#everyone like 'wow that armour is so badass' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crushedbyhyperbole · 5 years ago

Text

Disco Ball Diva

A/N: For @buckyshelves Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy this and have a great festive holiday

To @bucky-smiles for organising this secret Santa gift exchange, you’re awesome and so, so kind

Also... thank you to my friend Haz who beta read this for me. You are always so supportive of my writing and I love you

Summary: You’re inappropriate, sassy, have snazzy powers, and now you’re an Avenger-in-training. Not everyone appreciates your blasé attitude, and when a surveillance mission goes south you’re thrown together with one hot brooding super soldier. It doesn’t help that you can’t stop ogling his bum.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader w/ powers

Word Count: 7k. I actually feel bad that it’s so long.

Warnings: Violence, gun violence, Bucky kills people, mentions of blood and injury, bad language (which is a given for me), some sexual tension (light) but mostly just reader is an asshat XD

The Avengers compound is not like you imagined it. Or maybe it is but you haven’t found any of the secret stuff yet. Hidden jet hangers under the basketball court, labs in the basement, glass cases full of superhero suits. Wait. That’s the freakin’ X-Men.

Still, it’s nothing like you hoped. The conference rooms are boring, obviously, because meetings are the epitome of dull. The communal lounge and kitchen are both boring; there’s no espresso machine that doubles as a drone, no fridge that transforms into sentry bot, there isn’t even a SodaStream. Yawn! You don’t even need to see the fitness suite to know that it’s not a place you want to visit, and you’re not allowed below the ground floor yet. Talk about not trusting the noob.

Your room is a vision of extreme lacklustre, but you only moved in yesterday, so, no redecorating just yet, save for the peace lily your brother gave you.

Congrats on your new job and home by the way, here’s a half-dead plant I had but couldn’t be bothered to look after. Now it’s yours. Enjoy!

Your super power is definitely not green thumbs, nurturing life, healing, or anything even a tiny bit supportive. You can’t fly, don’t have super strength, speed, or a crazy-good aim. There’s not a green rage-monster just below the surface waiting to erupt and smash things. Well, if someone steals your cookies you might have to choke a bitch but hey, rainbows are cool, right? Super distracting, like oh hey, what’s all this shiny shit flashing around? Oh dayum, I totally didn’t see that badass super warrior coming to kick my ass.

You swallow hard. The small conference room feels like an interrogation room despite the polished wood table and plush leather chairs. Of four sets of eyes that are currently watching you, only one pair is encouraging.

Tony Stark. The guy who recruited you. Took you from a life of selling hotdogs on street corners in the City and apartment sharing with a crazy cat lady called Angie who you found on Craigslist. You had nothing against crazy cat ladies, per se, but you would prefer it if the pissy smell was optional. Angie had opted in, hence why you jumped at the chance to opt out. Ugh.

“Rainbows?” The scowly but buff brunette with the dreamy blue eyes and robotic arm, scoffs mockingly. “You project rainbows?”

The equally buff blonde who you suspect might be Captain America (or maybe his stunt double) snickers, his head lowered to hide his amusement. Does Captain America have a stunt double, for like, TV appearances and meetings with officials, and stuff? You’ll ask later. Right now, you’re annoyed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, fist-of-victory!” You snap your fingers like the queen you are. “Am I too snazzy for you? Do my rainbows ruin the whole Neanderthal vibe you got going on there?”

Loud snorts and chuckles pull you back. The redheaded vixen you know already as Black Widow is pinching her nose to stifle her laughter, and Tony is looking to the heavens in askance but emotional stability is not forthcoming.

“Wow.” The brunette says flatly.

“Fist of victory.” Tony ponders, eyes twinkling. “I like that.” He levels an amused gaze at you, rolling his next words around in his mouth. “Manchurian candidate is a little out-dated, wouldn’t you say, Barnes? Ready for an upgrade?”

Oh shit! Your eyes get big. The brunette is none other than the infamous Winter Soldier. You should have known by the arm. Show no weakness! Your brain screams.

“What’s the official title for that skill, you have?” Steve Rogers has gotten his face to cooperate, now there’s no trace of a smirk. “Light manipulation?”

“Walking disco ball.” You put on the light show again, manipulating the effects so the lights are dancing across the, now stormy grey, eyes of one Sergeant Barnes.

“It’s definitely distracting.” Natasha says objectively. “Could be useful.”

“See! That’s what I said!” You punch the air, sending the lights into a frenzy.

“I have a theory.” Tony is playing his cards close to his chest still. “That’s why y/n is here. She’s agreed to work with us, and at the very least she can be a supportive member of the team.”

“Team, frickin’, playahhh!” You holler, earning a concerned look from Rogers and a downright obnoxious groan from Barnes. “What? What you complaining at? You fucking love me already!”

The truth was that you didn’t know how your ability worked. You could feel it when you did your thang, like the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and the air in your hand felt stiff and substantial.

Better not talk about hands full of substantial stiff things around grandad Tony, he might kick the bucket.

You could manipulate the amount of reflections in your light show by making the air heavier, make them move, dance, even adjust the size of them a little. Agreeing to work with The Avengers had been a no brainer; you get paid, get a place to stay that isn’t full of the stench of sadness and cat piss, and you get to find out more about your ability. Win, win, win.

+++ A couple of weeks later +++

“You really expect me to take Rainbow Brite on this mission?” Barnes has his arms crossed across his chest, refusal crinkling his brown and pursing his lips into a thin line. The guy looks hot in tac gear. One bicep straining against the material, the other is obviously free and oh-so-fucking-awesome. Thighs tight under those black tac pants, thigh holster accenting the flex of muscle as he shifts his weight. Wait-what!?

“Wait a fucking minute!” You squawk. “Rainbow Brite? Oh, hell no!” You march up to him, similarly decked out in black gear that makes you look like some tiny recruit in ill-fitting body armour instead of badass like him.

There’s a smirk on his perfect mouth now, dusky pink lips lop-sided with amusement, and the twinkle in his eyes is more than a little alluring. What the fuck?

“Huh.” You stop your tirade, blinking, baffled. He’s playing with you. Trying to get you pissed so you’ll refuse to go, or maybe he wants you to go so you’ll make a fool of yourself and Tony will see you’re not useful. Too many mind-games already, you don’t have the patience for this shit, so you go with an insult instead. “If I’m Rainbow fucking Brite then that makes you Twink. Dink!”

“Well, he does epitomise my sparkling personality.” Sardonic, deadpan. It’s classic brooding Barnes and you’re almost proud that he got an 80’s pop culture reference. Almost.

“And they did rename him Mr fucking Glitters back in 2014.” You pout, adopting his stance, arms crossed.

