#darcy is a bit of an exhibitionist

[zephrbabe]

The Prospect of Discovery

Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow, College AU

Rated E for: public sex, library sex, safe sex

Word Count: 828

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“Hurry up, man,” Jack hissed from the end of the stack, just out of sight. Nearby and also out of sight, Barnes snorted, probably not even looking up from texting his boyfriend.

Brock readjusted his grip on his girl’s hips, and tugged her back onto his dick. Darcy gasped a low “yes!” and pushed back onto him. She braced against the bookshelf, slamming them together on every thrust. He sped up. They didn't have long until the lunch rush of students getting a little  quiet time for studying and homework made illicit fucking in the library impossible.

Her pussy was making a filthy wet noise every time he pulled out, audible in the hush of the library. If Brock reached down right now, Darcy’s cream would be slippery all down her thighs. She liked the risk of getting caught, liked the thrill of breaking the rules, liked looking the sweet young co-ed but having her naughty little secrets.

Brock liked her naughty little secrets, too, especially when it meant he got his dick wet in the middle of the day. He liked the dazed little smile on her face when they went back to class, too, knowing she’d think of him every time she shifted in her seat.

Fuck, he needed her to come; he was too close.

Reaching down, finding her pussy as slippery as he’d predicted, Brock flattened his fingers over the top of her pussy, and rubbed. He was probably touching her clit. He knew she liked it when he licked her there, anyway.

Darcy’s “Auh!” was loud in the quiet of the library. The thought of being caught prickled up Brock’s spine. Coach Pierce would have his nuts if Brock got written up for bad behavior again.

“Gotta keep quiet, babe,” he breathed into her hair. He drew out his thrusts, hilting himself hard enough to give her something to remember later. “Wouldn’t want Rollins to come over here and see what all the noises are-” He grinned to himself, struck by a new thought. “Wouldn’t want him to ask for a turn.”

Under him, Darcy gasped and tensed up. Brock immediately regretted running his mouth, and shit, now she was gonna tell him to piss off and leave him with no girlfriend and his pants around his knees.

Before he could start apologizing, Darcy’s whole body rippled. Her pussy clamped down on his dick, tighter than a fist. Her moan was high and sharp, though she managed to muffle it in her arm.

Holy shit, she was into that?

He was gonna nut any second, Darcy was so fucking hot. And her pussy was still squeezing him, damn. Brock could feel the tightness in his balls, the tingle at the base of his spine.

Barnes whistled from the far aisle. “Incoming!”

“Shit!” Darcy jerked forward, dislodging Brock and leaving him stumbling. She glanced at him as she rushed to fix her clothing. “Put your dick away, asshole! You’re gonna get us both busted!”

This could not get back to Coach Pierce; the shot of fear cleared Brock’s head.

Brock jerked his jeans up and jammed himself back into his boxers, condom and all. He bit his lips as the teeth of his zipper caught on his delicate dick skin. Darcy was panting as she yanked her oversized sweater down over her leggings.

They righted themselves just in time for an oblivious freshman to round the corner, nose deep in a textbook. She glanced at them, but didn’t seem to notice how rumpled and breathy they both were. Brock wiped his wet fingers on the leg of his jeans.

Brock and Darcy hustled out of the row on Rollins’ side, and Jack fell into step with them, laughing under his breath. Barnes, in true Barnes fashion, was nowhere to be seen. He’d fucked off the second he discharged his bro duty. Brock thought Barnes might be a little jealous of Darcy.

But Brock thought everybody was jealous of Darcy, or jealous of him, having Darcy.

Backpack slung over her shoulder, Darcy was striding out of the library. Her legs were short, but Brock was hobbled by his hard-on, and it took effort to keep up with her. Maybe he could convince her to suck him off in the gender neutral bathroom by the library entrance. He really wanted to come, and Darcy was always appreciative after an orgasm like that.

Brock tugged her close with an arm over her shoulders, that little pleased grin on her plush pink lips. He saw her glance over at Rollins on his other side, slow and not as surreptitious as she thought.

Brock caught her eye, and Darcy blushed. “Yeah?”

She glanced at Jack again and licked her lips, glossy and a little bitten from muffling herself earlier. “Yeah.”

Eyeing Rollins himself, Brock didn’t miss the slight hitch in his friend’s step, or how he was carrying his team jacket modestly over his crotch.

He grinned.

“Hey Jack-”

[melifair]

So what's your kinkiest Shieldshock headcanon?

Hmmmm, I’m not sure???

(Also, I just saw this, so if this was from a while ago, I’m very sorry!!!! Some asks aren’t coming through on mobile, but are coming through web view?)

So, as far as kinkiest, I’m not even sure what it the kinkiest thing for me lol! I’m not sexually experience at all, so I’m learning from the ground up if you will. 

I do think that Darcy perhaps gets frustrated if Steve is too gentle, sometimes it turns her on to just see him let go without fear of hurting her. 

Steve might be a bit of an exhibitionist. Because he can be a bit mischievous, so it’s a thrill for him and he gets really turned on by it. 

They both are open to try new things, but it sometimes takes a while to initially bring up something they are interested in. Steve is a naturally curious person and he’s very interested in her toys ;)

Darcy also likes to see him pleasure himself. She likes seeing him completely uninhibited.

I dunno, just in my headspace, my version of kinky may be different from yours. My head canons reflect what I’m comfortable with and what I know, especially as a virgin lol

[ohstardust]

A Perfect Catastrophic Harmony

REQUEST: from @outofworkactress I'm bombarding you now but please don't feel pressured, let your work do the talking. Maybe one where y/n and her friends are around England, and showing her round & her friends see she's taken notice in Ni and NI's friends notice he's taken an interest in the "loud American" and they plan to shove them together, by naturally sitting together and embarrassing them until they talk XO A/N: I hope this is good enough for you angel, I’m sorry it’s not better but hopefully cheeky Ni makes up for it (and isn’t too OOC). Title: Someone’s Disaster by Beach Weather My Aneurin playlist can be found on Spotify (this is what I listen to when I write about him and songs that are featured in fics about him) (x)

“Now you’re here love, you’ve gotta meet the guys, you’ll love them and vice versa,” Anna, Y/N’s friend, gushed. The American girl had been in the country no more than five hours and truth be told, whilst she loved her friends, she just wanted to sleep. “We’ve filled ‘em in on all the best bits of you,” Darcy smirked, her perfectly filled in eyebrow quirking.

