#if they don't give him at least a smidge of grey in his hair then whats the freakin' point

[grumpy-zane]

((If/When will he appear....))

#ninjago #ninjago dr #dareth #if they don't give him at least a smidge of grey in his hair then whats the freakin' point

[crazytrolls]

Unnamed Trolls AU (Branch Centric)

✨🔮: Crystal 

🍵: Trolls 'Humanity' Effect

⏰: Time Effect 

👑: Ruler Stuff 

🎗: The Strings 

🥩: Gore 

🥚: Kids and Eggs 

🌱: Tree Crystal history 

❓: Questioning/Unsure/ Might Change

🌑🎋: Branch 

🌻: Smidge 

🦙: Cooper 

💝: Poppy 

Most likely creepy 

Animalistic 

Much larger then normal Trolls 

❓Should they be the only ones to have tails? (Except Country trolls)

🌱✨Feral Pop Trolls with a curse 

Most likely a Crystal curse (Under the Dying Pop Trolls Tree but due to the negativity it was slowly syphoning with the wishes and prayers, Despair and desperation of the Pop Trolls a Crystal slowly formed) 

🌱✨🍵Many Trolls have claws and tails to help balance because they could not use technology and other things to move forward since it would be destroyed on Trollstice or be targeted by the Burgans and used to find Pop Trolls, so they mostly just climb using their claws and hair and grab things with their tails

This leads to extremely strong leg and arm muscles 

🥩Most likely graphic 

🥩Most likely bloody 

:Stick🌑🎋: Fun fact Branch's Greying and coming in contact with it was what finally tipped the magic scale after he stumbled upon the Crystal (he has kept it since he finds it reminds him of his grandmother) ❓❓❓❓

Might change it to: where he found it while digging in the tunnels to make it safe and was going to give it to her as a birthday gift, saving it and was so happy that day that he started singing which got his Grandma Eaten 🥩(might change it to he gave her it but that was the thing she dropped?)🥩

He wanted to throw away the Crystal a first but didn't because he couldn't dare part with a gift that reminded him of her, especially since he knew they where escaping soon and wanted to take at least one thing with him before then 

❓❓❓❓

⏰Transformation happens slowly

 🔮⏰It only took 3 years for them all to fully turn only because Branch didn't try to hang around others much especially while feral (✨the closer and more exposed the faster the Transformation) 

⏰✨Only Trolls around the crystal at that time where effected 

⏰✨Aka No Trolls (who did not spend time around the tree by the time of Branches Greying) changed (Aka Brozone, and half formed PutPut Trolls with Viva)

However- the transformation does stop when enough distance is put between them and the Crystal (Aka Putput Trolls) 

⏰🥚Younger Generations don't see King Peppy as their king nor knew him to be their leader over years worth of time before transformation so of course they would challenge him when of age 

🔮⏰🥚The Younger they are the easier the transformation is (So the younger trolls started getting very sick first and started transforming, most elder Trolls don't make it most of the time) 

No Troll noticed until it was far too late to change anything because they where looking for a place to settle down and call home, (they only though that disease was spreading though-out the village while they where looking for a home)

🌑🎋🥚Branch was taken into the fold of the group quickly especially since he was young and their basic instincts said to protect young (he was noticed a lot due to the crystals pull on their instincts) 

🌑🎋🥩❓Branch also is the Bearer of the Crystal and has it tightly looped in knots around either his wrist, ankle, or neck (though he tends to nearly strangle himself when he puts it around his neck Bc he doesn't know how to tie thins so he just wraps them Around his body tightly and switches things up when the area grows numb or irritated 

🌑🎋🌻 👑Branch is actually a Competitor for the position of leader as well as Smidge because they are both strong 

NOTE - 🌑🎋👑Branch of course was a bit less swayed to fight for the position and as an older Pup fought that instinct actually but as soon as he knew about Poppy's Challenge he immediately signed himself up naturally to fight for the position especially since he was of age 

🍵Protein and meat was extremely valuable and sought after when the Burgas trapped them in the cage and Built around it, they could not get much of it and many died of starvation and lack of nutrients so they have desire to hunt meat and bugs for food 

🍵Children where always fed first when it came to meat and protein so the children have a greater liking to it 

🍵Most Trolls will actually protect what they find 'small and helpless' because of their past with the Bergans

🍵✨Only Trolls are effected, the Crystal makes any other species feel sick or uncomfortable 