“Perfect!” Tony pops m&ms into his mouth, turning away dismissively. “Rainbow Brite and Mr Glitters it is. Head to the carpool, there’s a vehicle waiting for you both.”

There was no getting away from this mission. You’d grumbled, griped, whined, and begged Tony to send you with anyone but Broody Barnes but the Iron Man was true to his alter ego, he did not budge.

You are about to take a few pot shots at him in the insults department when Barnes’s voice comes over the earpiece you have already been fitted with.

“Earth to disco ball. Get in the damn car already.”

“It’s disco diva to you, giant cocksicle.”

He laughs at that and is still grinning when you slide into the passenger seat beside him.

“You’ve got some mouth on you, kid.” Was that acceptance? Admiration? Whatever it was it looked good on him.

“Yeah, you know you want my mouth.” It sounded better in your head but now that it’s out it can’t be taken back. Barnes looks a little frowny but at least he’s got nothing to say so you can quietly die in peace.

Can someone cringe so much they die? You might find out.

The mission is surveillance. Low-key observations of a facility out in Nova Scotia that makes products for iGoddess, a beauty company owned and run by Gabrielle Porter, the niece of one Alexander Pearce, crime syndicate king-pin and scumbag extraordinaire.

You know the company; you buy their stuff. Well, you do now you can afford it and it’s not wasted under the scent of cat urine and bleach. How can a company so devoted to making women feel special and empowered be mixed up with drugs, weapons and human trafficking? Fucking bullshit, that’s what it is.

Bucky had ditched the car in the parking lot of a lake-side leisure and visitors centre about fifteen miles away, and with gaudy waterproof outerwear over your tac gear, you had begun the hike that would set you smack-bang in the middle of nowhere good. Posing as hikers had been Tony’s brief but you’re cold and bored, and your body aches from being on the solid ground.

You’re both lay just behind the crest of a hill a little way away from your target building. Bucky mutters his observations into his comms as you look through your own binoculars trying to see what he’s looking at. He’s talking guard numbers and movements, the weapons they carry, security features and people entering or leaving the facility. It’s no use, you’re not cut out for this. Surveillance is soul destroying. You’d rather be interred in Tony’s kitchen, at least there’s coffee there.

Not even an hour in and you’re itching to get up and move around. The hike had gotten your blood pumping but now you’re going stir-crazy, joints tingling with the need for motion.

Boring. Boring. But at least you can entertain yourself. Where there’s light there’s beauty and you tease the air through your gloves, finding that your skin doesn’t need to be bare for you to create the effect. Well whadd’ya know.

“There’s movement.” Bucky warns. “Looks like some of the guards are exiting the compound.”

You snort, they’re probably bored too.

“A Jeep and a couple of motorbikes, moving quickly.”

“Sounds like they’re going home.” You mumble, focused on the lights in your hand.

“They’re headed this way.” He curses. “Grab your- What the HELL are you doing?”

Bucky tackles you to the ground from where you were on your knees almost at the hill’s crest.

“Asshole!” You’re trying to get away from him but he pins you to the ground.

“I’m the asshole?” He complains as he rolls off you, sliding down the hill on his ass, shoving his gear unceremoniously into his backpack. “Mission compromised.”

“What happened?” Tony’s disembodied voice doesn’t sound happy.

“We were spotted.” At the bottom of the hill, Bucky starts picking a path through the rocks and small fissures hidden by the wild grass and heathers. A quick glance back tells him you’re not following; you’re caught.

“Uh, hi, guys.” You chuckle nervously as one of the guards levels an assault rifle at you. “Would you believe we’re winners of a free weekend iGoddess Spa?”

Bucky is livid. If it had just been him, he could have taken them out and escaped, but, no. Tony had to insist that he bring you, show you the ropes, look after you. Babysit you.

He snorts. You don’t need a minder you need to be put in a padded room where you can’t inflict any more of your weird bullshit on him. Fucking rainbows. What kind of skill is that, other than one that gets you caught?

Eight hours ago you were both doing great. There’d been some small-talk in the car, he’d opened up a little and you’d responded. Even on the hike over you’d been great, your filthy mouth was a source of much amusement for him, and you’d listened. His instructions were followed close enough to the letter, and he was happy. Everything was good.

Now it’s all fallen to shit and he’s locked up in a heavy-duty restraint chair that brings back memories of dark places and dark times for him. To his side, you’re slumped forward in a regular wooden chair, cable-ties binding your wrists and ankles to the wood, pulling at your skin, making your hands and feet turn blue. How the hell are you both supposed to get out of this?

He’s watching the movements of your chest that tell him you’re still breathing. The cut on your head has stopped bleeding but you’re drooling blood-tainted saliva down your grey rash-guard. Both of you had been stripped down to your undergarments and checked for hidden weapons. He was the first to be incapacitated as they’d used you as leverage, holding a gun to your head until he complied, stripped, and submitted to the chair. When they’d took away your gear you’d fought and Bucky had seen red; he’d strained against the chair until the butt of a gun to the head had put a stop to that. When he came to you were out cold, beaten and bloody. How hard had you fought?

Your feet and hands are turning purple now. The weight of your body pulling the restraints against your skin is making the plastic ties dig deep, cutting off the circulation.

“Y/n?” Bucky hisses, hoping the noise doesn’t prompt the guards to come back. “Y/n! Wake up!”

The room you’re in looks like an interview room. Two-way mirror, camera in the corner, reinforced door with heavy-duty locks that were strangely not engaged. It’s grey and cold, and the only things in the room are the two chairs and you two. The device Bucky is locked into is bolted into the floor; a permanent feature, like they expected him or maybe Steve. He tests the chair again. It creaks but doesn’t give. He’d have to really put some brute strength into it to break out, and that would create too much noise. He’d wait.

“Y/n!” A little louder now, and you stir.

He keeps talking to you, just bullshit words, what he wants for dinner, what film he’s going to watch when he’s home safe. Anything to help draw you back to consciousness.

“You wana watch a film with me, y/n?” He thought for sure you’d tell him to go fuck himself.

You moan, head lolling as you come back to him.

“Hey! Rainbow Brite!”

“Fuck you.” It’s a whisper but he’ll take it.

“There she is.” He allows himself a relieved smile. “C’mon, sweetheart. I need you to sit up for me. Take the weight off those ties before there’s any permanent damage.”

It takes a few more moments before you can shuffle yourself properly into the chair, then you’re flexing your hands and feet to get the blood moving again.

“Oh-god-it-hurts-so-fucking-bad!” You are practically wailing as the pins and needles sensation in your extremities reaches a peak. The slightest movement now sends a cacophony of intense pain into your limbs.

“It’ll be over soon.” Bucky sooths.