“I don’t even wanna know what you’ve told them,” she groaned, the amount of dirt her friends had on her was borderline criminal for the short time she’d spent with them and she wasn’t sure just how their other friends would take her depending on what they did or didn’t know. She began bracing herself for the worst. “Now now, would we ever spill your darkest secrets?” Rhian feigned shock and innocence, mouth agape in mock offence as she raised a hand to her chest. Y/N continuously blinked for a few moments and pursed her lips, “Yes, yes you absolutely would.” “Rude.”

It felt incredibly strange to be back in London, six years had passed since she’d last been there and whilst a lot had remained the same, a lot had also changed and it was almost like visiting a new city. New businesses overtaking buildings she’d once frequented as a student, skyscraper office blocks replacing old cinemas and baron plots, but the longing and nostalgia reminded her of what was once there and she felt home again. She’d spent a mere four months in the city during her semester abroad, an eager and bright eyed young girl falling in love with the capital and everything it had to offer. Nothing quite compared to the friends she’d made there though, three people that she still called her best friends to this day, three people that stuck by her despite being a whole ocean apart. Darcy was born and bred in the East End of London, just on the outskirts of Shoreditch and prided herself on her geographical heritage. She came complete with a dry sense of humour and the most ridiculous slang that most of the time no one had a clue what she was banging on about. Rhian hailed from the Welsh town of Bridgend, one minute she was the quietest person in the room with little to say, the next minute she was the centre of attention and she bloody loved it. Anna was the Northern group member from just outside of Manchester, she was petite, quieter than her friends but hysterical once you got a few drinks down her and came out with the most ridiculous rubbish. Definitely the mum friend who talks like an eighty-three year old. Their differences were what kept them friends for so long, they all offered something different to the group and rounded each other off, there was never a dull moment and always so much to talk about it. It was refreshing to have a mixture of personalities and backgrounds compared to her friends back home who didn’t really feel like friends. “Oh would you bloody look at that, you’re early for the first time in your entire life,” Rhian teased as she opened to door to the four guys, one of which she’d known since she was kid back home in Wales. “It was bound to ‘appen some time.” Aneurin grinned as he pulled the girl in for a hug, pecking her cheek and stepping forward into the house that the three girls shared. Y/N had heard all about the infamous ‘lads’, many stories shared over time, the mischief and hilarity they got up to and how all round nice they actually were, despite the odd bravado they showed. She wouldn’t admit to anyone but herself just how nervous she was to meet them, she had no clue what they looked like, only names and stories to build a picture in her mind. There was a loud chorus of cheers and hugs from the living room and Y/N began to worry for a moment that she was going to feel a little left out, being the odd one amongst the group. But as soon as Ni had hugged Anna, he turned to the American girl, smiling and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her forward. “Hiya Y/N, good to finally put a face to the name,” her stomach fluttered a little and swooped, feeling ridiculous at the reaction because she absolutely could not like a boy whilst on vacation. No matter how cute or Welsh, or pleasant he was. Cute didn’t even cut it. “Likewise, I’ve heard so much about you guys!” the other boys all fought forward to embrace her and introduce themselves and she was only slightly overwhelmed by the response.

The night progressed in a flurry of stories, photos, getting acquainted and most importantly, gaining new friends. She’d pretty much fallen in love with all the lads, they were so friendly and funny and she knew they’d get along famously. But now she really needed to work hard to stop looking at Aneurin.

The following day the group arranged to meet up again, it was pretty evident at this point that it would be a regular occurrence to hang out whilst she was in the country, not that she particularly minded. Her and the girls had spent a fair portion of the day exploring the area, lunching together and enjoying each other’s company. The more time she spent there, the more in love she fell with the city again, and the more she just wanted to stay there forever. “So, what did you think of our dear little Ni then?” Y/N coughed into her wine glass, her cheeks colouring in embarrassment and fear of being caught out by Rhian. “He’s nice, they all are, super sweet guys,” Rhian, Darcy & Anna all glanced at each, a smirk residing on their faces knowingly. “Uh huh,” Y/N frowned at them in confusion, playing dumb, so sure she’d not been that transparent. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when they let the subject slide by, bringing a new topic to the table that led away from her and her almost non-existent love life.

“Yes I’m loud, yes I’m American, but don’t ya think it’s kinda endearing?” “YES!” the group cheered, raising they glasses in a toast and Y/N laughed raucously, snorting at the spectacle they were making, the eyes of other tables occupants falling upon them. “Shut up!” she grinned, trying to hush them and stop the stares. “To loud American’s!” John raised his glass to toast again, his friends rolled their eyes but clinked their glasses together regardless with a chorus of here here’s. “To friends old, and new.” They repeated the motion and cooed, grinning at each member of their group in turn, the sentiment more sincere. John, Anna and Rich headed over the bar once their glasses were drained, replenishing them for another round of whatever debauchery would ensue. The remainder of the group shuffled around the booth to let Darcy out to hit the bathroom, leaving Ni to sit back down beside Y/N. She caught sight of Rhian grinning over her glass, eyes quickly averting when she met the other girls gaze.  If she’d been thinking a little clearer, perhaps she would have realised her friends plotting to have the pair sat together, to have them conversing and becoming closer with one another. Something they’d been rather intent on doing all week. As much as she wanted to throw caution to the wind, she was so worried about becoming too close to everyone, so aware that she’d still have to leave in nine days. They’d all spent so much time together as the week has progressed and the lump in her throat felt almost consistent at this point. But she tried to not let that thought phase her, whatever happens happens, at least she’d have this trip and her memories to look back on. “I honestly don’t know why I’m still friends him, as a child he ran around my back garden naked far too many times to actually want to even know him still,” Ni looked more proud than embarrassed at the tale Rhian was recounting, nodding in confirmation. “Oh, an exhibitionist baby were ya?” Y/N turned to face the man beside her and grinned. He smirked and leant closer to her ear, “Weren’t we all love, shame I didn’t know you back then.” Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she tried to suppress a wide smile, her eyes twinkling at how bold this sweet man had become, not for one minute had she anticipated he’d say such a thing. She hadn’t been warned about this coy, and coquettish side of him, and it caught her off guard but as someone well experienced in flirting, she was quick to retaliate and humour him. “You know me now.” His eyes widened slightly, not sure what response he was hoping to gain, he hadn’t expected to become that confident to begin with. “Lucky me, do I get to take you out on a date first?” he began to look doubtful, his usual innocence and insecurity starting to cloud his judgement and his thoughts, his head dropped as he felt foolish for asking. Her hand came out to cup his chin, lifting his head to look at her, “are you free tomorrow? You can have me for the whole day.” His face lit up as he nodded and her heart clenched, he was so unfairly beautiful and she decided that she wanted him to look at her that way for as long as possible.

