye contact with Leo, and to not lock eyes with any of her friends, not right now.

Leo takes a sip of his whiskey and a deep breath. ‘I get it. My brother told me that those pictures were staged, and for what it’s worth, I think a lot of people were suspicious of that. You’re a favorite in the Cordonian press, and a lot of people support you.’

Amara swallows hard. She didn’t expect him to go this route. ‘Oh. Thank you. I didn’t mean to be defensive, I—‘

Leo holds out a hand. ‘No no, I know. It’s natural to be defensive in this particular case. All I wanted to say is, you should talk to the press. They can surprise you.’ He takes another sip. ‘Hell, if they’re still kind to me after the shit I pulled, there’s no way they would reject a loveable knockout like yourself.’

Amara forces a smile. At least it’s semi-nice and just a little skeevy.

*****

Leo walks in the kitchen and hands Drake his plate. ‘Thanks bro, it was delicious. And thank you for the hospitality.’

Drake smiles as he takes the dirty plate. ‘Of course. I’m glad you came. It’s been fun.’

Leo nods. He wishes he could just ask him what he wants to know, and be done with it. He’s not stealthy, that’s not him. His mom used to call him her little bull in the china shop, always putting his foot in his mouth. He chooses to view it as a quality, but right here, right now, he’s not sure.

The worst part is, he genuinely likes Drake. They had such good times together when they were younger, and he was always a brother to Liam, moreso than Leo was himself. Maybe he’s just pissed that Drake has thrown in the towel a bit, forcing him to cut in again and face his responsibilities as an older brother. Maybe it’s just that.

Or maybe it pisses him off that the one woman his brother was interested in doesn’t seem interested at all, and now Liam is stuck with the same bitch Leo was stuck with in the first place. Maybe he’s pissed that, against all odds, the royals get the short end of the stick while the commoners have their fun in their country homes.

Or maybe he just wants to get to the bottom of this, dammit. He would never go to his brother to tell him that he’s suspicious about Drake and Amara, no. That would break his heart, and without proof, it would be useless.

But if he does see anything incriminating...maybe that would help Liam move on?

Oh well. Next time. They’re gonna be stuck on a train for a while, all together, kind of like an Agatha Christie novel.

‘I’m gonna head out,’ Leo says calmly. ‘But bro, I just wanna say, I’m worried about Li. He’s not well. I’d appreciate it if you joined my efforts to lift his spirits, on the tour.’

Drake nods. ‘Of course. Liam and I talked yesterday, and I agree with you, he’s not doing well. I’ll do what I can.’

Leo pats Drake’s shoulder. ‘Great. I also hope this one over there—‘ he gestures at Amara from afar— ‘changes her mind. Liam is pretty smitten, to the point that he wants to give her a fucking duchy. Would be nice if she got off her high horse.’

*****

Drake bites his lip. His instincts yell at him to go to bat for his Amara, but he knows he would fuck them both over if he revealed too much. So, he bites his lip a little harder, and he nods. ‘Well, can’t force her to like him, Leo.’

Leo shrugs. ‘I know, I know. No one is saying that. But if she spent a bit more time with him, maybe she’d change her mind, it’s all I’m saying.’

Drake plasters on a fake smile, which he’s never really done before, and he’s sure his face looks like a deflated balloon. ‘It’s their business, yeah,’ he says awkwardly.

Shit, he thinks, hopefully he didn’t fuck it all up with one awkward moment. Amara has been doing so well all evening, even when she got a little defensive, she pulled it off. Hana, Max, and Michael have been champs ever since they had all gathered around cocktails, but he was definitely the weakest link. Leo knows him well, and he’s pretty sure he picked up on the tension.

Leo walks back into the living room and holds out his arms to Maxwell. ‘I’m gonna get going, I have an early breakfast with my Father. See you on tour, Maxxie?’

He hugs everyone, even Michael whom he barely talked to, and when Amara’s turn comes, Drake has to squeeze his fist really tight to relieve some of the tension and annoyance it brings to him.

‘Alright brother,’ Leo says to Drake as he pulls him in for a bear hug. ‘Thanks for everything and see you soon.’

They all continue to fake it for a little longer, until Leo’s headlights are seen driving away. Then, a collective sigh resounds.

‘Holy fucking shitballs,’ Michael exhales.

‘I second that sentiment,’ Hana adds.

Amara starts giggling uncontrollably. ‘Guys, that was awful. What the hell is our life now? We’re dodging very bad spies from the Royal family?’ She continues to chuckle.

Michael joins in on the laughter. ‘When I tell my coworkers, they won’t believe me, that’s for sure.’

Amara closes the distance between herself and Drake, and wraps him in a warm hug. ‘You all did great, guys. Plus, the man’s no genius. No way he found anything incriminating.’

Drake plants a kiss on the top of Amara’s head. ‘He’s definitely suspicious, though.’

Amara shrugs. ‘Who cares? He’s a narcissistic royal dropout. Who’s gonna believe him?’ She sighs. ‘I’m glad I hid my stuff in Michael’s room, though. He was definitely snooping when he went to the bathroom.’

Hana gasps. ‘I knew it! He didn’t even pee.’

Maxwell grimaces. ‘How do you know? Do you have a superpower to see how full someone’s bladder is?’

Hana giggles. ‘No, ew, I just noticed everything was silent until he flushed. No peeing sound.’

Amara makes an approving face. ‘Look at you, Detective Lee, gathering clues. You make me proud.’

*****

‘Ugh,’ Amara sighs as she schleps her luggage back to Drake’s room. ‘Being sneaky is so exhausting.’

Drake smiles. ‘You could have let me carry all this, y’know.’

She shrugs. ‘I could have.’ She plops down on the bed. ‘I’m glad we played Monopoly after he left. It lightened the mood.’

‘Yeah, if you exclude Maxwell getting super upset because he kept paying Hana rent. The man has no idea what rent is.’

Amara laughs wholeheartedly. ‘I know. And Michael couldn’t stop saying ‘That’s how it WORKS, Maxwell!’, in his scary lawyer voice.’ She snuggles in Drake’s arms. ‘It was so nice. Can we also do nothing productive tomorrow?’

Drake nods. ‘You got it. Maybe we can go to the farmers’ market? No goats this time, though.’

‘Deal. Ugh,’ she repeats. ‘This reminded me how much I love being out in the open with you, and how much I love being here in the cabin. Sneaking around is stressful.’