“Why are you being nice to me after I got us caught?” You eye him suspiciously, flapping your hands to rush the blood into your fingers. Rip the band aid off. “Is this some kind of prank? Ohhhhhhh! This is an initiation isn’t it? Oh, I see. Where’s Iron Doosh? Hey! Tony!”

“Would you shut up? This is real. We’re really captured.” Bucky hisses.

“Tony Stank, Skank, Spah-hank.” You sing-song as you struggle against your restraints, examining your bound feet through spread knees. “I hope this is one of the chairs from his good dining set.” You stand, leaning forward and centring your weight above your bent knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Just need to…” You shuffle over to the mirror.

“No, y/n, wait!” Bucky begs. “Don’t break the glass.” His frantic expression says the rest. Your feet are bare and you’ll shred yourself to ribbons.

“What? You’re crazy. Why would I do that?” You chuckle, amused that he’s so worried. “There’s no one in there.” You wink at him. “They’d be in here by now if there were.”

You shuffle a bit more and grunt as you throw yourself backward to the ground. The chair cracks but doesn’t break.

“Fuck!” You struggle some more, grunting and groaning like a butch female tennis player in a grand slam. One of the arms loosens and you fight against the wood until you get your left hand free, then you’re reaching into your hair for a bobby pin to jam into the clasp of the cable tie on your right arm.

Moments later, you’re free and rushing to Bucky who is fighting against his own restraints. There’s sweat beading on his bare chest and his hair is sticking to his forehead. A quick swipe of your hand clears his brow and he stills, watching you as you search the chair for whatever mechanism has him trapped.

“There’s a big red lever at the back.” You muse. “You think it’s an ejector seat?” A cheeky wink. “If I sit in your lap we can both go for a ride.” You don’t have time for giggling and flirtation, but you do it anyway.

“Y/n.” Bucky chastises lightly.

“What? This is every girl’s wet dream. Every, damn, girl.” You mumble as you grip the handle. “And I can’t even enjoy it.”

“Just pull the damn thing already. We don’t have time to mess around.”

“Pity.” You tug the lever and a loud hiss fills the room, pressure releasing from the chair.

Bucky is on his feet and at the door before you make three steps. He’s rubbing his right forearm where the metal clamps had bitten into his flesh, there’s blood there too, long ago dried.

“There’s movement out there.” He has his ear to the door. “I need a weapon, we need our gear, and we need a vehicle.”

“I need some chocolate and bottle of wine.”

“What?”

“Are we not making a shopping list?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs your wrist. “C’mon.”

With the door cracked open, Bucky can see movement at the end of the corridor; there’s a security room which is promising for retrieving your gear, but not if you want to avoid being seen.

“Stay behind me.” He pushes you towards his back.

You look down at his bum. “No problem.” You sigh and then you’re moving, your hand on his bare back so you can feel where he’s moving next.

Bucky suddenly shoves you down into a squat, shushing you with a finger held against his lips. The way he moves is like water, smooth and forceful, carrying the momentum of his body towards a lone guard who has paused at the corner by the security room. How he hasn’t seen you is a miracle but the man doesn’t even hear Bucky until the his own knife is slipped from its sheath and into the his temple. There’s no sound, no gurgling, not even much blood. Bucky lowers the body to the floor and cleans the knife on the pants of the dead man.

Looking at him now, you can see why people fear him. His expression is cold, calculating, and focused. It’s necessary, the distance he puts between himself and the act of killing. Even when Bucky was him, there was always a distance; a gap between him and his orders. Now the killing is his choice and he has to live with that, there’s no excuse of mind control now. This is all him.

The security room has one guard inside who is overpowered moments after Bucky opens the door.

Fucking amateurs, you think. Does that room not have cameras that cover the door and surrounding corridors?

Turns out that it does and the reason the guard hadn’t seen you was because he was sexting his girlfriend.

“Sexting?”

“Yeah. Like sex role play and talking dirty over text.” You snort. “Jeez, you’re old.”

“What can I say? You’re broadening my horizons.” He winks then and it’s so out of place in this grim situation that you laugh nervously. “Sounds fun.”

“Well don’t take tips from this guy.” You wave his phone in the air loosely. “He’s fucking terrible at it.”

“What’s bad about it?”

You’re not sure if he means to ask that, he’s busy trying to get outside communication through the phones which seem to be keycode protected and also checking through the security feeds to see if he can find your gear and a way out of this for you both; he’s clearly distracted. At least he’s happy now that he has a pair of handguns and a pair of knives, no weapons for you because you haven’t completed your firearms training yet. But let’s face it, who would arm you anyway? You were a disaster waiting to happen.

“He’s a bit of a wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am kinda guy.” You chuckle. Bucky is going to regret starting you off down this line of conversation. “His poor woman has probably never experienced even mediocre sex with this schmuck if his sext skills are anything to go by.”

“Too eager to bury the bone?” Bucky sounds distant, but he is listening to you as he checks drawers for weapons, keys and anything else that might be useful. God knows your gear was nowhere to be found.

“Check it.” You hop up on the desk near him and scroll through the laughable chat. You feel slightly guilty reading this guy’s private shit but he’s dead so he isn’t going to care. Reading from the chat, you do fake voices. “So she’s like ‘hey baby, you free tonight? I got something for you.’ Peach emoji, cat emoji. And he’s like ‘you off your period? Can we bang?’ I mean, what the fuck dude?”

Bucky is smirking when you look at him. “What did she say?” He straps both thigh holsters to his almost naked body. It’s comical how he’s gearing up from salvaged stuff wearing only a pair of skin-tight spandex shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Once Bucky is packing (in more ways than one, now) you have to force your eyes elsewhere.

“’Yeah, baby! I missed you so bad. Can’t wait to be in your arms again.’ She just wants lovin’ y’know?” You spoke the line in a soft, breathy voice. Fake, of course.

“And what did he say?” Bucky is checking the monitors one last time before he moves to the door.

“You like a bit of sexting? Huh, Barnes?” You smirk, eying him mischievously. “Living vicariously through the sexting chronicles of Captain Dick-Down over there?”

“Just looking to know what not to do if the opportunity for sexting ever arises.” It’s light-hearted and completely unlike the grumpy Bucky you’re used to. Maybe there was something in the air; sex pollen or something. That’s totally a thing. “C’mon.” He says after a moment, eyes twinkling with mirth, soft lips pulling up to the side in a cute smile. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

It’s comedy gold, the pair of you running the halls of an apparently secret part of the factory, him in his tight little shorts and you in your panties and spandex t-shirt over a sports bra that makes your rack look like a uni-boob. You awkwardly tug your rash-guard down over your ass whenever Bucky is behind you and you’re thankful you didn’t wear a thong though that would be better than skid marks. God, you hoped you’d not shat yourself when they beat you.