[octoberwren]

If it’s words you seek (I’ll Remember You)

Summary: Darcy Lewis is many things, avoidance expert, current holder of the Hydra Survivor Cup and not to boast but she's at an expert level with self defense in sarcasm and shiny wit.

What she's absolutely not is Steve Rogers Soulmate, she doesn't give a flying monkey what the universe is trying to tell her with the gifts she's recently acquired, i.e Reading His Mind and other tricks that have to do with The Good Captain.

Her and Steve? Pffft, that's never gonna happen.

I’m back for the Steve X Darcy fandom. Yay? Seriously though all of you have been so lovely that I had to write some more. And achievement (or disaster waiting to happen?) It’s my second mult-chapter in years. So super nervous. I got this odd idea and I had to run with it. I’m a lover of angst and a good slow burn so buckle your seatbelts kids, it’s about to get rough.

As always thank you for your continued support in my writing, your guys comments always give me a confidence boost, so this is a really for you. You guys inspire me

A heads up though, Darcy has been in the hands of Hydra for 3 years so there will be mentions of that, incase it’s not your cup of tea, also naughty language galore.

Onwards then! Much love Dolls, I love ya to bits! Thanks for reading! Also if you want me to tag you for this story please let me know! I love things like that.

I’m tagging @shieldshockfanfic because admin got me into this downward spiral and I’m handing over any blame. 

(I own nothing, marvel owns me.)

You can also read it on Ao3 if that pleases you!

Chapter one: Fairy Tales are for Chumps.

It’s been three years and spare change since Darcy went missing.

Today she’s been found.

…Sort of, she’s been found adjacent, found-ish,

The heroes didn’t exactly storm the castle to find her. (Those things only happen in Fairy Tales and if Darcy has learned anything from captivity it’s that Fairy Tales are for chumps.)

So being rescued is slightly exaggerating, she’s actually really lost, and not to be dramatic or anything, but she also feels like she’s going to die, on account of some bullet wounds and some broken ribs that are calling her an asshole.

She’s also trying like super duper hard to not go into shock and or hysterics, because the streets are so loud it’s overwhelming, she hasn’t heard this much noise is so long and it’s frankly grating on her last nerve that hasn’t been shot at, she’d say she’s sort of missing her cell right about now, but then Darcy would be a lying liar that lied, it’s heavily implied though.

Good thing the New Yorkers are giving her a wide berth to work with as she’s stumbling and clasping to shop windows and walls. But that’s probably more to do with her hospital gown being blood drenched and her dirty bare feet, than any amount of politeness they have for her. They look at her with wide unbelieving eyes, she must have looked liked the dead walking and not in an awesome costume kind of way, in a scarred for life kind of way.

She feels scarred for life, so there’s that.

Honestly, the city has seen aliens coming out of thin air to bring the world to an early apocalypse, but she’s the weird one? Yeah, okay assholes. Thanks for the help.

Darcy knows that Jane isn’t in the Avengers tower she’s seen it, but fuck knows where the compound is, her ‘gift’ hasn’t exactly given her any information she could use. It would have been a big help if the man’s eyes she saw out of, looked at an address to- Thor forbid- help her. But no, she’s just been an unwilling exhibitionist all these years.

Her grip slips and she hits her knees hard, falling into an alley and apparently garbage, if the smell is anything to go by. She’s laughing so hard, that her ribs are screaming at her to cut that shit out, but she declines to comment.

Because wouldn’t this be the cherry that tops the fucking cake on her crap-tastic day, not only is she sure blood loss is really a factor now, but she’s nowhere near close to finding her best friend, she’s a big girl and Darcy will freely admit that she desperately needs a hug right now.

After everything that happened, after everything she had done…

This is how it all ends, thrown out like trash, she tries to get up, she really does because she wants to see Jane, are her and Thor married yet, has she invented more crazy things? Darcy wants to know all that and infinitely more, so she tries getting up one more time, using all the willpower and stubbornness that had helped her survive this long. But when her knees buckle and her breath catches across her lungs, she feels the black despair wash over her.

Darcy isn’t laughing now, she’s far beyond that, she’s sobbing, ugly tears that her mother would be ashamed of, Darcy dear, no one likes an ugly crier, how do you think your Soulmate will feel if he found that out?

Her mother’s words ring in her mud feeling mind and it only leads her to think of her actual soulmate, because she’s sure he wouldn’t care how she looked like when she cried, not because he loved her exactly the way she was, no, that would be far too easy, and the universe liked to kick her in the balls.

He didn’t remember her, let alone know what she looked like while she cried, so suck it Mom.

Darcy knew he couldn’t know her face from a crowd because she saw it, fate was a bitch and so was Hydra. All those pain induced experiments didn’t make her a weapon, it made her the number one expert on their most wanted; Captain America.

She looked through the world with his eyes, she felt his emotions, and Hydra thrilled that they knew before he did, Steve Rogers had a soulmate and he didn’t even remember her, they never let her forget that little nugget, that more than all the torture almost killed her, that she was lost among the many faces of everyone he had met.