Drake raises an eyebrow. ‘It is, but… it’s a little bit exciting, too, right?’

Amara bites her lip. She loves seeing that spark in Drake’s eyes. The same spark that has been there ever since their first escapade to the cop bar, all those weeks and weeks ago. The same spark that has come back every time they locked eyes in a crowd, knowing perfectly well that they would meet in the palace bathroom a few minutes later.

‘It is VERY exciting,’ she responds, running her hand down his unbuttoned shirt.

He strokes her hair, and down to her shoulder, not breaking eye contact. ‘Imagine being confined to a train car. We have to behave in front of people, right?’

She feels a tingle in her core. ‘Right,’ she agrees.

‘But in private,’ he continues, ‘as soon as I can get you alone, wherever that is—‘

‘Where would it be?’ She interrupts.

He grins. ‘Anywhere I can, we can’t be too picky about our stolen moments. It could be between two cars. In your cabin if you’re alone. In a deserted restaurant car.’

She gently nibs at his neck. ‘What would you do to me in the deserted restaurant car?’

‘I would kiss you as deep as I can,’ he says before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, illustrating his point.

She moans. ‘And?’ She asks

‘I would push you against the wall, and unbutton your jeans,’ he says as he actually does so. ‘Then…’ he trails off, unzips her pants, and lets his hand wander inside her panties, drawing a muffled moan from Amara’s lips. ‘Yeah, just like that,’ he whispers, ‘I’d pin you against a wall and I’d do the thing you like, just like this,’ he adds as he draws circles around her clit with his index finger, all the while letting his middle finger find her entrance.

‘Fuck,’ she whispers. ‘Mmm, Drake…’

Her lips crash against his, and her tongue finds his, as she bucks her hips against his hand. ‘I’d tell you I love you,’ he adds between kisses, ‘and that I want you so fucking bad…’

‘Mmm,’ she moans, entranced. ‘I’d tell you I love you too, and I would also unzip you,’ she says as she finds his zipper and pulls it down. She feels her stomach flutter as she frees Drake’s hard cock. ‘If we’re really alone, maybe I would even…’ she interrupts herself and lowers her head towards his crotch.

Drake moans. ‘Baby…’ he whispers.

Amara teases the tip of his cock with her tongue, until he can’t take it any longer and she takes it in her mouth.

‘Fuck,’ he groans. ‘This is so fucking good…’

She takes care of him intently, her head bobbing up and down, faster and faster, until he gently cups her face.

‘I want you so fucking bad,’ he says in a low, raspy voice.

She feels her core tighten. She needs him inside her, right now. She’s never wanted someone so badly, all the time. If he wanted to fuck her all day, every day, she’d be all in.

Amara sits up and takes off her shirt and bra. Drake groans some more, taking off his clothes in a hurry. He pulls down her jeans and underwear completely, as if every second counted. ‘Fuck, get naked for me,’ he groans. He pulls her on top of him, his hands everywhere, as if he had more than two. He cups her breasts, caresses her back, her stomach, her ass, everything. He pulls her close, and kisses her like there’s no tomorrow. She places herself so his cock is right at her entrance, and she gently lowers herself onto it, taking every inch slowly.

‘Mmmmm, Amara,’ he whispers, bucking his hips slowly. She rides him with long, slow thrusts, each one drawing a moan from the both of them. She feels her orgasm getting closer, she needs to take her time. He knows her, he knows she likes it deep and slow, deeper and deeper, and he lets her control her rhythm. Soon, her breath is uneven, she can’t wait much longer.

‘I love you,’ he whispers between kisses, ‘I fucking love you, Amara. Please come for me.’

She feels her walls contract around Drake’s hard cock, she feels it coming. She loses herself in the moment.

*****

‘NO!’

Maxwell wakes up on the floor, stunned. What the fuck just happened, he thinks. He sits up and rubs his eyes. He peeks over to the bed, where Hana is sprawled out, pushing off the comforter and seemingly reenacting a strange battle.

‘No! Not the bees again,’ she whispers as she fights an invisible army of bees.

Maxwell slaps his hand on his own mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his laugh. Oh boy, he thinks. That’s an oddly specific nightmare.

No way he’s gonna go back to sleep right now, with Hana all across the queen bed. He shrugs and gets up. He glances at the alarm clock. 4 AM. He can probably catch some sleep on the couch.

He’s careful not to wake anyone up, and goes down each step very slowly. Once downstairs, he notices the kitchen light is on. ‘Hello?’ He whispers.

He comes in to find Michael at the kitchen table, tea in hand. ‘Hi, Max,’ he yawns.

Max’s heart skips a beat. Why does he have to feel this way every time he stumbles upon that man? He shakes it off and smiles. ‘Hey, Michael, what are you doing up?’

‘I couldn’t sleep, I guess,’ he shrugs. ‘You?’

Max shrugs too. ‘Hana had a massive, weird nightmare, and literally pushed me off the bed.’

Michael’s eyes widen. ‘Wow. Intense. Is she ok?’

‘Well, she better not be allergic to bees in her dream.’

Michael laughs. ‘Wow, scary stuff. Want some tea? I found some herbal stuff in the pantry, it’s old but it’s still ok.’

Max nods. ‘Sure. It must have been Bianca’s, so it’s probably ten years old, but I’m willing to risk it!’

Michael serves another cup for Max and hands it to him. ‘Here, it’s very hot.’

They sit side by side on the living room couch. Michael sits cross legged, and Maxwell can’t help but notice how nice his legs look in his pajama pants, simple light gray joggers. He shakes it off again. Stop it, you perv, he thinks.

Michael smiles as he sips on his tea. ‘This tea is actually pretty gross, you’re right.’

Max chuckles. ‘Told ya.’ He gets up and grabs the bottle Leo brought. ‘Here. Drake won’t care if we open this.’ He pours two shots and puts a couple of ice cubes in each. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘To stealing your friend’s booze.’

Michael laughs. ‘Ha!’ He takes a big sip, sighs, and adds sheepishly, ‘To be honest, I feel like Drake owes me this much.’

Maxwell raises an eyebrow.

Michael continues, ‘I’m pretty sure I heard his bed squeak very loudly earlier, along with a few...unmistakable sounds. I’m scarred for life.’