You barely encounter anyone until you’re almost at the warehouse; Bucky is so stealthy that even with you hindering him, he only has to subdue one foreman and drag you into a cleaning supply closet once, to avoid a pair of patrolling guards. Not that you’re complaining, being squashed up against an almost naked super soldier gave you endless thrills, even if he was all stiff and awkward about it.

Bucky stalls before the double doors that lead to the warehouse. There’s a heavy plastic strip curtain over the exit too, it’s almost opaque with age and hinders your view of what is beyond the meshed safety-glass of the door’s small windows.

“They know we’re coming.” He whispers to you, mere inches away. “There’s a lot of them out there and I can’t keep you safe if you disobey orders. So, please,” he begs, “please do as I tell you.”

He begs so sweetly, you think, blushing. But you’re not one for passing an opportunity for inappropriate comments.

“I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes, feigning innocent. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Really?” Bucky doesn’t know whether to blush or be annoyed. You never seem to take anything seriously; it’s always a joke, or something you can twist to your amusement. He gets doubly serious. “If you die, it’s on me. You think I haven’t lost enough people over the course of my very long life? You think I want to wash your blood off my skin later tonight? Bury you alongside all the other people lost to some fight or other in the name of SHIELD or the Avengers? I can’t save you if you don’t want to be saved.”

You watch him as he fervently tries to convey the dire nature of your situation, desperate to make you understand that he doesn’t want you to die here, he cares. His eyes are piercing and your heart is a ricocheting bullet in your chest. What if you don’t make it out ok? What if this is it for you? Both of you? Suddenly, you’re acutely aware that Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, Fist of HYDRA come Fist of Victory, has cleared himself a little spot in your fucked-up soul, and is there to stay. You don’t want him to get killed because of you, but there’s nothing you can do, you’re not trained for this, or at all really.

You nod once, not trusting your voice in that moment. You could choke on your words or you could vomit all over yourself. It’s a lottery, so you say nothing.

“Good girl.” He gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Stay behind me. Be quick, keep low, don’t hesitate, and for Christ’s sake no disco ball.” There’s a small smile tempting the corners of his lips, like he’s saying he forgives you for getting you both into this mess. “Ok, sweetheart, lets go.”

Out in the warehouse there’s a whole host of guards and workers, patrolling and overseeing shipments being loaded into lorries. It look like it’s important, and probably why the majority of the facility is clear of security staff; the merchandise is being moved.

It’s a mad dash, crouching low as you ghost around the edge of the warehouse. The huge rows of stacks are packed full of boxes and crates, further obscuring your movement around the area. Bucky is silent, especially since he’s barefoot; he’s every bit the assassin he’s hyped to be, but you can’t take him seriously padding around almost naked with the top of his crack showing and his junk all jiggly in the front.

A radio crackles to life. Three personel down. Prisoners have escaped. Cameras last caught them headed your way.

They must have found the bodies.

“They’re in here somewhere.” A man says, loud and authoritative. “Search the rows, shoot to kill. They’re not low-life mob goons, they’re Avengers and can’t be allowed to live.”

Well that settles that, you think, gone are the chances of mere bodily harm. It’s death or death.

You watch in awe as Bucky scales a nearby stack to stalk one of the patrolling guards. When his opportunity arises he yanks the man up by the throat, snapping his neck in the process. You can’t help but admire that metal arm, so sleek and powerful. You groan, light and lusty, earning you a concerned look from the owner of said appendage.

Killing that guard has yielded an assault rifle, another knife and another handgun. You’d think Bucky would be too smart to arm you but apparently he’s not. Silently he points to his eye and then to the gun where he shows you how to turn off the safety, puts the gun in your hand and moves behind you to adjust your grip. He aims for you, pressing his chest against your back and you swear you can feel his junk against your ass. Once he’s satisfied that you aren’t going to injure yourself, he’s gone from behind you, crouching low at the end of the row.

He grabs another guard and drags him backward. The struggle is louder than he would have liked, and the man got out a partial shout before his throat was closed forever but Bucky is hopeful that he can thin the numbers down enough to make it possible to get you into a truck and away safely.

Bucky shoves the newest body under the nearest stack and beckons you to him. You both move like a two-carriage train, he’s the engine and you’re the caboose following in his wake. He only leaves you to commit murder but you feel lost when he’s gone, cold even. There’s something alluring about the way he uses his body and your mind drifts to other carnal things.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump. There’s more of a commotion going on in the warehouse now, not just the sounds of men moving goods and silently searching for two prisoners. There are massive amounts of footfall, boots hitting the concrete at speed; bringing in reinforcements from outside.

Bucky is about to whisper in your ear when the squeal of a megaphone pierces the air; he stills with his lips almost touching your skin before pulling back with a frown.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Bucky knows that voice, he’d heard it for years, worked with it, even obeyed it on occasion. “Save the girl. Turn yourself in.”

You shake your head, panicked, urgent. Don’t leave me, your eyes are saying.

A noise nearby draws Bucky’s attention and he suddenly forces you to the ground under a stack where he slots himself immediately after; the security team are searching for you, stealthily stalking the rows. It’s cramped and dusty, the bottom shelf above you so close you can barely breathe without your back brushing the metal supports. How Bucky fits is beyond you, the man is a beefcake, all bulk and magnificently defined muscle. Thinking of him naked is the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to claustrophobia. Something brushes your hand and you jolt, eyes snapping to meet his. He grasps your hand properly and gives it a reassuring squeeze. In your chest, something gives. Maybe your permafrost heart is thawing, maybe you’re about to have a stroke, maybe you really like him.

When the coast is clear, Bucky pulls you free and you emerge into a different row, one with fewer boxes, one you’ll likely be spotted in. You can just see the massive doorway of the warehouse, double sliding doors like a hangar, several half loaded trucks and maybe forty men with body armour and guns. One guy in the middle is wearing a full-face helmet with a white skull etched across the features.

“Holy shit! Is that Punisher?” You hiss before Bucky can clamp his hand over your mouth, the warning look on his face is stern as he leans in to you.

“Crossbones.” He corrects you, barely audible despite the proximity. You still don’t know who that is but he’s totally not as cool as the Punisher, so it doesn’t matter.

His hand is still over your mouth but there’s no point in struggling, you couldn’t break free of him even if you tried, so you push your tongue out and squirm it against his palm, making him recoil in disgust. Your chuckle is silent and his frown turns to the ghost of a wry smile before his attention is fully back on the man he calls Crossbones.

Bucky is taciturn at the best of times but he’s in full diagnostic mode now, assessing the situation. His eyes flicker around the warehouse from yet another new position. It seems like he’s trying to get you closer to the trucks but you suspect that’s what Crossbones expects. There are more men closer to the trucks too and Bucky has already had to kill another two in the latest relocation. The missing men haven’t gone unnoticed and Crossbones is issuing orders, plugging the gaps so you can’t escape.