Darcy saw the moment the girl with a toothy smile and hand delivered coffee slipped his mind, she felt the moment she vanished like smoke as another world ending situation weighed on his shoulders.

Darcy’s blood was pooling around her, just another gory site in the alley, and she had the fleeting thought of Steve and how wide his eyes would go if she had ever said a word to him. Oh she knew what his words were, they were tattooed on the skin above her heart. It was enough for her to know fate got it wrong. So she never said a thing, Darcy just loved him for afar, trying to make his life just a little bit better.

She was bit bitter, a wet laugh escaped her, along with more blood staining her lips, how she was still producing more red to this mes, Darcy had no clue.

Her only dying regret was that she couldn’t extinguish the love she had for him, even now, she hoped that he would run into the light and smile at her for the first and last time, because she was a sappy fool.

But no one came, she was all alone as she fell listlessly to the side, her last conscious thought was that Fairy Tales were honestly the very, very worst.

She wished it was like in the books, waking up after a harrowing experience in a hospital would have been nice or at least a qualified doctor would be at the top of her list, call her a snob.

But no, she didn’t even get the good drugs, what she got was all the fucking pain, that had her bolting up while Clint-fucking-asshole-Barton, dug a bullet out of her leg while Natasha-I’m-not-calling-her-a-name-she-could-kill-me-Romanov, shoved a cloth into Darcy’s mouth and pushed her back down. Also, she was in a moving vehicle, so the cloth was probably a good idea seeing as she was trying not to throw up.

“Mmmffffffkkk!”She was cussing though, it helped with the burning agony and no up chuck problem.

The Black Widow on the other hand looked cool as a cucumber and just stared at her calmly while Darcy screamed like a banshee, her voice was indifferent when she said, “Darcy, you have to stay calm or we might hit an artery.” like this was a normal day.

It probably, totally, was to her, Darcy on the other hand ignored the pain for a split second to look at the Avenger like she was bat shit insane.

Natasha just smirked, which didn’t exactly help Darcy with thinking she wasn’t two bullets short of a clip.

“Got it.” Barton’s deep voice sounded like it came from under water, “Next up, the chest.” and thankfully Darcy lost consciousnesses after that.

The second-less painful-time she woke up it was in a bed and if she didn’t feel like absolute shit, she might have appreciated the softness of it. But she did feel like shit so, call her ungrateful.

“You’re awake.” An unknown feminine voice came from her left and Darcy’s heart spiked with adrenalin and a unhealthy dose of fear ran through her, too late to stop it, too late to try to calm down to stop the-

“What do you mean you brought someone in? That’s against protocol and you know it Romanov. Bringing in a stranger puts all our lives at risk.” So much anger and frustration, Darcy drowned in it, and underneath it all worry as Steve stared at Natasha, who lifted an eyebrow that had made lesser men piss their pants, she couldn’t see it but Darcy was fairly certain The Captain only frowned harder at the action.

“She’s not a stranger,” Natasha said slowly, as if she was talking to a moron, “it’s Darcy, Steve. Darcy Lewis who doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

But Darcy could feel Steve’s unyielding mind, it had been one of the things she had always adored about Steve. He always stood up for what he believed, no matter the consequence, he did what was right, she just never thought in a billion years that she would be considered wrong in his head. Well no that wasn’t true, wasn’t that why she never said a word to him, the very reason she never said his words? She knew, deep down, he’d hate what he saw. Give her a prize then, looks like Darcy hit the nail on her coffin.

“You know that for sure do you? Alright, so where has she been for who knows how long?” Steve said in an accusing tone and Darcy wanted out, she wanted to leave this fucked up vision, she wanted out of his head right the fuck now.

She could feel the pressure of trying to break free, her brain felt to tight, but she wasn’t giving up. It didn’t matter that it never worked before, she’d make it work, Darcy was screaming inside his head to let her go, but just like every time before, Steve didn’t even flinch.

“It’s been three years Steve and by the look of her I’d say she was captured.” Natasha was a smart woman, and with her words came a red haze of rage that Darcy only felt a few times being linked to Steve.

“Yeah and you know what else happened three years ago Natasha?” He didn’t let her respond, he cut her off while he gritted out through clenched teeth and black swirling anger, “Hydra. So that can only mean one of two things. Either she’s been compromised or she’s been a sleeper agent all along. So forgive me if I don’t trust her, there are kids here, I won’t risk it.”

Her mind snapped free with those cutting words, while the woman who had started all this was bending over her trying to inject her with something. Whatever it was Darcy was not going to find out. She pushed the doctor out of her way and the other woman gasped and tumbled down, she had a momentary feeling of guilt but it was overshadowed by the panic and fear swimming in her veins.

She jumped out of the bed and made a run for it, Darcy didn’t care that her body protested the movement, she gave no flying monkey fucks that she could feels stitches popping and blood dripping down her skin. She needed to put as much distance between herself and that self-righteous jackass, no matter how her body paid the price. She had been through worse.

She slammed the door open and ended up in a hallway, fifty-fifty shot, the left showed more doors and a bigger possibility of getting caught, the right had a clear shot of the kitchen, which Thor willing had a back door.

Left it was then, may the odds ever be in her favour.

They were not, of course they weren’t. The universe, her? Pfft. Those odds were never going to be in her favour.

Darcy stopped dead as she entered the kitchen only to see two kids drawing at the dinner table, past them she spotted a large window and next to that was the holy grail, a front door.

The boy who looked around seven dropped his crayon with a wide mouth, the girl who looked younger pointed at her in fascinated horror, Darcy was 99% positive she was offended by the crazy ladies wild looking hair.

“Hey,” Darcy croaked trying to seem less threatening, but by the squeaking of their chairs as they moved backwards, far away from her, she felt like she may have failed, miserably.

“I’m just ganna,” she pointed to the door while moving slowly around them, still trying not to frighten small children, “If you could keep this just between us, that would be awesome sauce.” The boy nodded so fast his blonde hair shook at the action, while his sister (Darcy was guessing they were related or Steve and Natasha had opened up a daycare, which was amusing to think about actually,) kicked him under the table while shaking her head in the negative, vehemently.