🍵Ferals still know how to do things because they remember doing those things 

🥚🦙Cooper hatched near the Crystal and is far more feral and wild because he doesn't have anything to tie him down like the other Trolls 

🍵🥚⬆️The Children are also like this as well 

🎗👑💝The string of Pop Music is woven onto the hair of the Pack Leader (They follow King Peppy Instinctively because they remember him as one, there have been no fights for the position until Poppy started to Grow up and challenge her father) 

🎗The string is played by the leader once every year on the day of their escape because they are still drawn to the music- Branch isn't as much as the others but the pull of the string is far more powerful then his disdain of it 

#lore dump #Trolls AU #My Trolls AU #Trolls #trolls world tour #Trollstopia #trolls the beat goes on #trolls band together #trolls 3 #Branch Centric AU #Branch #Smidge #Cooper #Poppy

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 12

Click here if you are a first time reader.

Summary / TWs: Steve Rogers does not pass the vibe check yet again, le sad face. Loki is a good bro. Bruce fluff but what else is new? Literally everyone is a good bro, yo. Reader has best people. Tony's in there, kind of. Parents still suck.

For taglist: please send an ask if you changed your @! I noticed several people are unavailable :(

As always, my baby gay @miscmarvelwritings is the bestest beta!

"I think I am going to murder your father." Bucky's angry statement didn't surprise me. Neither did Steve's initial reaction, or anybody else's mostly pitying looks.

Bruce, my Bwucie, was calm and dejected. That worried me. I expected him to be at least a little bit green around the edges when Steve forcefully sat me down and made me explain the drunken, drugged stunt I'd done the night before, but alas, it seemed like Jolly Green was just sad. Or disappointed. And I didn't know which was worse.

The more I thought about it, the more defensive and abrasive I became. "And you'll kill yourself trying, he'll drive you fucking nuts" I responded to Barnes. "Honestly, I don't fucking see the problem here. My dad shows up five times a year at best. It's been like that forever. And it's not like I'm some kind of junkie," I defended myself, and my dad, because I really didn't see the huge deal about it. Relaxing once in a while doesn’t hurt anyone.

"It's not right!" Steve exclaimed, loosely banging a fist on the table. The self-righteous prick, seemed like he wanted to pick a fight just for the sake of it.

"And who are you, exactly, to say that? The moral police?" I blew up, standing and turning to the blonde man, hands on my hips. "Or you've decided to be my parent without asking me first? Keep your hopes up and maybe a fuck will magically appear, so I could give it to you."

He stood up in turn, getting uncomfortably close to my face. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was a very large, very strong man. "We want what's best for you! Can't you see it?" Rogers was getting red in the face, crossed arms, staring at me down like I was dirt under his shoes.

"How about..." I seethed, having to stop mid-sentence to swallow the scream that wanted to erupt. "How about... You FUCKING ask me what I want?"

"I suggest the Captain leave to go calm down," Loki suddenly piped up. He stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, picking at his food instead. Only after his sharply uttered words I noticed he had stood up. His hand hovered over my shoulder, body discreetly wedging between me and the Captain.

I heard Steve growl before he stormed off, throwing an annoyed look at Loki. A pregnant silence hung in the room. The longer it lasted, the more I wanted to crawl out of my skin, suddenly hyper aware of all these people - strangers, save a few - debating on what to do with me. Like I wasn't a person. Like...

"Ugh, fucking hell," I growled, beelining for my bag. I had definitely overstayed my welcome.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, standing up to follow.

"Home," I replied curtly, nodding my thanks to Loki for the intervention. He nodded back, walking off. I would have probably started swinging at the Icicle Dick if not for the raven haired Asgardian's timely interruption.

"I'll drive you," Banner trotted after me like a dejected puppy. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this, at all.

"I need to see Tony first. Meet you downstairs?"

Bruce nodded, looking even more confused.

Tony kissed me hungrily, in between promises to kill Steve and cancel my dad and get me my own apartment in the tower. Believing in fairy tales wasn't something I was ever prone to; I smiled, nodded along and did my best to shut him up with my own mouth on his. I left with the promise to text him as soon as I got home.

"How are you?" Bruce asked me as we once again drove through the busy city. This was becoming a nice habit but we really had to meet up when I wasn't going through another one of my turmoils.

"All things considered, I am great. Better than I've been in a while." I answered honestly, meaning it. However brief Tony's attention would be, it still satisfied me. Then and there I decided to always, always cherish what happened during my brief stint in his arms.