“I will find you Barnes.” Crossbone’s voice sounds wet through the megaphone, like he’s salivating with excitement at the prospect of getting his hands on you both again. “If you turn yourself in, maybe I’ll let the girl live.”

Bucky’s eyes are downcast, like he’s actually considering it, but the moment passes and Bucky’s resolve hardens. He drags you away towards the end of the row.

“The end of this row has a direct line of sight to the exit. I need a distraction. Can you do that for me?” He whispers.

You nod, lips set in determination. “One disco ball distraction coming right up.”

“On my mark.”

The fluorescent strip lights overhead create more than enough light for you to use. With your right hand flat against Bucky’s left shoulder blade and your left manipulating the air to create a huge show of dancing lights, you move in tandem. Bucky steps out of hiding, keeping you just behind him with his metal arm, he surges forward squeezing off four shots. The way his arm snaps to aim so quickly is astounding, like he has a targeting chip implanted in his brain. Who knows, maybe he does. Four men fall and remain still. Another three shots, then another two and he’s pulling you into another row at a crouching run to the opposite end as he discards the empty gun and pulls out another. He’s saving the assault rifle for Crossbones.

“Again.” He instructs gruffly. “Can you get their eyes?”

“It’s not an exact science this, you know?” You huff and he seems to know that you’re saying you’ll try your best. Of course you’d try, but you don’t know much about your power, even after the few months you’d been training with the team. If it meant you both got out of this alive, you’d flash your tits at the enemy for Christ’s sake.

You emerge again, him with the gun in his metal hand this time, stepping out with you at his back. This time they are ready for you and they start firing before Bucky gets off his first shots. He makes a dash for a fork-lift with a huge pallet of crates sat at floor level. He shoots his rounds in threes until the 9-round magazine is done. The gun is discarded as you both slide behind the cover of the pallets. Machine guns rattle, pummelling the crates with round after round. Bucky prays the crates don’t contain munitions.

“I make fourteen down. Twenty-two left.” His breathing smooth where your is ragged. You curse yourself for being so unfit that even a tiny bit of stress and exertion leaves you heaving air like a couch potato made to climb stairs. “Crossbones is a problem.”

“What do we do now?”

Bucky has two handguns, four knives and an assault rifle, you have one gun and your rainbows. This isn’t going to go well, you think.

“You’re going to hide over there and watch the rear.” He points to your left.

You smirk. Now isn’t’ the time for joking.

“I’m going to thin the crowd some more and, if I can, take Crossbones out.” He looks determined but ridiculous in his underpants, dusted with dirt and debris from the floor that’s stuck to the slightest bit of moisture on his skin. “This might not work. Run to the left, hide in the stacks again, stay down and don’t expose yourself.”

You nod and he readies himself to break cover. The shooting has stopped now and it sounds like the guards are changing positions again. His muscles clench, coiling ready to spring.

“Wait!” You stop him with a hand on his arm, the metal is unnervingly cool. Tension builds. “I wanna fuck you until you pass out.”

“Ummmm.” Bucky blinks, eyebrows raised in surprise but he’s smiling. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, well, no, but, uhhhh.” You splutter, this hadn’t gone well at all. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you, you know, what Captain Dick Down said to his girl. You asked, for future reference, and all.”

“Oh. Right.” He frowns, turning away again. “Move when I do.” He orders stiffly, preparing to move.

Well, shit!

“Bucky, wait.” Your voice is softer this time, tears prickling your eyes. There’s a chance that neither of you will make it through this and it’s suddenly hit you that there’s something missing.

“What now?” He grumbles, turning to find you closer than he expected.

You surge forward, cupping his jaw in your hands as you capture his lips in a kiss that’s both urgent and needy. You don’t care if he doesn’t respond, you need to feel this before it’s too late. All this tension between you, the jibes and snarky banter, it’s unresolved and sexual in nature. You want him, and if this is all you can have then so be it. One stolen moment before it all slips through your fingers, and you both go to your graves.

You’re already pulling back when he snaps back to attention, quickly pulling you back for another kiss. His tongue delicately touches between the seal of your lips and you sigh with longing.

“You ready?” You pull away but he’s still clearing his head, trying to focus again.

On your feet you’re running out, pumping your legs as fast as you can, heading to the wrong place. Machine guns stutter to life and Bucky is on your heels a second later, fear contorting his features as he scoops you up in his metal arm and returns fire almost blindly. He’s shielding your body with his own and yips like a wounded pup when the bullets find him.

On your knees beneath the curved shield of his back you see the enemy are far closer than you thought. Everything in you yelled stop and you felt the pressure rise through your body and out, cascading off you like a roiling storm.

The bullets stop but the guns are still firing, muffled by the thickness of the air. Despite the pain in his lower back and hip, he turns to see what’s happening. Bullets sluggishly pushing through the air like flies in syrup, all but stopped and slightly redirected on a path that will take them away from a central focal point that is you. You’re doing this, shielding you both as if by some miracle, your power not only refracting the light causing rainbows but acting like a forcefield.

“As much as I have to break up this little party, I really can’t have you killing my friends.” The voice of Tony Stark is heard a second before the Iron Man himself and several of his Iron Legion appear and shoot each and every remaining guard with a taser disc, stunning them into unconsciousness.

Crossbones is a different matter and is somehow resistant to the zapping he just got. He levels a grenade launcher at the stacks near where you and Bucky are crouched and fires. No air shield will save you from all of that falling metal, but Bucky is still fast despite his wounds. There’s blood running down his leg in rivulets as he pulls you to safety, and shields you instinctively with his body once more while the sound of explosions and grinding metal fill the air.

“I did not know I could do that.” You praise yourself.

“I still got shot.”

“It’s just a flesh wound.” You snort. “Walk it off.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

“I must be something special if you took one in the ass for me.” You wink. “I hope it heals puckered, then you’ll have two rusty bullet holes.”

“STARK!” He shouts but pulls you closer to him. “Evac for one. She’s walking hom-owwww!” You pinch the skin on the inside of his thigh viciously enough that he shoves you out of his embrace.

You both stay close on the Quinjet home. Bucky had been confused as to how Stark had known to mount a rescue mission but when you produced Captain Dick Down’s phone from your uni-boob bra it all became apparent. All of the comms in the facility had been locked down but that was a personal device, one that probably wasn’t allowed to be carried. Good old Captain Dick Down.

The facility had been put to a far worse use than drugs and weapons trafficking. iGoddess was a front for human trafficking and also human experimentation. The restraint chair they had strapped Bucky into had been used to restrain test subjects; Alexander Pearce was trying to replicate the super serum that made Steve and Bucky what they were.