Maxwell bursts out laughing. ‘Welcome to my life, Michael!’ He raises his glass again. ‘To whiskey helping with your trauma!’

Michael chuckles. ‘Not just the whiskey, Maxwell. You’re helping, too.’

‘Aw shucks,’ Max waves him off, blushing. ‘Solidarity for the insomniacs of the house.’

Michael looks down at his glass. ‘It’s more than that. You’ve been quite the rock for me. I feel like I’ve thanked you many times, but none of those times have seemed...enough. I’m forever grateful.’

Maxwell looks away, unable to hide his blushing face any longer. ‘Michael, you don’t have to be. It’s been my pleasure, truly. I wish you weren’t leaving so soon.’ There it is, it came out. ‘I mean, I know you need to go home to Callie, of course, but I just meant, um… I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you more.’ Oh God, he thinks. This isn’t going well, he can’t stop talking.

Michael remains silent for a little while. Surprisingly, it’s comfortable. In another situation, Maxwell would try to fix his earlier babbling by babbling a lot more, but...not now. Now he just settles into the silence.

Michael downs the rest of his whiskey, and gulps it down with a deep sigh. As soon as the liquid is down his throat, he swiftly reaches out to Maxwell’s hand, which was casually resting on the couch cushion. He squeezes it, still silent.

Maxwell can’t speak. All he can do it squeeze it back, as tenderly as he can. After a minute, Michael takes his hand away and uses it to pour himself another shot of whiskey, which he downs instantly. When Max finally gathers the courage to turn towards him, he realizes Michael’s eyes are filled with tears. He wants to reach out as well, but he’s afraid of overstepping.

‘Seriously,’ Michael says, finally breaking the silence. ‘You’ve helped me more than I can explain.’ He lets out a sad chuckle. ‘Maybe it’s for the best that I’m leaving on Thursday. I have a lot to process.’

Maxwell exhales, and realizes he’d been holding his breath ever since their hands had touched. His heart is racing. ‘To...process?’ He asks hesitantly.

Michael nods and puts his head in his hands. He turns to Maxwell and looks him right in the eye. Max’s stomach flutters. ‘I wish I could stay, but I wouldn’t want to go too fast. I finally feel like I have a chance at healing.’

Maxwell finds the courage to nod. ‘You do?’ He risks.

Michael smiles, and a tear falls down his cheek. ‘I really do. And it’s fucking crazy, because it’s been a week, but hey,’ he shrugs, ‘stranger things have happened. Like, oh, you know, my sister being in a competition for a fucking prince’s hand.’

Maxwell laughs. Thank God for Michael’s humor. ‘I guess,’ he chuckles.

Michael continues. ‘I’m sorry, I’m putting a lot on you. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it, believe me, I’ve tried.’

Maxwell wants to reach out for his hand so badly, but he refrains and settles for a light pat on the shoulder, which feels wrong, and too distant, but it’ll have to do. ‘You’re not putting too much on me.’

Michael lets out what wants to be a chuckle, but it sounds like a muffled sob. ‘Yeah? Because I swear I feel like this—‘ he gestures between the two of them— ‘isn’t all in my head, but sometimes I think, hey, maybe it’s all in my head.’

Maxwell snorts. ‘Believe me. It’s not all in your head. It’s there.’

Michael wipes off the tear that fell off two minutes ago. ‘Good. I mean, I’m glad. God, this isn’t smooth, come on Michael…’ he laughs to himself.

‘Michael, you’re speaking to the man who once stabbed his brother in the arm while opening a bottle of champagne with a sword. I am the king of not smooth.’

‘Really? You stabbed Bertrand?’ He asks anxiously.

‘Eh, it was a little cut,’ Maxwell waves him off. ‘But still. I am not smooth, and not everything needs to be perfect. I like this. I like that we tried to have tea, and it sucked, and then we made it good by dumping it out and replacing it with whiskey. I like improvising. I’m in no rush, I impose no pressure. I’m just here.’

Maxwell lets out a long sigh. He’s gotta stop holding his breath so much.

Michael smiles. ‘Well, for someone who doesn’t like perfect, you sure deliver a pretty perfect pep talk soliloquy.’

Max’s throat is in knots. Thank God for the dark-ish room, because he couldn’t handle seeing all of Michael’s face, with everything it represents. Everything it could be.

Michael takes a deep breath and gets up to rinse his whiskey glass. He walks back over to Maxwell and, without hesitation, plants a tender kiss on his cheek. Max has to fight the urge to capture his lips in his, to hold him tight, because no, not now, not yet, not while he’s processing.

Michael’s eyes meet his, and he whispers ‘Good night, Max,’ before disappearing up the stairs.

*****

Michael closes the bedroom door behind him, his hands shaking. He can’t believe that he did that, said that, confessed everything. He can’t believed there was this much to confess in just a week, but here we are.

Still shaking, he unplugs his phone from the charger and opens the photos. Scrolling back, his eyes meet smiley pictures of his late husband, including some of their wedding day, all toothy grins and happiness. Michael plops down on the bed, weak at the knees. Before he can stop it, he lets out a long sob, and tears flood his cheeks.

Two years.

Two years since he’s seen the love of his life, the father of his daughter, the man he said ‘I do’ to, in the flesh. Two years since they kissed, held hands, made love.

Two years since he’s been loved. Taken care of. Looked at with tenderness.

Are two years enough?

They were enough to make him feel like all hope was lost. They were enough to make him feel comfortable in the blanket of loneliness that wrapped him. They were enough to make him feel like a long-time widower, a person who would remain in that situation forever, and that’s that.

But were they enough to move on?

Probably not. Those two years did nothing in that direction. But the past week did. The warm, caring man he’d met did. The quicker pace of his heart when he was around did. The rush he felt when he kissed his cheek tonight did.

The feelings growing in his heart did.

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983 , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love , @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @drxkewalker @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover @princessleac1

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that’s not why i’m staying #drake walker x amara suarez #dramara #drake walker x mc #that's not why i'm going #drake walker #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara #the royal romance fanfic #maxwell beaumont #maxwell x michael

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sometimesrosy · 5 years ago

Note

Did you hear the news about The 100 prequel today? I’m pretty intrigued, but I don’t like the idea that it’s going to take away an episode from The 100 in its final season, as it’s a backdoor pilot (already confirmed that it’s going to air as an episode in season 7). So now we have 15 episodes of The 100 itself, and that makes me sad. I wish they could just do it after the final episode and not in the middle of the final season. I want as much time with our current characters as we can get.