"Really?" Banner's warm smile was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. "Care to share?"

It threw me for a loop. I didn't know how much Tony wanted to disclose regarding what happened between us. I didn't know the extent of his friendship with Bruce. I didn't know...

"Tony," I choose the usual option. Admit what you can't deny, deny what you can't admit.

"I know the feeling," The good doctor chuckled, companionable-like and meaningful. "He tends to go all the way for the people he cares about. Too much, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" I was confused. Sure, me and Tony were friends. But not, like, super close or anything. We'd fucked, or more like messed around, so I expected our friendship to grow colder. That's what happened when friends decided to bump uglies.

"I mean... He'll move mountains and challenge the government and bully them into dropping charges against you," There was a hint of sadness in Brucie's voice. I vaguely recalled seeing something on the news, something about the Hulk and a massive destruction spree. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

I reached out, putting a hand on his knee. He covered my palm with his own, giving it a brief, warm squeeze.

"It must be great having a friend like that. You're both wonderful and brilliant. You deserve no less," The smile threatened to split my face in two.

Bruce returned the smile but the sadness didn't go away. "You realize that extends to you, right?"

"Me? I'm just me, Bruce." I wasn't sure where this was going. "I'm Peter's classmate and the resident hot mess express."

Bruce frowned, deep and long, up until he parked. Life seemed to be taking back all the happiness it gave me previously-in fucking buckets. The strap of my bag was going to get its threads pulled out with the way I was fiddling with it.

"Baby… Princess?" The scientist turned to me, tone torn somewhere between stern and pleading. "Listen to me. You are brilliant. Incredibly smart, talented and beautiful. Don't ever, ever think of yourself as less than any of us." I gaped at him.

Did he mean us as the Avengers? Us as Tony and Bruce? Meanwhile he continued, "In fact, I think you are the one who deserves so much better. I don't know what Tony found in me… Or what you found in me."

Was the man an idiot or yes? That was the question of the day. Cursing Tony's affinity for small cars (bless me and my own SUV), I only hesitated a moment before grabbing the dumb Banner by his face and startling him into looking straight in my eye. "If you don't quit talking all that fake-ass bullshit, I will kiss you. On the mouth. With tongue."

"Uh," Was his articulate response. I watched him squirm, blush and lose the heat to his argument.

"Exactly. I've had it all with you idiots today. Next time someone says some stupid ass fucking thing, I will kiss them. On the mouth, with tongue. Pass it on," I exhaled, releasing his face and dropping my head onto his shoulder.

"Some way of solving conflict you have," Banner chuckled weakly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'd like to see Steve's reaction."

"A boner, probably, because he needs to get laid before he spontaneously combusts," I grumbled venomously, still bitter about his reaction. The Capsicle needed to chill. Hehe.

"I'll pass it on too," Bruce remarked wryly. "See you next week?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bwucie, you're the fucking best," I kissed the scientist on the cheek, giving him a tighter than usual parting hug and walking up the pathway. Home.

Mother was nowhere to be seen - and the obvious reason for that laid on the kitchen floor. Couple of smashed dishes, a bottle of whiskey laying half-empty in a puddle on the grey tiles. The living room rug bore more stains and the smell of alcohol, bitter and acrid (like my soul, hardy har), hung heavily throughout the whole house.

At least I wasn't the only one who fought for myself that day. Mother probably had landed a good one on dad, too, by God the woman could be ruthless with her icy words. Dad never stood a chance. I've felt begrudgingly respectful of the way mother put people in their place with her words ever since I understood sarcasm.

First things first, I cleaned up the mess and opened the windows a smidge, cranking the air recuperation system to the max. Hanging around a place that smelled like a bum on a good Friday night was a horrible way to spend free time. Having successfully cut myself and bandaged the cuts up, I retreated to my room, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the quiet, stinky, creepy house that my home had become.

My phone was long dead so I plugged it in, waiting for the 2% to appear, turning it on. A few messages from Peter, first cheerful, then worried and then relieved. Tony must've placated the spider child and told him I was staying at the tower. Good call, Tones, or else poor Peter would've worked himself into an anxiety attack and crashed in a dumpster while patrolling. Or something. I still didn't quite get his spider-hero side-gig.

A text from Bruce - rather, a photo, of a disgruntled Steve with his eyebrows raised, titled "I told him the next time he freaks out, you will kiss him. With tongue. Barnes cackled for about ten minutes until he ran out of air."