Whelp, so much for a united front, “Cute picture, I like dragons.” She was still moving at a snail's pace and Darcy was really getting jittery, but the little boy smiled so brightly at her compliment, showing all gums and two missing teeth, that she almost didn’t care that she was a hair breadth away from getting caught. She sorta melted inside, and it was such a pure feeling, it made her feel warm and a little happy, an emotion that was sorely lacking in her life.

She almost considered sitting her butt down with the children and drawing a picture, she would have done it years ago, but the girl stretched her mouth open, and all Darcy’s warm feelings vanished.

“Uncle Steve!” The girl screeched like an opera singer, but Darcy was already running and swearing, “The lady said a bad words, swear jar, swear jar!”

Damn little Gremlins.

She finally made it to the door and pushed it open, the wood of the front porch banged against her feet and Darcy jumped the stairs leading to freedom, she absorbed the impact when she landed on the ground even when it sent a shock waves across her legs and her bullet wound was not thanking her as she ran through the yard.

But this was it, she was free from stupid damn soulmates and tattling children, she could taste the rest of her life, without worry, screw the pain of a few injuries.

The silhouette that jumped from a fucking tree almost had her wishing she didn’t leave her stolen gun behind in the flaming building that was her prison, but Bucky Barnes would live another day as she barely dodged him.

Not fast enough for a second guy to launch himself from the bushes (what the ever loving shit were they doing? Playing hide and seek?) and grab her elbow forcefully pulling her to a screeching halt.  

“You got her Sam?” An eerie familiar voice said from behind her and it had been forever that Darcy had heard that deep voice live and in stereo and not bouncing around in her head that it had her paralysed, her muscles locked up and her spine straightened.

“Yeah I got her, man” Sam answered while keeping a tight grip on her and it was weird that she actually knew these men, but they knew diddly squat about her.

Sam liked tomato sauce but not tomato’s, he secretly listened to Taylor Swift when he thought Steve wasn’t looking but Steve was a snarky man after her heart and videotaped him for blackmail on chores. He was loyal, fierce and would walk besides Steve even when it landed him in hell.

Bucky liked his coffee black first thing in the morning but drank it the rest of the day with way too much sugar and cream to be healthy, even for a super soldier. He kept a list like Steve did, but instead of pop culture to keep up with, it was a list of names and next of kin of the the people he had been brainwashed to kill. He kept an eye on all of the families, making sure they were safe and Steve felt a sense of deep guilt and pride every time he saw that red leather bound notebook.

And Steve, she practically knew it all, she was the Wiki of Steve Rogers and a little of the dark web. Darcy knew he still feared the cold even though he thought it was illogical. He had a vinyl that he would listen to on the day he went into the water, he’d think of Peggy and wonder why it wasn’t her that was his Soulmate. He’d wait for a girl that would never come and look at the sentence across his chest with hope and confusion. Both of their words convinced Darcy that fate had a nasty sense of humour, it’s also made her know deep in her bones that they weren’t Meant To Be.

So yeah, Darcy knew things, to much things for her own good, if she knew nothing it might take the sting out of them looking at her with suspicion and anger. As it was, it felt like a scalpel running across her skin.

Blue crashed against blue as she looked into Steve’s eyes, she flinched when he took a step closer to her and he narrowed his eyes in response to her movement, “Why did you run?”

Instinct had her shutting her jaw and avoiding eye contact, muscle memory, Sam squeezed her arm in response to her silence, and she turned to glare at him. “Let me go, I don’t like being touched.”

He scoffed, “Yeah I don’t think so Lady, you’re a flight risk and The Captain asked you a question.”

“The Captain,” Darcy snarled his title so viciously that Sam’s eyes widened, “can kiss my ass. Let me go now, while I’m still asking nicely.”

“This is you playing nice? Sweetheart, I think you might not understand what that word means.”Bucky drawled out the words sounding smooth but when Darcy turned to glare at him next his hand was holding his gun that was strapped to his thigh, an intimidating move not lost on her. Her Hydra guards used to do the same thing when she got out of line, and thinking of Bucky in the same thought as them sent a shiver down her spine.

The Captain and the Winter Soldier didn’t miss the the action but she hid it like she normally did, with a bucket full of snark, “I haven’t kneed him in the balls yet, so yeah, this is me playing nice. Call me sweetheart one more time and that threat might become his reality.”

“Why do I get the punishment, he said it.” Her captor said in a whine, sounding not at all threatening, but Darcy knew better, they were one wrong action or word away from hauling her ass back inside.

“You’re closer.”

“Enough Miss Lewis. Play times over, why did you run if you’re supposed to be on our side?” Took Steve long enough, she thought his jaw was going to crack with the way he had been clenching it this whole time.

Still she refused to say anything, not to him, never to him. He may be stubborn but Darcy Lewis was no quitter, gym class had never and would never count.

“I don’t think she likes you, Steve.” Bucky, smirk in place turned to say to his best friend, but Steve didn’t respond he took another step into her personal space and just like last time she froze.

He opened his mouth to demand more questions maybe, but at the final moment hesitated as his eyes glanced down and then his lips thinned and his whole demeanour shifted to grim mode.

Which rude, a lot of people loved the girls, she didn’t know whether to blush or slap him, Darcy was leaning more to violence really, when Steve spoke, “You’re bleeding, again”

Oh, right, she wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah she was in quite a lot of pain.

“I’ll bring her back inside to Helen.” And even Darcy could hear the excitement in Sam’s voice when he spoke.

But the panic returned to her full force, she couldn’t go back in that house again, not when Steve despised her, not when she knew she couldn’t actually talk to him.

Sue her for wanting the guy to like her without the universe trying to shove it down their throats or for him to trust her without having to say his damn soul mark out loud.

“No,” She said the words to Steve but aimed them at Bucky over the Captain's huge shoulders, she was a pro at avoidance by now, “I will not go back in there,You want to hear my story so you can trust me? Fine, but spoiler alert, it doesn’t have a happy ending. It’s about a lab assistant that was forgotten.” Darcy could see Steve’s shoulders tense at her last words but she went on heedlessly, still looking into Bucky’s eyes.