Yes I heard about it and I made the mistake of reading the comments on twitter.

I was horrified by how negative and entitled our fandom has become, how dismissive of JR and of the story that HE is telling. Downright insulting. Don’t listen to those people. Don’t listen to assholes. This season already has more episodes than a regular season, he can tell the story of Bellarke and the delnquents in that time.

Why do you people ASSUME that he can’t tell this story to your satisfaction? If you hate his stories then you shouldn’t be so attached to them in the first place. If you dont’ like his writing or storytelling then you should let go of this show because you don’t like it and you dont’ think he can do a good job.

Instead, people act like the dude who has stubbornly refused to to be moved by ANYONE away from the story he wanted to tell is somehow going to sell out.

Set 97 years before the events of the original series, the new project starts with the end of the world, a nuclear apocalypse that wipes out most of the human population on Earth. The adventure follows a band of survivors on the ground as they learn to cope in a dangerous world while fighting to create a new and better society from the ashes of what came before. [x]

I mean. This doesn’t sound bad. If we think about what we’ve already gotten about this topic, none of the prequel era episodes we’ve seen have been disappointments. Watching how Becca/ALIE were connected to the end of the world was fascinating. Watching Josephine in her flashbacks was fascinating. Meeting Diyoza and the eligius prisoners was fascinating. Seeing the Sanctumites land and colonize Alpha was fascinating.

None of this storyline has so far made the story of The 100 lesser. In fact, it has enriched it.

None of these stories took away from the current characters. They in fact, can all handle being their own stories.

If we get something along the lines of Thirteen, when we found out how Becca was connected to the grounders, not only do we get backstory that moves our story forward, but we also expand into a world that... now is going to be its own story. It turns out we’re going to be GETTING that story.

You know. I first hear that information about the back door pilot, and as usual, I derived and entirely different meaning from it.

You see, what I thought was:

time. travel. TIME. TRAVEL. time travel time travel time travel.it's still possible

I got real excited thinking about HOW they might manage to work this pre apocalypse story into the story so many centuries in the future. And I’m like, because the Anomaly offers a gateway into the past and now ALSO onto the earth? HOW ARE WE GETTING BACK TO EARTH? None of our current character saw the apocalypse. Even Diyoza or Russell who were legit alive and on earth before it all went down, they LEFT before it happened. The eligius missions were gone. The only one who was there was... sheidheda. or maybe not. we don’t know when he became heda. but we was the only one there after the bomb.

Then I went over to see JR’s tweet and stupidly read the comments. And y’all are just like *but i’m not getting what I want and i hate you because it’s not about me and my ship.* and i’m just so fed up with fandom.

You’re given all this new shit and you’re just like, but what if my headcanons dont’ come true?

COME ON MAN. Get over yourselves. Think about what it could mean to the story that might go somewhere rather than just what you don’t like. Stop thinking about how it affects YOU and start thinking about how it affects the story.

Like. Did any one of you think that if we have some sort of ACCESS to earth at the time of the apocalypse or pre apocalypse that maybe OUR HEROES will be going back there too?????

I mean. Where the hecking heck is Diyoza? And Hope and Octavia, where were they? There’s a place. With a culture. And they live there.

Did anyone one of you think that this backdoor pilot might actually be... not just the apocalypse, the first one, but... what if it’s OUR DELINQUENTS who are sent back in time. What if THEY are the ones living in the apocalypse. We now have Clarke, Echo, Murphy and Emori who are nightbloods. Why? Why Echo? She didn’t get a minddrive, just the nightblood. THEY are more able to survive in a nuclear apocalypse now.

I don’t know for sure that our heroes might carry on over into the new pilot, but I don’t know for sure they don’t either. Maybe it’s Hope’s world. Maybe it’s the world that Becca showed us. IDK.

BUT THERE ARE POSSIBILITIES and we don’t know that those possibilities are bad. Why anticipate them sucking? Maybe they’ll move OUR story forward too. Stop being so jealous.

I also found this.

Back in August, Rothenberg himself revealed that The 100 will end with the upcoming season 7. And when EW asked the showrunner if anyone would get a happy ending in the series finale, he laughed. “I think that’s an interesting way to put it,” Rothenberg said. “A happy ending? I’d say that’s probably, well… it’ll be our version of a happy ending, how about that?”The showrunner laughed again before continuing. “But I definitely can safely say that we’re trying to say something more with season 7,” Rothenberg added. “The ending of a story always is the point of the story, the moral of the story. We have yet to reveal the moral of the story, but it will be revealed in season 7. And it won’t be ‘People are horrible, we all suck, we’re willing to kill everyone and everything and do anything to survive.’ There’s a higher purpose.” [x]

See. Now. I hear that, and I think what he’s doing is all part of a plan. If you think Bellarke isn’t part of that plan, you haven’t been watching very well. If you think this backdoor pilot isn’t part of the plan or won’t fit into his plan, you aren’t noticing how much of a creative control freak JR is.

#the 100 #the 100 s7 #prequel #i interpreted it very differently than fandom did #i'm excited

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staliasjeronica · 5 years ago

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Riverdale S4 Ep11 Thoughts *Spoilers*

- I’m excited about the quiz show but I wish it wasn’t just to show off how smart Betty is. I know she’s smart, all the girls are, but if they dumb them down to make Betty look good…

- Archie has such a good heart ugh the greatest boy in Riverdale and nobody can compare to him!!! 🥺❤️

- Jughead mentioning Bret after him and Betty have sex. We love Bret x Jughead lmao

- Betty looks so good though can she please have her hair down all the time pLEASE 👀❤️

- Betty looks like Lili way too much and I don’t like that… Bughead is basically just Sprousehart and that’s not a good thing

- NOT CHERONICA ASKING ABOUT ALCOHOL TO AN ADULT AT THEIR SCHOOL NO LESS??? Whatever, they look good so I’ll let it slide for the best girls in Riverdale

- “Boy in the river” is too soft but serial killers, which has probably been done so many times, isn’t…? The desperation to cling to the black hood is potent

- JUGHEAD AND CHARLES SCENES??? YESSSS WE LOVE WHEN THEY SHOW THAT THEY’RE ACTUALLY SIBLINGS!!!