And a text from Tony. My chest tightened when I opened it. "Good tactics. Sneaky, clever, I'd give it a B+."

I snorted. Then the phone beeped again and I froze. A text ordering me to be ready tomorrow, for a date night? Unreal. I was torn. A part of me was elated, thinking Tony wanted to keep me around like that. The other, more sensible part, was firmly telling me to chill TF down. He'll most likely kindly reject any further intimate interactions, maybe have me sign a few NDAs.

I still answered positive, mushy and cute and all. Feelings aside, I wasn't about to change my texting style for any man. My God, I was turning into a monster. A horribly cheesy, pink, soft, fluffy monster.

The next day, school was nearly unbearable. People talked. Not to my face, of course, since the rumours of me putting away Flash Thompson were still fresh enough for everyone to be cautious around me, but the whispers followed me throughout hallways, tongue in cheek remarks thrown at me from the bathroom stalls, behind the teacher's desks. Did I care? Nope.

Okay, I did, but not in the way one would think. The little spring in my step, a slight smirk. My thoughts were occupied with my upcoming dinner with Tony.

Peter and his pet nerds stood at my side, the ever watchful guards. I had no idea why they decided I needed reassurance or their comfort (I did not), but I had to admit it was cute. MJ, in particular, glared her Death Ray Stare at any male-identifying student that dared to as much as look wrongly in my direction. I mostly ignored the trio. Pete himself did a great job with entertaining his friends, he babbled on as usual, about everything and nothing in particular. Mouth ulcers. He was going to get them one day.

Dad called me during third period, saying he was flying off to California. I would have been lying if I said I didn't know why he scheduled the sudden trip; mother's total radio silence and the absence of her laptop in her own office spoke volumes about the state of my family's affairs. They had a fight and ran off to the opposite ends of the continent. I didn't understand why mother was upset with me, though. I saved her face during dinner at Tony's, so why is she mad about me going to a party with dad? Baffling woman.

Admitting the house felt like home when either of them were absent was hard. Or, perhaps, I felt nothing at all. Spending so much time around the Brady Bunch- the Avengers made me too soft for my own liking. It wasn't just Tony that lived in mind rent-free all the time now; there was Bruce, with his kindness, Bucky with his overgrown teenager attitude, Wanda with her wit and hair that smelled like cheap shampoo - seriously, I absolutely had to show her the benefits of decent hair products. That was just to list the few little quirks. There were so many people, all of them different and wonderful in their own way.

To summarize it, I was both happy for them and bitter for not having any of that to myself. Although it made me kind of glad I didn't have a sibling - looking after someone in the mess that mother and dad created would've been a nightmare. They say it's always a better place where we are not.

I went through a whole pack of cigarettes in a span of a couple of hours. Plagued by strangely melancholic thoughts, trying to push down the anxiety over my upcoming date, my choice of outfit proved to be a cumbersome task while in process.

Expensive but simple dress with spaghetti straps, in my favourite colour. That was the easiest part. A good base for any accessories. Would Tony like it? Would the press make outrageous comments?

Either way, it would. Dad's comments cut deeper than I probably realized it until now; in a sudden bout of self-awareness and a couple of mouse clicks later... Tony wouldn't care. Tony wears suits with sneakers. The Manolos flew back, towards my shoe closet, and a pair of Chanel trainers made their debut. A Hermes 2002 barely weighed down by my wallet, keys and phone. A nice coat, too, appropriately light and so very conceptual and fashionable.

I spent way too much time deciding on what to wear. A stern talking to, however, didn't help me, and I had to redo my make-up - the "nude", "all natural" look was one of the hardest to nail. Or so Marie Claire said. Whatever, my highlighter game was, as usual, on point.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)!

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

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter three: so, maybe i’m not okay

part four of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character

word count: 2.5k (short lil chapter today!)

warnings: mentions of illness? other than that, none that i can think of? maybe the tiniest smidge of angst if you squint

Coraline has always been close to her father. One of her very first memories involved her perched on his shoulders at a Fleetwood Mac gig. He'd managed to sneak Cora, her brother, Daniel, and her heavily pregnant mom side-stage — the perks of him managing the venue at the time, in between jobs — and he'd cried when he'd heard her singing along to his favourite band. The show was all she'd talked about for a solid two weeks. Sure, the memories were a little grainy and probably warped by a crackly VHS tape of her mother's that she used to watch almost every day, but they were memories she held onto it as tightly as she could.