“So, this was a win for us.” Steve said in the debrief. “Our intel was lacking but it worked out in the end.”

“Says you who didn’t get shot in the ass cheek.” Bucky grumbled, shifting cautiously on the Mr Glitters cushion you’d given him as a joke.

“I got to see some wonderful scenery,” you grin brilliantly, “so I’m not complaining.”

There had been no further discussion about the kiss you and Bucky had shared when you thought you might die in that place, but that’s ok. Your daily thrills are made up of making him squirm, and since you two had become closer since your ordeal, you have had several of moments like those. There’s plenty of time and you’re prepared to play the long game, starting with your newest idea. You pull out your phone and casually write a text while Steve is rambling on about seized research and assets.

[I’m so turned on right now].

Bonus add-on for this work: Captain Dick Down - External link to AO3

Because apparently 7k words wasn’t enough and I just had to try my hand at a little text chat/social media piece. It’s more of an embellishment. Enjoy

And if you liked this story, why not try Good Ole Stuffing, a smutty follow on for the same reader/character.

#cmmsecretsanta #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #reader insert #reader with powers #marvel fanfic #powers au #my writing #cloudy's writing

100 notes · View notes

phoenixkaptain · 5 years ago

Text

In terms of adaptation, the Witcher series on Netflix is the worst I've seen in a very long time.

You can like it! I don't care if you like it, I'm just tired of people being like, "It's not a good adaptation" only for someone to be like "well, it's based on the books not the games, of course it's not like the games" BITCH IT ISN'T LIKE THE BOOKS EITHER!!!

1) In the books, Geralt met Dandelion/Jaskier because Dandelion was running away from the intimidating older brothers of a woman he slept with.

2) The majority of people in the books have no fucking clue what a witcher is. They find Geralt scary because he is a giant muscle man with two swords and cat eyes. A lot of townspeople do hate witchers, yes, but there are a few that are friends with Geralt! They know him and like him!

3) Why can't Renfri be a badass in a skirt? Why does she have to have short hair and wear men's armour? In the book, she cut her own hair (not very well), wore a skirt with a slit (she had the slit in her dress so she could tear off the bottom and throw a bunch of fabric in her opponent's face, blinding them), and was tragic because she goes to Geralt knowing she'll die. He kills her men and her men alone, but when Strego-bitch comes to disrespect her body, he let's the people think he killed innocent men and let's Stregobor turn all the townspeople against him so that Renfri doesn't have to be dissected like a monster. Renfri wears her armour and skirt because it's all the femininity she had left after she was raped and disowned, but that's not good enough for Netflix, I guess.

4) (This one isn't as big as the others, but a nitpick) Yennefer is short and not conventionally attractive. She wasn't a beauty everyone fell for, Geralt literally looks at her and can see remnants of her being a hunchback. Everyone looks at her, the only two who find her hot are the elf and Geralt after a fucking djinn almost kills her.

5) Geralt can't smile in the books. They never state this outright, with those words, but everytime his smile is described, it is described as nasty or weird-looking. He can't smile, the boy doesn't know how to, he's like that polite cat picture, he doesn't how to facial expression

6) Geralt calls Vesemir his dad and if Netflix ruins this in season two I will actually write a fifrmty page letter complaining about it and send it to them because Vesemir is Geralt's dad and Geralt loves him and talks fondly of him and I will beat up anyone who acts like they have a bad relationship, Netflix-

7) Where's my girl Nenneke??? Where is she??? Where did she go? Just in general, while on the topic, where is the Temple of Melitele, the only goddess people worship??? Where are the priestesses who can fuck on temple grouds because Melitele is goddess of fertility?? Where is Nenneke??? Where's Melitele???

8) What happened to the literal god of harvest that saved Geralt and Dandelion from being killed by elves??? They didn't have a change of heart, in the book, a literal GOD came over and was like, "stop it, this dude is great and his bard is okay." Where did they go? What happened to them?

9) The goat guy was like "Whoa, you can't kill Geralt!!! We were having a good time! He didn't try to kill me at all! If you want to kill Geralt, you have to kill me first, because this witcher guy is my buddy, now!"

10) Dandelion cries when they break his lute. He is a sad puppy. Geralt sees this and starts trying to escape.

11) Geralt complains to Dandelion that people want to fuck the monsters, monster fuckers exist and thrive, where are the monster fuckers, where is the monster fucking representation? I want Geralt to kinkshame the monster fuckers because they're taking his job, you can't take this away from me.

12) Please stop having sex. The book didn't have graphic sex scenes. Why do we need to watch two people have boring sex for twenty minutes? If I wanted to watch attractive people have sex, I would watch porn. I don't want to watch third-rate porn that brings the story to a halt. Have a cut. Cut to them starting cut to them ending. I am so tired of the sex, it is sooooooo boooooring. "Oh, wow, Geralt's fucking Yennefer again, what a surprise, this sex scene is totally different from the last time Geralt shoved his dick into someone, I'm sooo invested in watching Geralt push his dick around for a bit. Yeah, this is fun, this is investing, this is what I watch high-fantasy for, woooooooow." Stop it. Dandelion is the slut, why are all the sex scenes with Geralt? Why doesn't Jaskier ever get down and dirty? Why don't we ever see him shirtless? I have many complaints.

That's all, for now. Like I said, if you like the show, that's great! I just have some problems with it as an adaptation and I'm tired of people thinking I'm talking about the games. I'm talking about the books. It is not a good adaptation of the books. It just isn't.

#it isn't based on the games!!!#witcher netflix #witcher books #criticism #long rant #long post #sorry if you don't want to read my opinion #i just want to get it off my chest #literally everytime someone complains someone says #i know that #i am aware #i know it is based on the books #swearing #this is not a rant for children to read #the witcher is not a show/book for children to watch/read

7 notes · View notes

iwritethat · 5 years ago

Text

Jason Todd: Engravings

A/N: Italics are flashbacks, this ones a lil different to my usual style.

>>>>—————————>

———

"They're cool, kinda badass and luckily these ones are blank!"

"They're cheap and tacky. They haven't been engraved yet - where'd you steal 'em from?" He was always quick to pass judgement but it came from a kind place.

"Stall on the corner, I want to carve my name into it but I'm scared of messing it up."

"..."

———

"(Y/n) - Boss, we've captured the intruder and tied 'em up downstairs - want us to dispose of him?" Your peaceful drink at the bar was interrupted causing a halt to your paperwork as you glared at him.

"My my, so quick to get to the murder. You know it's both polite and resourceful to at least ask what they wanted, so come on." Placing down your pen, you ensured you looked presentable before heading down to the basement with your men strictly following like soldiers.