- TOM’S BEEN WORKING CONSTRUCTION??? SINCE WHEN??? Also not Archie replacing Tom with Frank?? And with NO warning??

- Veronica is such a cutie we love!!! And finally solid proof that Toni is smart!!! Betty taking Cheryl’s answer though smh isn’t there usually a rule against that??

- Betty talking about Bret to Charles gives off enemies to lovers vibes. I don’t genuinely ship it but the idea of it though is interesting. Anything to shake things up. Also, is she really trying to get Charles to help her cheat just because she feels entitled to getting into Yale??

- NERVOUS JUGHEAD 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

- “Brown Hood” ew… also none of those other interesting stories were good enough but we’re going to STILL have to hear about the dumb black hood? LET IT GO

- FRANK THAT IS NOT YOUR FUCKING HOUSE YOU CAN’T JUST INVITE PEOPLE FOR BEERS EVEN IF THEY WORK AT ANDREWS CONSTRUCTION

- VERONICA CAN YOU JUST FUCKING STOP COMPETING WITH YOUR FATHER AND ALSO TELLING HIM WHAT’S IN IT??? WE KNOW YOU’RE SMARTER THAN THIS BUT THE WRITERS ALWAYS DO YOU DIRTY

- It’s kinda funny how much Betty is like Bret, Like, entitled, selfish, pretends to be higher than everybody else, etc… anyways enemies to lovers 😜😜😜

- Of course Bret bought his way into everything, wasn’t it obvious?? Also how exactly did Charles get information on that if the dad wouldn’t have wrote it down??? Like, the only way Charles would have been able to get that would be if he snooped around. It wouldn’t be official (or hidden and official) paperwork...

- So Betty can milk her father being the black hood but jughead can’t use it as a story despite technically being a victim of it himself? I mean I get it but like… is it really THAT BIG of a deal?

- NO THE SPEAKEASY?!!!?!!? Hate that Veronica never wanted to be a criminal but now she’s illegally going to sell alcohol and knowing her annoying ass father and how much the writers love this boring rivalry, he’s going to find out and ruin it.

- Fangs 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 It’s good to see that he’s still alive smh. But, damn, they really had to ruin any possibility of Kangs like they never even got a true chance to be good :(

- THIS DUDE LOOKS LIKE HE’S IN HIS 20′S??!?!?? KEVIN???!?!?! SIR?!?!?!? BE CAREFUL?!?!!?!?

- Betty hounding Jughead for lying when she constantly lies to him I—

- BETTY REALLY TOLD JUGHEAD HE DOESN’T DESERVE TO GO TO YALE IDSLFJHAKFSHKF OMG IS BUGHEAD FINALLY UNRAVELLING!?

- This “make Tom a second father to Archie” is so weird like—other than Harv getting into a fight with one of the writers on Twitter (which made my thoughts on it more negative lol) it’s just… he has his own son that he never talks to (especially after being in a CULT) and it rubs me the wrong way… it’s nice for Archie to have a father figure but they were kinda setting FP up to do that and now suddenly out of NOWHERE it’s Tom?

- Betty not getting into Yale because of who her father is and not her grades :( That would such. But it makes sense...

- Jughead, you act like Bret would care if Betty found out that you’re using her father for a story without her permission.

- YESSSS BETTY DESTROYING HAL’S GRAVE EVEN THOUGH IT WON’T DO SHIT AND SHE WAS LIKE HIS BEST FRIEND A LITTLE BIT AGO BUT WHATEVER. See, people, this is a badass scene. THIS. Her actually being angry and venting, not destroying others for no reason. This.

- ARCHIE IS A HIGH SCHOOL TEENAGER HE CAN’T BE AROUND ON THE SITE ALL THE TIME DAMN

- Tickled…..?????? 5 GRAND??? SHIT THAT’S... mmhm, Sounds kinda creepy but 👀

- I feel like Bughead is doomed because suddenly they’re actually being kinda cute and like 1% interesting and usually when that happens the person or couple I don’t like ends up either dead or something

- So how the fuck can Betty get into Yale considering she said in the flash forward she’s in Yale?

- CHERONICA DANCING WE LOVE TO SEE ANOTHER DANCING SCENE!!! We love the best dressed and most beautiful girls in Riverdale!!!!

- See, this is why you don’t tell Hiram SHIT but the writers insist to make them seem dumb (so Veronica can come up with a plan and make it perfect but she tells her enemy/father what she’s doing so he can stop her? Sure… makes TOTAL sense…) so that Hiram can come in and fuck everything up. I get that it can’t come easy because this is a TV show but for the love of God Hiram will never fucking leave will he???

- He really has to destroy it???? What a fucking loser lmao he’s such a baby

- Ooh Veronica is pissed! She looks hot when she has that angry look I say that’s my baby she’s gonna retaliate!!

- I’m low-key scared for Kevin… like he’s always used by his dates.

- Cheryl being the smart bitch she is we loveeeee!!!

- YES REVAMP THE BROTHEL. There’s nothing that says female empowerment about Penelope but um whatever this is actually a really good idea… WE LOVE A CHERONICA TEAM UP

- I know Cheryl’s gonna ask Toni but Toni’s a part of—wait… PENELOPE?? No. JUST FUCKING LET HER DIE OFF PLEASE. Lmao but just imagine if someone decided to go have sex in the bunker and Penelope is just like “oh hey”

- FRANK JUST FUCKING ATTACKED TOM??? So the ex-sheriff isn’t gonna press charges?? Umm okay

- Frank literally stfu don’t guilt him into not feeling bad for you, you’re a fucking thief

- I legit just cringed when Betty said she was Jughead’s cheerleader that was… ew

- Mmhm… would Betty cheat?? Maybe. Also WHY would Alice fucking do that? I mean I guess it matches season 1 Alice but it’s still dumb that her s1 personality came out of nowhere and was villainized

- Oh Betty totally cheated didn’t she………… “THE LIMIT DOES NOT EXIST” MEAN GIRLS!!!