It was her father who took her first (dreadful) headshots, and him who she'd turned to when her sister died, and him who'd persuaded her that leaving everything and everyone she knew and loved back in Michigan to settle down in California (and then, later, D.C.) was a good idea. She owes her dad a lot, which is why the phone call has been playing on her mind all day.

The call came at 3am. She'd only fallen asleep two hours earlier, after Loren had arrived to pick up Maisie an hour late, hair a mess and rushing to apologise. Marcus had left a little while later and she'd practically collapsed into bed a few minutes later. She'd been woken by the low humming of her phone vibrating against her bedside table as it shot light through her dimly lit bedroom. She'd groaned uncomfortably and reached for it, cheek wedged awkwardly between her pillows and the mattress and legs tangled wildly in the sheets (Scott had always said she wriggled a lot in her sleep, but she'd always assumed he was exaggerating, until she slept alone).

She'd scowled when she'd seen it was her dad; he knew her schedule, and she'd told him she was up early when they'd spoken earlier that day. He never rings her late and it takes a moment for the frustration of being woken early by her phone to bleed away into worry and concern.

"Hello?" She'd croaked our groggily. "Are you okay? Is mom okay?"

She'd been met with a chuckle. His voice was low and gruff when it came, unusually thick and strangled. "Hey, Corrie." There was shuffling on the other end, hushed voices floating in and out of focus, until the phone went silent enough to think that maybe he'd hung up and hadn't meant to disturb her at all.

She'd scowled but her phone assured her he was still on the line. "Dad?" She'd called out to him. The panic had begun to rise when it wasn't his voice that replied.

"Coraline," her mother's soft voice breathed out. It was like a sigh of relief. "Sorry to bother you." Her French accent tipped the corner of her words. It always got stronger when she was upset or worried or scared, and it was especially thick now.

"What's wrong?"

Another pause. "Your father is in the hospital."

"What?" She’s suddenly holy upright, fear turning her blood to ice.

"He's fine, don't worry." She'd assured her. "He’s had some problems with his breathing again. They're doing some tests."

She'd almost booked a flight back to Michigan, almost abandoned filming and ran back home to make sure her dad was okay. The last time he'd been in hospital, it had been touch and go, and they'd spent an entire day huddled at his bedside in fear, just in case he'd stopped breathing. It was touch and go, and she couldn't live with herself if the worst happened and she never got to say goodbye to the man she owed so much to. She'd been in the process of scanning over the next flights on her laptop when her dad had taken the phone back from her mom and practically demanded that she stay in D.C.

Eventually, she'd relented. He'd promised to update her and she'd told them she loved them both before hanging up. But the phone call had sent her entire day into a tailspin.

She’d tried to sleep the extra hour and a half before she had to haul herself to work but her mind was running too wild for that. Even despite the reassurances, worry was plaguing her thoughts and panic was forcing her eyes open. Everything was just too much.

The last time it had happened, she'd had Scott. It was back when things were good, and he'd held her as she'd finally fallen asleep, curled up against him in an uncomfortable hospital chair.

But, now, he’s gone. Now, then, she was stood on set alone, trying her best to bite back a yawn and the tears, with so much concealer hiding the dark circles under her eyes that she can feel it clinging desperately to her skin. And, of course, life had picked the day when they had the most action scenes to film to deprive her of sleep.

Her entire body ached. She isn't sure how she's still standing after the first hour of work, with her legs protesting with every movement. Two hours of sleep and the running and the jumping and the endless stunts had sapped every last scrap of energy from her bones. She'd carried on stoically for most of the morning but she's truly never been more grateful for a lunch hour before, when she finds herself curled up against the couch in her trailer, passing out even despite the panic still swelling in her chest. She'd been surprised when she hadn't cried — maybe she was just too exhausted and her body simply couldn't muster the tears — but she's grateful she manages to keep the tears in because she doesn't want to haul herself back to set with mascara tears on her cheeks.

She’s even more grateful when she makes it home after a day that feels like five rolled into one and the scattered couch cushions look far too inviting for her to ignore.

It's an uncomfortable sleep and she wakes with the beginnings of a headache thrumming through her skull and a stiffness in her spine that she can't seem to straighten out. She's not sure how long she's managed to sleep — barely half an hour, she assumes — because she's woken by a soft knock on the door instead of the alarm she'd set on her phone. It wakes her with a jolt and she can't help but groan at the aching protests her limbs give when she stands. She shuffles across the apartment to the door and Marcus is stood there, smiling, his suit jacket and tie draped across his arm.