“She loved working with hero’s, she loved making a difference even if it was something as shallow as giving out coffee and trying to help the geniuses with their important work. It made her small world seem larger that it actually was, she felt appreciated, but one day she knew how wrong she was. Hydra came and took her away while she was in Captain America’s office, leaving the all important, shallow coffee to spill on his hard drive, so they wouldn’t be able to extract information from it. They took her and tortured her, because now she became that information she destroyed. They pored placebo into her veins and said it was poison, they poked and burnt at her skin and then poured what was left of her into a cell that was cold and wet. Only to do it again and again and again”

“Miss Lewis-” Steve tried to interrupt her, his voice the softest she’s ever heard it, the deep timber was never that quiet or worried when it was directed at her, she also didn’t notice Sam’s grip leave her as he took in a shuddering breath.

Darcy was to lost in the memories, she was too busy drowning in them, her voice rising with the beat of her sore heart, she wasn’t paying any attention to her surroundings, “I never broke, I never told them anything even when-” and here Darcy stumbled to a stop and a gasp ripped from her, because she could swear to high heaven that she was innocent and maybe for a year she was.

But then they got into her head, they saw what she saw and the Avengers paid dearly for her gift. Steve suffered the worst because of her and by the time she was lucid enough to figure out what was happening it was too late. His team had been broken.

Darcy was guilty.

After-the final plan was to use her as bait to kill Captain America, the leader, and see the team fall even more and Darcy couldn’t, she couldn’t- “I killed them, I couldn’t, they wanted to and I couldn’t let them!”

Somewhere in the back of her head she felt warning signs flash brightly but she was to exhausted to care, she just wanted to lay on the ground and not come up for air for a good long while.

“Darcy I need you to look at me,” That was the last thing she wanted, she just wanted to sleep, why couldn’t he understand that?

Skin touched skin and all other thoughts ripped from her mind, she felt everything Darcy was swimming in emotions, but they weren’t her own, she knew what this was, she could feel the familiar touch of Steve’s mind, but it never happened like this before.

His guilt, his worry, but underneath it all a tinge of fear and surprise and overriding that was confusion, because looking up into his blue eyes, Darcy knew that the jig was up.

For almost three years she had being unwillingly peeking into his mind and it now looked like Steve was riding the Darcy Lewis feels train.

She had shitty luck, because she knew the only emotion in her now marked her as a traitor.

Love it? Hate it? wish i stopped while the gettin was good? Oh well, Thanks for reading any ways!

[howlsmovinglibrary]

The relationship between misogyny and romance: a SJM study

Why female desire* isn’t problematic, but A Court of Thorns and Roses is.

In which I wade into an issue in depth, praying that the flame war gods do not strike me down.

**Please note that this essay discusses only the misogynist elements of SJM’s writing in the ACOTAR series. There are obviously other problematic elements that require acknowledgement, but this is the one I feel confident in addressing. I haven’t read any of ACOWAR yet.** 

*also, female desire in this instance refers to the desire of the presumed female reader of romance. The reading of romance and YA is obviously not exclusive to women, although a lot of the assumptions of SJM’s work ascribe to the concept of a binary gender.

Recently (or perhaps it’s always been there, and has only recently wandered onto my dash) I’ve seen a lot of discussion of the problematic nature of Sarah J. Maas’ writing. This is an issue I have thought about a lot, because although I absolutely hate the Throne of Glass series with a passion, on account of what I feel is bad writing, poor plotting and awful treatment of non-heterosexual non-white people, for some reason this hatred does not extend to ACOTAR and ACOMAF, which I read and really enjoyed, despite much of the content - and the issues of diversity and misogyny - being consistent across both. 

I soon realised that this difference of opinion lies in the genre distinctions I make between the two. While Throne of Glass was initially marketed as a YA high fantasy book (I never got past the second, so I can’t speak for the later books), ACOTAR was sold to me as essentially a romance novel, or at least a paranormal romance. While I ask for diverse representation and good feminism from my fantasy reading, it seems that I consider escapist fantasy, misogyny and sexism to be all part and parcel of romance.

In fact, when you examine ACOTAR and ACOMAF’s problematic gender portrayal (as I am about to), you realise that a lot of Maas’ problematic tropes - traditional alpha male behaviour, such as possessiveness and animalistically coded desire, issues of iffy (and in cases utterly absent) consent, reinforced heterosexuality - are typical to a majority of the romance genre.

‘Alpha Males’ in Romance

The question of whether ‘alpha male’ behaviour is problematic and should be called out isn’t unique to SJM’s writing (although, in her case, you could perhaps refer to it as ‘fae male’ behaviour). It has been levelled at the whole of the romance genre, in particular paranormal romances and ‘bodice rippers’, for a long time. 

The problem with outright condemning it lies in the paradox of the romance genre itself. On the one hand, romance is written by and aimed almost exclusively at women – it is the genre where female desire, which is often suppressed or demonised in society and popular media, can be freely indulged and explored. Women are writing these kinds of relationships, and other women are buying them, so clearly some kind of female desire is being acknowledged and explored, whereas before it would’ve been suppressed or even punished. On the other hand, it often tends to be explored in some quite squicky ways. Because romance has roots in the Byronic heroes of Mr. Darcy, Mr. Rochester and (for a reason I still cannot fathom) Heathcliffe, they often feature domineering, rude, taciturn and belligerent male love interests who are critical and sometimes cruel to the heroine. And, in the paranormal romance genres, and new adult literature in particular, this has morphed into a more sinister figure, the possessive, aggressive ‘alpha’ male.

Feminist critics have constantly been trying to decide whether romance literature is feminist or misogynist. Most would say that women should be allowed to enjoy sex and indulge in whatever fantasies they wish to, when the female desire has been policed, demonised and made a taboo for so long. On the other hand, a lot of romance literature focuses on fantasies which have their basis in some very heteronormative and sexist concepts. This raises a question: do women (or the presumed femme coded reader) enjoy them because they enjoy them, or because this is what society has told them to enjoy? Is the romance genre actually just reproducing and perpetuating this harmful societal influence, rather than promoting sexual agency?