- WHY IS VERONICA GIVING IT TO BETTY WHEN SHE’S THE ONE WHO’S ANSWERED ALL OF THE FUCKING ANSWERS? But lemme guess they’re making it seem like she cheated but suddenly she’s smart enough to answer all of the questions

- LOWKEY THAT BUGHEAD MOMENT WAS CUTE?!?!?!?!? JERONICA’S CLOSE YOUR EYES

- Yup, Betty was suddenly a fucking genius mmhm I knew they were gonna pander to her smhhhhhhhh

- YES ARCHIE STAND UP TO FRANK!!!!!!!!!! And please apologize to Tom 🥺🥺

- I BET YOU NO ONE CLAPPED FOR VERCHONI 😭😭

- So how does she get into Yale if they think she cheated?

- PUT ON LEAVE WITHOUT PAY JUST BECAUSE OF THAT???? THIS IS A HIGH SCHOOL THING INTERFERING WITH AN ADULT THING?? THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE?? NO ONE IN THE ADULT WORLD WOULD CARE… NOR WOULD IT EVEN REACH YOUR JOB LMAO BUT OKAY

- WAIT KEVIN IS HELPING FANGS GET MONEY WE FUCKING LOVEEEEEE?!???!!?!?!? HE CAN PAY FOR HIS MOM’S SURGERIES!!! Fangs family background info coinciding with Toni’s here we go!!! Also Fangs stop being a cutie challenge!!!

- THEY REALLY THOUGHT THAT THE MASK… THAT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE PENELOPE…. WOULD HIDE HER?!?!?!?!

- TONI HAS A LINE!!!!! AND A NOD TO HER BEING A SOUTH SIDE SERPENT AND GREAT WITH TECH

- The camera making Bret look monstrously huge lmao

- Jesus not a fucking duel….

- So is this scene before or after Betty “hits Jughead”

- BARCHIE HOLDING HANDS. In the gif shown before the episode there was nothing platonic about that look. Of course with context… it’s kinda… inappropriate but YESSS BARCHIE RISE!!!!!

WHO WAS THE WRITER FOR THIS EPISODE BECAUSE THEY ARE THE ONLY ONE WE CAN TRUST.

#Riverdale #Veronica Lodge #Archie Andrews #anti-bughead #anti-betty cooper

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takaraphoenix · 6 years ago

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@ketchups-bitch prompted:

Peter with Morgan in general is all I need in life. Also Tony and Peter catching up. Make me cry with joy for once since endgame lmao

“That's super cool”, whispered Morgan in awe.

She was sitting in front of her bed with her head tilted up to look at Peter, who was danging from the ceiling. He grinned at her before shooting his webbing to grab Morgan's favorite stuffed toy and pulling it close from across the room. Morgan made an ew sound at the webbing on the pet before she started giggling at the funny face Peter made.

“Ouch. Ouch! Stop hitting me with a broom, Keener!”, yelped Peter.

Harley smirked where he stood in the doorway, poking Peter with a broom. “Why? It's how my mom used to get spiders off the ceiling. Shoo. Shoo, spider.”

“...Ha, ha, ha”, drawled Peter unimpressed and webbed Harley's face.

Harley huffed as he stumbled backward, trying to pull the webbing off his face. Morgan liked them. They were really silly and kept making fun of each other and making her laugh. For the past few days, she had been living with mommy and pa, because daddy was still in the super secret hospital, getting better. She didn't know why she had to go to a lake all dressed in black and look really sad, but everyone kept telling her that it was because her daddy wanted to spend all his time with her. And that? That was very okay with her. However, he was still getting better and she was bored and worried and Harley and Peter have been here to make her laugh.

“So, I guess it's my turn, right?”, asked Peter curiously.

They had a schedule, because daddy was still supposed to rest and everyone wanted to visit him and talk to him and his doctor – a man with a really funny goatee and an even funnier cape that could move – had chided them and told them 'two people at a time! No more!'. So now they had a schedule for who got to see her dad. But Morgan had special privileges to see him more often than the others! She tugged on Peter's sleeve and looked up at him with the sad Bambi eyes her dad had taught her to get everything from mommy and from pa.

“...And I guess I'll take the mini Stark with me”, grunted Peter amused.

He went down onto his knees so she could climb onto his back and cling onto his neck. She giggled delighted as he lifted her up. Harley watched them curiously and with a small grin.

“You know what route to take?”, asked Harley.

“Yes, I know how to get there without attracting press attention”, huffed Peter and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you fuss worse than my aunt May.”

“Oh, I'm sorry Mister 'Hello, I'm Peter Parker!'. You suck with your secret identity. Who's to say you won't blow the mechanic's fake death too?”, accused Harley and narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, I know you admire him but the whole advertising your secret identity thing? Was not his best call.”

Peter huffed and ducked his head, muttering beneath his breath as he walked past Harley. Seriously, that kid fussed. And he acted all like he was Peter's senior, because he had known Tony longer than Peter. Sure, sure, he was brilliant and all that – but Peter didn't need a babysitter!

“Be careful anyway”, sighed Harley and rolled his eyes. “There's a looting downtown.”

Peter frowned at that and pulled Morgan a little closer. Okay maybe Harley's fussing wasn't entirely unreasonable. They had heard what had happened to the planet during the five years when everyone had been dusted, but right now was a far larger mess. Houses had been sold, apartments and things that had belonged to dusted people now belonged to others, jobs were gone to the survivors now, life partners had moved on from their losses, for other dusted people their surviving family had died of natural causes in the past five years, supposedly orphaned children had been adopted in those five years and had virtually no memories of their dusted parents. Life had gone on in those five years and many people had a problem adjusting to it. Many felt entitled to taking back what once belonged to them, no one had any idea what to do with the legal system – because being turned to dust by a crazy alien and then being brought back to life was kind of an unprecedented situation.

There were so many things that the Avengers hadn't thought of when reversing the snap. Peter himself had quite the hard time adjusting. Yes, Ned had been dusted too, but many of the people he had known hadn't... and were now suddenly college age. It was weird. His neighborhood had changed, Mister Stark – Mister Stark was older now and had a whole entire daughter.

“So... it must be cool having three parents, right?”, asked Peter lightly.

He knew that Pepper had been the surrogate for Tony, because Tony had really wanted a kid, but she could also not be absent from the life of her daughter. And since Pepper and Happy had gotten married – oh, oh Peter remembered that, he remembered how they had saved face back then when Peter had declined the offer to join the Avengers. Peter and May had been at the wedding.

“Uhu. When one says no, I just go to another who says yes”, chimed Morgan.