She's half dressed too - only he looks a damn sight better than she does, because his hair isn't dishevelled and messy and his shirt isn't twisted half way around his torso. She shouldn't have slept in her clothes but at least she had the hindsight to take off the stiff jeans. Except, now, she’s startlingly aware she’s standing before Marcus in nothing but her underwear and an unforgivably tight tank top.

"Good evening, Sunshine." He grins, that smile that makes her think that maybe he should be the one she called 'Sunshine'. "I brought you coffee." An odd offering at nine on a Wednesday evening but she’d been complaining, via text, about the lack of quality caffeine all day. Marcus offers her a polystyrene takeout cup as he steps inside.

"Lifesaver," she mumbles as she grabs it by the flimsy top and shuffles towards the kitchen to pour it into her unused Death Cab for Cutie mug — the mug her brother bought her three birthdays ago — and sips on the coffee. It's far too hot but she doesn't care; she needs the caffeine just to keep her eyes open. She grabs the blanket that she’s been sleeping under and wraps it around her waist, hyper-aware that she’s still wandering around in her underwear. She’s almost too tired to care.

"Are you okay?" It’s almost like he can tell. Though, she’s sure it probably has something to do with the dark bags beneath her eyes. She’s sure it probably looks like she’s been punched square in the face.

She shrugs. "I'll be fine. 'm just tired," She hums. Coraline slumps back against the couch cushions, pulls a thick blanket back over her body and lets her eyes flutter shut again. She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Bad night sleep?" There’s bags and piles of fresh laundry piled on the chair he usually sits on, a product of Coraline’s half-hearted attempt at productivity. Instead, he resigns and sits down beside her at the opposite end of the couch, lifting her legs absentmindedly to rest in his lap, sipping on his own drink, and smiling at her sympathetically as she stifles a yawn against the back of her hand.

Her eyes drag towards him when she opens them again. They rest on his face, studying everything from the softness of his brow and the curve of his prominent nose, to the scattering of facial hair that dances across his jaw, small patches of grey poking through at the edges. She’s glad he kept it after whatever undercover work he’d been assigned to before they’d even met. "If I tell you it was the worst night sleep I'd ever had, in my entire life, would that make me sound dramatic?"

"You? Dramatic?" Marcus scoffs and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. His free hand rests on her leg; he draws patterns against her skin but she’s not even sure he realises he’s doing it. "Never."

“Shut up.” Coraline glares at him but smiles, regardless. "Well, I think I'm allowed a pass today."

His face falls at her words. "What happened?"

She sighs and takes a hand through her hair. "My dad-" She eyes him as he watches her intently, brown eyes soft and comforting. "-he's ill again."

Cora had told him about her dad's illness, about how she worried he'd wind up back there again, in the hospital, that things would be worse this time. He'd listened to her like what he was saying was the most important thing in the world and she'd almost cried when he'd held her in a hug a little longer than usual. It was that night that she’d tried to ask him about his past; she wasn’t sure if he was trying to avoid telling her because he didn’t trust her or because it held things he didn’t want to relive. She half-hoped it was the latter, but she hated to think that he might be bottling things up, things he didn’t want her to know or didn’t feel comfortable sharing.

She wishes he’d tell her things. She’ll understand, no matter what it was. She’ll listen, like he does to her, for as long as he needs, as long as he wants.

It’s almost comical how different they are in that sense. Marcus is reserved, closed off, but in way that doesn’t suit him. It’s like whatever exists there, whatever memories lingered, had been withered by sadness, by something or someone, until there’s a barrier guarding his secrets and story that he hasn’t meant to build. She sees the softness in his eyes when she tells him her stories or shares her fears, like his heart is aching to spill the details of his past. Like he can’t let it out. It works for his job — undercover work, secrets, classified information — but somehow it doesn’t suit the smile and the softness of his words as he illuminates Coraline’s darkness.

Coraline, on the other hand, finds her words spilling from her chest before she can even hold them back. She’s not sure if it’s just him — the reassuring smiles, the soft brush of a hand, the gentle voice — but they pour from her at an almost embarrassing speed, like a waterfall of words cascading at regrettable speed. She’s not even entirely sure that she won’t spill her secrets to the next stranger in the street who offers her a smile. But that works for her job; people prying, picking her apart like vultures, scavengers of information found tucked away out of reach. It’s the worst part of the job description, to expect someone to know every detail of your private life, but she often thinks she’s open enough to sate them, until they leave her alone at last.