This is why when I criticise the misogyny in her writing (and specifically misogyny, diversity is another matter), I criticise SJM and her authorial intent, rather than her readers, because I’m not going to tell people what they should and shouldn’t find enjoyable or sexy in a romance novel. But it is also why people should be willing to see the problematic elements of her writing, because otherwise the harmful sexist ideals it is based in just get thoughtlessly perpetuated. People should be willing to discriminate between what is explicitly a fantasy, and what is outright abuse.

Sexual fantasy vs. abuse

An example in book is the difference between the ‘napkin’ dress scenes in ACOTAR and ACOMAF. In ACOTAR, Feyre is ‘dressed’ and painted against her will, she is humiliated and made into an exhibition involuntarily. 

‘They stripped me naked, bathed me roughly, and then - to my horror - began to paint my body [...] the two High Fae ignored my demands to be clothed in something else [...] but held my hands firm when I tried to rip the shift off’ (ACOTAR, p.254)

What follows is a party where Rhys forces her to drink what is essentially drugged wine, and then she dances for him, in a scene that is analogous to date rape. She blacks out and wakes up with only the smudged lines on her body to tell her what she has done, or rather, what has been done to her. Her agency is ripped away from her.

“What happened?”[...] “I don’t think you want to know.” I studied the few smudges on my waist, marks that looked like hands had held me. “Who did that to me?” I asked quietly.’ (ACOTAR, p.259)

To compare, in ACOMAF, Feyre consents to being dressed in order to enter the Court of Nightmares, and willing enters into an exhibitionist scene with Rhys (if under very flimsy plot purposes). 

‘I leaned a bit more against him, my legs widening ever so slightly. Why’d you stop? [...] I became the music, and the drums, and the wild, dark thing in the High Lord’s arms.” (ACOMAF, p.414)

‘We were his distraction [...] You and I put on a good show, I said’ (p.415)

This time, the scene is enacted with consent - in fact, her and Rhysand have discussed their actions beforehand and established limits: ‘he’d apologised in advance for it - for this game, these roles we’d have to play’ (p.410). Feyre is the one who makes a choice, she initiates sexual contact, she is sober and has full agency, even when it does not seem that way to their audience. 

The latter scene in ACOMAF is, arguably, a dominance fantasy that is carried out with the consent of both parties (three, if you include a reader indulging in the same fantasy). The first isn’t, it is abuse, but somehow it gets painted retrospectively with the same brush.

There is nothing innately wrong in engaging in dominance fantasies, or enjoying a book which perpetuates one. You could even take enjoyment in the ACOTAR version of the dress sequence, if you, as a reader, consent to indulge in it. But please understand, that that is the *reader* who is making that decision, whereas SJM is forcing it on all readers and, in universe, on Feyre.

Why this is problematic: it is not wrong for a reader to feel desire, but an author orchestrates the route that desire takes

The reader can choose to engage in a fantasy (and in this case the word is not explicitly sexual, it can also refer to the escapist elements of ACOTAR, or the romantic nature of Feysand’s relationship), either in spite of the problematic elements or in ignorance of them, and not necessarily be culpable. But it is important to note that, if the reader does accept this in ignorance, it is an ignorance which SJM contributes to, because she normalises problematic behaviours that have become ingrained in society, and also in the culture of heteronormative romance. Rhysand is never called out for the non-consensual public humiliation and things he forced Feyre to do in the first book. It is in fact retrospectively romanticised and made into an act of love:

‘“So we endured it. I made you dress like that so Amarantha wouldn’t suspect, and made you drink the wine so you would not remember the nightly horrors in that mountain [...] I was jealous.” (ACOMAF, p.525)

The repetition of ‘I made’ acknowledges that this behaviour was non-consensual. But all that’s offered is a weak excuse about how it was done as a way of him processing and dealing with his emotions, and it is explained that the act actually protected Feyre (bleugh).  Rhysand even admits that he was doing it to ‘get back at Tamlin’ (p.542), reducing Feyre to a territory that is fought over by the two men, something which is never interrogated further - and will no doubt be perpetuated by the plot of ACOWAR.

And this is what ultimately makes me uncomfortable with SJM’s books: not that they have these elements of domination, but that the more sinister aspects are never questioned or challenged. Through the thin and very flimsy plot trickery of ACOMAF, Rhysand is made into a saint, his previous sexual assault explained away, becoming something done to Feyre out of love and for her own good. 

And regardless of how you feel about Rhysand as a character, or the quality of his redemption arc, you have to admit that this is particular incident is part of a much more insidious theme in SJM’s writing, where all sexual violence and domineering behaviour becomes normalised to a point where they are explicitly attributed to the innate nature of masculine desire, and of masculinity itself.  Rhysand was confused in ACOTAR, he needed to get close to and protect Feyre because of the incipient mating bond, so he has to ‘help’ her without her consent. Tamlin will act aggressively feral when initiating sexual contact, because that’s part of his essential nature as a fae male and a shape shifter. Even though this behaviour is called out in Tamlin, a) it is not done so in the book where it happens, meaning that a reader of ACOTAR alone could see it as an acceptable form of sexual interaction, and b) the connection of this behaviour to his innate nature as a male is never problematised or challenged. Tamlin’s possession and dominance is a ‘wrong’ version of natural fae male behaviour, but this behaviour is still upheld as an ideal. Because what Tamlin does is not that different from how a fae male acts under a mating bond - it’s just that he and Feyre are not mates.

Don’t believe me? Rhysand acts just as possessive and domineering as Tamlin, it’s just that he has the ‘right’ to be, as Feyre’s true mate, under a perfectly natural force he ‘cannot control’...