Peter laughed softly. He really liked the kid. He also liked the big brother role he had been taking in the past few days, ever since – ever since the undusting. Since Tony Stark had wielded his home-made Infinity Gauntlet, undid Thanos' snap and single-handedly saved the universe. Honestly, holy shit. Peter really was stanning the most amazing brilliant genius hero on the planet, huh.

The duo made their way to the secret hospital where Tony, Nebula and every other hurt Avenger and Guardian were currently recovering. They needed the privacy there, because the press was all over them, wanting to hear the story of what the Avengers had done to save the universe.

“Hello, Mister Stark!”, exclaimed Peter enthusiastically as he swung into the hospital room.

“Perfect timing! Neytiri just left with Rhodey for physical therapy!”, replied Tony with a smile. “And what did I tell you about calling me Tony, Petey?”

“That you should, is what daddy said”, stated Morgan.

“See. At least one of my kids listens to me”, huffed Tony, his smile growing.

Morgan let go of Peter's neck and eagerly crawled into Tony's arms for a tight hug while Peter sat down at the edge of the bed. Tony smoothed down Morgan's hair and kissed the top of her head.

“There's too many people who want to see me”, sighed Tony dramatically. “I haven't seen you in three days, Petey! What have you been up to? Tell me everything.”

“Uh, I mean, I was mainly with aunt May? And with Ned. Aunt May has a really hard time leaving me out of her sight since I returned. I... guess I get that”, laughed Peter awkwardly. “And I've been watching Morgan here together with Harley when Happy and Pepper have to work.”

“They're good babysitters, but not as good as auntie Nebu”, piped Morgan up.

“And considering the overall chaos with everyone who was dusted and legally declared dead, I am currently not obligated to go to school, so—o... not much happened”, continued Peter thoughtfully. “I think you have more to tell! What happened in the past five years? Tell me all about Morgan's birth! And her first day at kindergarten and—who is the flying blonde woman who seems to be with Rhodey all the time now? And the woman who called you 'uncle'? And since when are you and... uh... Nebu...?... so close? Have you spent a lot of time together in the past five years? And what happened to Thor?! Also did that one lady really have a pegasus, or did I imagine that? And was there a talking raccoon? There was, right? Together with a talking tree? I have so many questions, Mister Stark. Also why did you never introduce Harley and me? He would be way less acting like he's my senior and I should listen to him if you had introduced us earlier!”

“So many questions, so many accusations”, huffed Tony very amused. “Nebula and I spent a lot of time together returning from Titan and... in the past five years, yes. The talking raccoon doesn't like to be called a raccoon. The tree is his son. Don't ask, I don't understand that one either. And the pegasus, honestly, I have no idea where that came from either... Ah yes, the blonde flying lady is Carol and she's now dating Rhodey and Rhodey's wife. I swear I would have introduced you to his daughter Monica sooner, but... things happened, I suppose.”

Peter smiled to himself as he settled in to listen to Tony's voice.

#Iron Family #Iron Dad #Morgan Stark #Peter Parker #Harley Keener #Tony Stark #Endgame Fix It #Avengers Endgame #Avengers Endgame Spoilers #Marvel #Fanfiction #ketchups-bitch

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Show me the Stars, Chapter One (Trixya) - Kite

A/N: It’s been a long ass time since I’ve posted to AQ, but here I am with a Trixya fic. Hope you guys enjoy it! Feel free to check out my concept art over on my tumblr @youre-a-kite. And if you’re feeling the space themed lesbian au vibe, check out my fic Artemis on Ao3, which features Branjie, Trixya and Scyvie in space.

Summary: Trixie is a tour guide in a planetarium who makes up the facts as she goes along, and Katya is an astrophysicist who takes the tour with the intention of calling her out, but doesn’t.

Trixie sighs as the gaggle of elementary kids start to screech when she dims the lights, plunging them into darkness. She waits for the teachers to regain control of the room, and nods politely whilst they apologise, but she knows it’s going to be a few minutes before the kids settle.

It’s the same story every day.

But on the plus side, it usually means she can shave five minutes off the end of her presentation. Ten minutes, if one of them needs the bathroom half way through.

“Good morning kids,” Trixie says, with as much enthusiasm as her slightly hungover self will allow. “My name is Trixie Mattel and I’ll be your tour guide today. Please remember that there is no eating or drinking in the planetarium. Now, raise your hand if you’ve ever seen a star.”

-x-

The door to the break room slams shut behind her.

“I swear to god, I’m quitting tomorrow,” she groans.

Pearl scoffs. “Bitch, you say that every day.”

“I know, but this time I mean it.”

This isn’t how Trixie pictured her life would work out when she moved to LA the moment she graduated college. Like every other hopeful out there, she was going to be a star. She thought she’d at least have a recurring role on a sitcom by now. But gradually, as her savings account has drained, acting classes had been switched for shifts at the makeup counter in the mall. The agent that she’d hired became a luxury that she was no longer able to afford. She’d taken a job at the planetarium because she figured it was the closest thing to acting that she could find, but, God, she fucking hates kids.

Her colleagues are the only thing about the job that she actually enjoys. She’d gotten the job through her roommate Kim and became friendly with the other pretty quickly. She’s never been one to shy away from social situations, especially not at work.

In the break room, anything goes.

Last week, their boss, Brooke, had pulled Trixie into the office to give her a lecture on ‘why we leave our personal lives at home’ when she realised that half of the tours started late one morning because her guides had been too busy grilling Trixie about the hickey on her neck from her Tinder date to keep an eye on the time. Honestly, that talk had gone in one ear and straight out of the other. She figured that it was pretty hypocritical, coming from the woman who’s almost definitely banging the chick who works in the gift shop.

“Trix’, you’ll like this,” Pearl tells her, beckoning her over. “When Violet was working the public telescopes last night, some old couple asked her to point them towards Ursa Major.”

Violet laughs loudly, “like I know where that fucker is.”

“What did you do?” Trixie smirks.

When their job amounts to little more than following a script and flicking the lights on and off at the right time, they all know how stressful it can be when they get asked a specific question.

Violet shrugs, “I just pointed upwards. What else was I supposed to do?”

-x-

After lunch, Trixie is leading the ‘Moons of the Solar System’ tour that is open to the public. On the one hand, the ratio of children to adults on these tours is always much lower, so that’s a positive, but on the other hand, members of the public come with their own set of problems.