———

Your hands shook ever so slightly, fingers guiding the knife situated between them in sheer concentration though you'd yet to even graze the shiny steel. You winced, pulling away the blade with a frustrated sigh.

"Give it here, a knife is too big anyway." The exasperated tone of your friend reprimanded, briskly untangling the chain from your fingertips, then glaring at it before shoving it in his pocket and walking off into the alley leaving you with no explanation which left you to business on the streets.

———

The doors flung open signifying your arrival and the discovery was less than pleasant, a decently built male securely tied to a chair with guards standing on either side and his jacket and under armour folded on the table beneath his crimson helmet.

"Why did you uh... remove half of his clothes? That seems a tad unnecessary..."

"Ah that symbol electrocutes anyone in close proximity as Mal discovered but we didn't make that mistake twice." A henchmen quickly answered, sheepish expression on his face.

"Hm, clever. Is Mal okay though?" Not many held concern for their hired guns but you were a rare exception which is why your company were renowned for their loyalty toward you. Nevertheless, one of the guards nodded with a smile, once more placing down the offending piece of armour.

"Alright dumbass, what were you thinking breaking into my fine establishment?" Came your charming voice, fingers grazing across the back of the chair before stopping in front of your ravenette prisoner.

"That's no way to talk to your guests sweetheart, but admittedly it's one of the nicest places I've broken into." His icy gaze finally met yours, and that was when you noticed the reflective glint on his bare chest.

Instantly you knelt before the handsome stranger, fingertips barely brushing the heated silver before you received a vicious threat.

"Touch that and I'll personally make you regret it."

Regardless of his venomous attitude, you gently grasped the engraved dog tags - the gesture definitely not unnoticed by their wearer nor the foreign expression that briefly crossed your features.

———

"Oi!" The moment you'd acknowledged the voice, a slither of steel was slung in your direction capturing the light of the moon as it flew through the air.

You barely caught it, faltering before recognising the item and running your thumb over the new alterations.

'Name: (Y/n) (L/n)' accompanied by your birth date with enough space for another line if needed. However, you filtered through the next one as the tags originally came in a pair but this one was different.

'Name: Jason Todd'

'DoB: 16/08'

———

What surprised the majority in the room was your next swift movement, using the chain entangled around your digits you pulled him down to your level bringing your lips to his ear to prevent eavesdropping guards as a precaution.

"If you're Jason Todd, then what does (Y/n) (L/n) mean to you?" With your secretive whisper, the males muscles instinctively tensed and he looked to you with shock in his irises before scowling.

"That's a bold assumption."

"No, the fact you wear jewellery underneath your getup suggests it's sentimental. As it's a pair of engraved dog tags I would've thought military but there's no ID number and they're close to your heart aren't they?" Was your solemn explanation despite knowing exactly what they represented, though you still felt resentment radiating off of the captive as you waved your guards out of the room to speak more freely.

"How do you know I'm not (Y/n) (L/n) smartass?" Was his comeback, wrists twisting in his restraints.

"Because they're incredibly attractive, duh."

"Wait - you know (Y/n)? If you've done anything -" His voice seemed more lively now, like emotion was tied to that name and the hope of finding them.

"Just tell me why you're here already as I might be able to help." Unbeknownst to him, the person he seemed interested in stood right before him - not that you’d tell Jason that just yet.

———

"Why's your name on here?" You mischievously inquired, smirking at your now flustered friend.

"Wha- well because I made it, it's my signature duh." He shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze diverted to Gothams' skyline and pout upon his lips that only made you laugh.

"Uh-huh suuurre."

"If you don't want it then throw my one back." Came the snappy callout, Jason now looking at you expectantly.

"And split them up? That'll look weird." You shook your head, playfully pulling the tags away from his grip as he went for them and proudly clipped them around your neck.

"People probably say the same about us to be honest."

"What was that red?!" You didn't quite hear whatever he'd muttered under his breath, but knowing it would've been somewhat sentimental his defensive reply was expected.

"Nothing jeez!"

———

"I want Black Masks location. Now your turn."

"Roman has no influence over me or my club but I know some regulars who work for him so we can sort something out." With a brisk motion you'd slit the restraints on his wrists thus freeing him.

It was a stupid thing to do, your fingers instantly reaching for your necklace out of nervousness once you'd turned your back on him - it was a habit, you'd put your faith into a common criminal and were hoping he wouldn't kill you now he had the opportunity.

Instantly you realised your mistake, seconds later you ended up with your back roughly trapped against the table, knife to your throat and 6ft war god holding you right where he wanted you.

"Thanks for the assist doll, but you never answered my question about -" As he pulled back, there was a strain, a twinkle of metal against metal as the two chains kept you tied together.

His gaze flicked from the interlocked dog tags then back to you, recognition flooding him instantly as the knife clattered against the tile and his brows furrowed as of analysing you.

"You were right, (Y/n) is incredibly attractive..." Jason was breathless, a contrast of awe and snugness on his handsome features.

"Speaking of, clothes!" You’d grabbed the folded material and shoved it into his chest with a huff whilst subtly attempting to hide your undoing due to the close proximity.

It didn’t take much to detangle the chains so he could get dressed but not without a somewhat interesting reunion - it had been a few years since you were misguided street kids.

"I heard you were dead." Jason started, no doubt he’d inquired about you on the streets but judging by the last man any of your old acquaintances saw you with, you didn’t blame them for their presumptions.

"I heard you were dead."

"Touché, I came back though. Not 100%, but back." Jason commented, scratching the back of his neck which already told you this was a sensitive subject that you noted to delve into in the near future among other things.

"We really changed huh, you got adopted by Bruce Wayne, I got taken in by Carmine Falcone and now we're on the same side again. Sort of..." You playfully shrugged, offering your friend a small smirk.

"Falcone - you became a freaking underground crimelord?!" His shock was evident, jacket dropping to floor whilst he rubbed his temples then gesturing for you to elaborate.

"Says you! Look I did what I did to survive, after Falcone was killed I stayed out of everyone's way and kept this club and it’s profits under my control. No one owns me anymore. But nice to see you kept my nickname for you Red Hood!"

“I knew you’d do great and I have my reasons, it’s not just because of you. Anyway, Black Mask - we should probably y’know...” The big bad vigilante was flustered, a gift of yours that supposedly maintained its effectiveness through the change and so you couldn’t help but continue.

“Are you sure, you did call me attractive.”

“Yeah well you are so... whatever. And besides, you’re rich but kept the cheap dogtags so I guess I’m not the only sentimental one.” Jason closed the distance as he spoke, a gentle brush over your heart as he tugged on your tags with a smirk.