On paper, they make no sense. Jobs, the polar opposite, necessary privacy mixed with relentless publicity. Open and closed doors. But Coraline thinks, perhaps, that’s why they work. It balances them both out.

Marcus reaches over and catches her hand in his. There's barely any space between them because of the way they’re sat, with her feet prodding at his knees. "I'm sorry, Cora," he whispers, his thumb running over her knuckles softly.

After a shaky smile, gazes locked for maybe a little too long, Coraline stands up and smooths out her shirt. As much as she appreciates it, and appreciates him, she doesn't want to cry. Not today. "It'll be okay." She scrapes her thumb under her eyes, brushing away the black smudges that she's sure have formed underneath her eyes, and finishes the last of her coffee. "Everything will be okay."

Cora isn't entirely sure she believes that.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x original character #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader

[luliqwq]

I-I wrote a Trolls fanfic to practise my English

So sorry if I wrote something wrong, I-I hope you like it.

References:

⛈ - Branch

🌈 - Poppy

He was very sad, he didn't know what to do with his thoughts, it was a rainy night, so he decided to stay in the Bunker instead of going out to the river that he goes when he's sad. Everything was so quiet, and his thoughts were too loud, so he was having a very bad night, even we can call it a "blue night", because he wasn't sad... he was blue, which is worse.

He was writing a poem to try to calm down his mind, but he started to feel frustrated about what he was writing, he felt that it wasn't enough.

He throw the poem to the floor and started to step in it a hundred times strongly.

⛈💢- THIS IS STUPID!- He screamed, maybe a little more loud than he had to, maybe... very loud.

He was frustrated, he was distressed, he was everything but happy. He hates himself in this moment, because his friends did make him happy, they did a lot for him, and now he's sad again. His colors went greyish again, but at least not as much as before. His ears were drop, like dog's.

He growled softly at himself, and let one tear pass by his cheek, the drop get to the floor, and then... he broke, he started to cry a lot, he was being selfish because his friends did the impossible to help him, and he's still sad. Or at least is what he thought.

Poppy heard something weird, like... if someone was crying, she was worried, who could it be?, in all the Troll Village, that is known because its happiness, who could be crying? She began to run to the way where the crying started. She discovered that was Branch's Bunker, she left his ears drop a little, she was worried for him, she wanted to see him happy.

She entered there, without making a single sound, then she hide a bit to see him, who was crying very badly, she felt bad for him, she wanted to do something.

Branch was angry at himself, and now not just because his grandmother, now the fault feeling of can't be happy all the time like the others is present. He kneeled, and covered his eyes, maybe nobody would hear him now, at least is what he thought.

Poppy left her hide, and aproach him, very slowly.

🌈💧- Branch- She murmured, with a soft voice.

🌈💧💬- Hear me out, I... heard you, and... I wanted to help you, you seem... grey- She pet his hair, seeing that it wasn't purple like before.

⛈🌀- You can't understand it, Poppy- He rolled his eyes, then he frowned.

🌈💬- M-Maybe I don't- She said, looking down, with his eyebrows a little down.

🌈💬✨- But I'll try to help you, you're my friend after all- She gave him a smile, a very pure one.

He sighed.

⛈🌀💢- Fine... I can't stand myself, I mean, you guys did everything to make me happy, and... and... and I can't- He let two more revel tears drop to the floor.

🌈💧- Branch, it's okay to be sad, even I was sad one time, do you remember?- She asked softly.

🌈✨💞- Come on, little guy, give me a hug- She smiled again, opening her arms.

Branch saw her, he was very unconfortable, but, he needed it, so he hugged her. He did a very little smile, but a very pure one.

He was very grateful to have friends like Poppy, Biggie, Cooper, Satin, Chenille, Smidge, Guy Diamond, DJ Suki, like all of them. They're his best friends, and they try to make him happy even in his rainy days.

He loves them all.

- NO SHIP RELATED, PLS, THEY'RE BFFS, I LOVE THEM LIKE A SUPPORTIVE BROTP, THX -

#Trolls #Dreamworks Trolls #Branch #Poppy #Smidge #Stain #Chenille #DJ Suki #Guy Diamond #Cooper #Biggie #Please don't tag as ship #My fanfic