There’s the entitled moms, who think that their kids should get to climb up on the displays. There’s the know it all dads, who like to jump in with a ‘well, actually’ every once in a while. There’s always a group of tourists who never listen to the ‘no flash photography’ instruction at the beginning. But every once in a while, there’s someone interesting or quirky or different, that makes her shifts just about bearable.

Pearl is collecting ticket stubs at the entrance to the planetarium dome, and gives Trixie a nod when the last members of the audience have filtered in. As she leaves, she closes the doors behind her and sets the lights so that they begin to dim.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gents. I’m Trixie Mattel and I’ll be your tour guide today. Please remember that there is no eating or drinking in the auditorium. Now, raise your hand if you’ve ever seen the moon.”

She rattles through the opening section about Earth’s moons fairly quickly. It’s the most boring part of the script by far, since even young kids will already know this by now. With feigned enthusiasm, she asks her audience participation questions about solar and lunar eclipses. Once she’s finished, someone raises their hand to ask a question. She prays it’s something she knows the answer to.

“When’s the next lunar eclipse?”

Trixie shifts uncomfortably. The woman’s blue eyes are piercing, waiting for her to answer.

“Um, some time next month. You’ll have to check out our website for further details.”

The woman nods, seemingly satisfied. But she’s barely into her segment on Jupiter’s four largest moons when the woman speaks up again.

“Which space probe has travelled the furthest?”

She has to use all of her willpower to force herself not to roll her eyes. The Lord really is trying to test her today. Quickly, in her head, she rattles through all of the names of the space probes that she knows, trying to pick the one that sounds right.

“Um, Galileo,” Trixie guesses.

The woman smiles, but says nothing.

“And how far away is-“

Trixie has to cut her off.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave all questions until the end.”

The woman apologises, but it doesn’t make Trixie feel any less on edge.

The thing is, Trixie knows that he answers are wrong. She knows that she’s making up the majority of her script on the spot. And she knows that the parents here are lapping it up, planning to go home and brag to their book club friends about how their kids enjoy educational pastimes, because they’re just so damn gifted.

But this woman. Who’s teetering in skyscraper heels and watching her like a hawk. Who’s nodding along with the presentation, smirking softly to herself, like she knows something that everybody else doesn’t. Trixie is sure that this woman knows that everything she’s saying is bullshit.

Trixie sets up the projectors to play a short clip showing the names and sizes of some of the solar system’s biggest moons, then positions herself in the back corner of the room. Then, as if this woman isn’t odd enough already, she starts to look up at the dome. But she doesn’t look up like all the rest of the parents, with a semi-interested expression and frequent glances to her watch. She looks up in awe, like this is the greatest thing she’s ever seen in her life. Like nothing could bring her to look away, not even for a moment.

And it’s funny, because Trixie is as captivated by the woman as the woman is by the moons.

At the end of the presentation, Trixie is dreading the asking the audience for questions, because she knows whose hand is going to be the first in the air. So, she drags out the end of the show for as long as possible, praying that she overruns. When Pearl pokes her head through the door to give her the two minute warning for the start of Kim’s next group, she’s so relieved, she could kiss her.

“And that’s all we have time for today folks. Please exit via the gift shop on your right. Have a lovely day!”

She makes a beeline for the door, but of course, the woman follows her.

“Hold on, I didn’t get to ask my questions,” she smirks coyly.

Trixie sighs and gestures to the edge of the corridor so they can stand out of the way of the crowds.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but-“

The woman holds up her hands in defence. “I’m not playing any games, I just wanted to know-“

“Save it,” Trixie cuts her off, and she really hopes she’s right because if not she’s just been very, very rude to a curious audience member. But then the woman grins and she knows she isn’t wrong. Trixie sighs. “Are you going to tell my boss?”

The woman shrugs and Trixie’s eyes widen.

“Look, I’m sorry if your kid didn’t enjoy the show or whatever. I’ll get you tickets to the next-“

“Ew, gross” the woman cuts her off by shaking her head, “I don’t have a kid.”

“Oh. Then why are you at a kids planetarium show?”

The woman laughs. Her teeth are perfectly straight and perfectly white, not that Trixie cares.

“My niece watched a show here last week, but the new facts that she learned turned out to be the biggest load of garbage I’ve ever heard.”

Trixie ought to be embarrassed, but really, she’s just annoyed. Why can’t this woman just leave a bad review on trip advisor like a normal person?

“Are you some kind of space expert or something?”

The woman takes a business card out of her purse and hands it over.

Prof. Yekaterina P Zamolodchikova. Astrophysics Department - UCLA.

“Jesus,” Trixie mumbles.

“No, Katya,” the woman replies, holding out her hand for Trixie to shake.

Trixie doesn’t shake her hand.

“Please don’t tell my boss, I really need this job.”

“Maybe if you really needed it, you’d be less terrible at it.”

Trixie shrugs. “That’s fair.”

Katya’s gaze sharpens. “What you’re doing isn’t right. Kids come here to learn and you’re just making shit up as you please.”

Trixie shifts on the balls of her feet. It would be easier to just let Brooke tear her a new asshole than have to put up with this. Maybe if she tells her before Katya has the chance, she’ll get to keep her job.

Trixie looks at her watch and sighs. “Okay, if you’re going to tell her will you at least tell her tomorrow, so that I get paid for the rest of the day.”

Katya looks Trixie up and down, then grins devilishly. “I’m not going to tell her.”

“You aren’t?”

“No.”

Trixie blinks rapidly, then stares at her, unaware of what they’re supposed to do now. Then, Katya gestures to the business card in her hand.

“See the address? I want you to meet me there at eight. I’m going to teach you what you need to know.”

Trixie narrows her eyes. “You’re a college professor and you want to teach third grade physics to a terrible planetarium tour guide…”

Katya shrugs. “Or I could tell your boss that you can’t do your job properly.”

“Fine. God damn it. Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Trixie had been warned of the unsavoury side of life before she moved to LA, but had never thought she would be blackmailed into being educated.

She looks down at the card in her hand, but when she looks back up, Katya is already walking away.

“How will I know where to find you?”

“You’ll know,” she calls back over her shoulder.

“This had better not be a trap so that you can kidnap and murder me,” Trixie shouts after her, earning her a few uncomfortable glances from nearby parents.

“No promises,” Katya tells her, then leaves the building.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #lesbian au #show me the stars #kite

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