‘“It’s normal [...] When a couple accepts the mating bond, it’s...overwhelming. Again, harkening back to the beasts we once were. Probably something about ensuring the female was impregnated...males get so volatile that it can be dangerous for them to be in public anyway.” (ACOMAF, p.541)

There is *so much wrong* with this entire concept - for one thing, ascribing biological imperatives to desire and romance is heteronormative as fuck - but the main issue is the way that toxic, violent and ‘volatile’ masculinity is made entirely natural - ingrained into fae males from the beginning of time when they were ‘beasts’. It’s telling that the words ‘beasts’ is used, because it seems that, in the world of this book, men are animals where sex is concerned - another utterly toxic image of masculinity. And this utterly ‘normal’ behaviour is never challenged: Feyre accepts that she is in close proximity to a ‘dangerous’ man without question. Rhysand can’t help being possessive, because he’s mated to Feyre, whereas Tamlin’s possessiveness was bad because he didn’t have the right to be.  Why doesn’t Feyre get as violently possessive as Rhys does when their mating bond holds? As far as I can tell, it’s cause she’s a woman, just waiting to get ‘impregnated’.

There is very little difference between this passage and the behaviour that Tamlin has portrayed in ACOMAF to make him become the villain of the piece: dominance, jealousy, possessiveness, a desire to place Feyre in a traditionally feminine role of wife and mother. Yes, Rhys is ‘nicer’ to Feyre than Tamlin is in ACOMAF, but that is arguably an act of clear author intentionality, designed to rewrite his character, and utterly inconsistent with his possessive and sexual actions in ACOTAR. And more importantly, the link between masculinity, sex, and domineering violence remains firmly in place.

Masculinity and dominance are inextricably linked in the ACOTAR series, and this link is never challenged. In both the arc of ACOTAR and ACOMAF masculine dominance is held up as an ideal - even if the ideal of Tamlin is later dismantled to be replaced by Rhys, Rhys’ domineering characteristics are still disassociated from Tamlin’s ‘bad’ example and held up as a positive trait. Furthermore, it is only ever men who are domineering and possessive, unless you count Amarantha, and Ianthe, whose attempts at dominating seduction are always utterly demonised as wrong and intrusive. 

‘She’d hounded him relentlessly - stalked the other males, too. [...] She’d be a problem - now or later. He knew it. Kill her now, end the threat before it began, face the wrath of the other High Priestesses, or...see what happened.’ (Ianthe seducing Rhys in ACOMAF, p.233)

Don’t get me wrong, all situations are examples sexual assault - but only the ones perpetuated by women are called out and condemned, and in both cases this is explicitly tied to their bids for power. How many times has ‘stalking’ been used positively in reference to Rhysand’s sexiness? Here, when a woman ‘stalks’, it is seen as wrong. Even if these characters are legitimately evil in-universe (no one is trying to redeem Amarantha), you cannot ignore a trend within the series where male dominance and possessiveness (in the case of Rhys) is excused and actually conceived as the ‘ideal’ relationship, and the same predatory characteristics are coded as villainous and unnatural when presented in women. That is contributing to an offensive and toxic conception of gender, masculinity in particular, and of heterosexual relationships (or, in SJM’s writing, relationships, given that non-het relationships have - at the point of writing - never been explored). 

This is also why SJM needs to be called out on her misogyny (among other awful things), regardless of whether you enjoy her books or not. Because she normalises these behaviours, and people will think they’re normal if we don’t decry them. While I actually have no issue with sex being in books aimed at young people (hell, this was kind of the only way young me learnt about these things), I do take issue with representing toxic relationship dynamics as the norm OR THE IDEAL to younger readers, who are unlikely to be certain about what they want or should expect from relationships. She normalises an incredibly sexist dynamic that has men universally characterised as possessive, violent and dominating, and women as passive objects to be fought over. In the case of Feysand, this is repainted in ACOMAF as a narrative of undying and ‘true’ love. Even if you enjoy the books, you *cannot* ignore these implications.

[tv-writes-ff]

002 for jo and bruce please !

For those that don’t know, I do write for other fandoms besides Yu Yu Hakusho 😂 So this is about the main pairing, Bruce Banner/Jo Holbrook (OC), in my Avengers story Archaic Kinds Of Fun

I don’t get to ramble about this story often, so THANK YOU for the ask!!!

When/If I started shipping it? I was looking for a Bruce Banner story, way back when the first Avengers movie came out, but I couldn’t find a story with what I wanted. Then slowly, I started to create Jo. She wasn’t created just to be paired with Bruce, but I shipped them from the start once I realized that I wanted Tony to have a mutant bodyguard.

My thoughts? Their relationship is so honest and genuine. They started as friends and there was some awkwardness, but they were always open and honest with each other. That transparency is what keeps them together and why their relationship is so strong, because there’s no doubts about where they stand.

What makes me happy about them? They make each other want to be better. Neither of them would ever try to change the other, but they bring out the best in each other.

What makes me sad about them? Something is always interrupting them! These two seriously need a vacation because they rarely get alone time.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me? It doesn’t annoy me, but Jo gets really annoyed when Hulk is addressed as a thing and not as an intelligent being. To this day, one of my favorite lines that I have ever written is: “It’s just Hulk. I don’t call you the Betty, do I?”

Things I look for in fanfic? Popular tropes with Jo and Bruce include: cuddling for comfort, clothes sharing, kisses before fights, and platonically cuddling the other half of their foursome (Tony/Pepper)

My kinks: I mean, Jo is a tiny bit of an exhibitionist if that counts?

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other? For Jo, I could see her with Tony and I think she’d be good with Doreen. For Bruce, I think a different version of Darcy would be interesting and I do like the Thor/Bruce crackship.

My happily ever after for them? They save the world a couple times, retire, and live the rest of their lives in peace. They live close to Tony and Pepper, so that all of the kids can play together, and all of the Avengers have regular dinners and picnics. I just want them all to be happy.

[shieldmaidenhealerandintern-blog]

19. Give us a sexcanon about your muse that not many people knows about.

Sif- “Im a bit of an exhibitionist. I enjoy having sex in places where there is a possibility of being caught.”

Sigyn- “I very much enjoy my partners being rough with me. So much so that I’ve broken my bed before…three times.”

Darcy- “I like to peg my partners sometimes and I have over ten attachments that I can use. Some of the vibrate.”

@dark-prince-of-asgard