Since you seem in so much of a hurry I’d love to properly catch up some time if you’d allow it. So I f you’re quite done staring at my lips Jason I’ve got a club to open and there’s someone we need to speak to.” You tilted your head in a challenging manner before making your way to the staircase with a devious smirk as you finished your implied invitation.

“...I haven’t missed you at all. Just so you know (Y/n)!” Your partner hollered after you, hastily throwing on his jacket and grabbing the helmet before joining your side with a playful nudge as you walked to the bar.

———

"Even though you're rich now, you still haven't grown out of throwing things at people!" You mocked anger, huffing at the offender.

"Not people, just you." Jason wittily replies along with a wink.

"Oh wow, thanks I'm honoured." Your sarcasm was fluent, inspecting what he’d thrown at you before commenting on the chain.

"Jason what's this, they're replicas of the dog tags I wear already."

"Yeah I know, but these are silver. They're better." His light blush went amiss as he stopped before you with his explanation.

"You brought these?"

"Figured I might as well get you something, besides like you said, I'm rich now."

"Keep 'em." You effortlessly tossed them back, Jason catching them with both disbelief and confusion.

"But I-"

"I don't care - I don't want them. I like my ones - they're had crafted by Jason Todd and I have the crafters signature to prove it. Although since they are almost a matching set..." You trailed off, Jason's curiosity piqued as you unclasped the silver and walked behind the male who, despite his wealthy residence, kept his red hoodie.

"You should keep it, that way you'll have me close to your heart like you are to mine." Came your continuation, latching the tags around his neck whilst you walked around to face him, fingers lingering on the silver in the centre of his chest.

"Never knew you cared."

"Oh I don't, but I still have the original Red. And the originals are always more valuable."

———

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc #dc imagine

134 notes · View notes

lay4decolonisation-blog · 6 years ago

Text

She-Ra: Princesses of Power (2018) and the Representation that I Want

**CONTENT WARNING: ABUSE, VIOLENCE**

When I heard She-Ra was back and GAY, I had to jump straight or not so straight into it. The amazing characterisation and themes of the show fit the modern audience perfectly. She-Ra: Princesses of Power (SPOP) did what Voltron: Legendary Defender wish it did. RIP.

The SPOP series was written by Noelle Stevenson, and produced by Dreamworks. Season 1 aired on the 13th November 2018 via Netflix.

There’s two things I want to discuss, so I’ll split this up into sections: visual character design & complex characterisation.

Visual Character Design

80’s She-Ra

2018 She-Ra

She-Ra is the hero alter ego of Princess Adora, who transforms when she calls forth “For the Honour of Grayskull!” with The Sword of Protection.

When I saw the visuals for the series and the new outfit for She-Ra I nearly screamed. It was perfect. I will always prefer Marvel cinematic movie adaptations on the basis that women wear full body armour, and not a skirt. So it was natural for me to fall in love with the shorts, flowy skirt, useful boots and 80’s influenced shoulder flares on She-Ra’s new threads.

She looked PRACTICAL, and totally badass. I see no male gaze in the update. She-Ra isn’t wearing heels, or red lipstick, her dress doesn’t look like it’s about to give her a nip slip, and her hair still flows like golden threads in the wind!

Notice how I just used the ‘Male Gaze’. The Male Gaze is essentially a patriarchal control of representation of women and/or other genders in media, and can be applicable to historical documentation (Mulvey 1989). Ponterotto (2016) describes it expands on the media’s control of feminine bodies as:

“The invisibility of women has been accompanied in an extraordinarily inversely proportionate manner by the visual display of her physical appearance, of her body as material object, to be observed, judged, valued, appreciated, rejected, modified and essentially commodified, for socially-constructed purposes. From a feminist point of view, this purpose can be claimed to be essentially male pleasure, concomitant social benchmarking and commercial profit.” (134)

From the ‘controversy’ from predominantly male audiences on the release of She-Ra’s costume it’s obvious that it’s doing its job (Lenton 2018); with men reacting with things like:

“The character designs for this show are god awful. She-Ra looks too much like a man.” MECCA_Studios @ twitter

“if you're trying to make your girls look like boys for your show then you are not actually fighting for equality you're proving that men is the superior gender and taken more seriously than a beautiful women, you're only helping sexism not fighting it” - iamconsumer @ twitter

I wanna acknowledge this was mainly white, cishet males reacting to a show that is predominantly AIMED AT YOUNG GIRLS. SPOP’s visual design of She-Ra was so key in getting this show right. She is a woman icon for young girls growing up and seeing her on screen wearing a non-sexual costume whilst being feminine, strong and beautiful will mean something for them growing up. Women/Feminine peoples can look at the screen and say “I’m She-Ra!” and not have to feel like they have to look good for male gaze to do that.

People Of Colour (POC) Representation

Bow, Mermista, Frosta, Netossa and Catra’s - along with ethnically ambiguous characters - redesign was kind of glossed over with the amount of objections about the Queer and Feminist arguments going around.

So here’s some of my babies:

Bow 80s

Bow 2018

Mermista 80s

Mermista 2018

Catra 80s

Catra 2018

Frosta 80s

Frosta 2018

Bow stood out to me alot because I empathize alot for my dark skinned brother’s who don’t have any or many examples of good representation on screen that explores queer identity, gender performativity, body image and positive masculinity that is casual and fun. (I speak of course from an Indigenous background, but a lot of my community look at the African-American community on TV for dark bodies representation.) Imagine a young dark skinned boy watching Bow being fun loving, supportive, gentle, obsessed with crop tops, hanging out with girls and embodying positive masculinity, then using as a mold to treat their sisters, mums and cousins. Incredible.

SPOP centers ethnic looking characters amazingly with their characterisation. Having POC on screens breaks out of normalizing whiteness, and de-centers it as the default way of being (Scharrer & Ramasubramanian 2015). People might argue that fantasy worlds don’t overlap with real worlds because race mightn’t exist in the fantasy world, but when you’re a ethnic kid growing up watching/ reading white bodies being superheroes and warriors and People of Colour don’t exist you have no representation, or worse POC are negatively stereotyped. Representation is IMPORTANT. Representation is the ability to control the way the world perceives a group of people, or yourself - white people often struggle understanding this because whiteness as an identity is invisible by normalization (hooks 1992, Dyer 1997). It can be compared to men as ungendered compared to women, or non-cis and queer people with heteronormativity. So it can only be visible when colour is involved, and depending on whether it’s good or bad POC representation it can create racial stereotypes (Brigham 1971, Nosek 2007).

LGBTQIA+ Visual Representation

I feel like you can find a lot of this, but not any by me!

I will start with Scorpia cause she’s such a dear.

JUST LOOK AT HER.

Everyone is screaming ‘butch lesbian’ little to know that she is a total femme (anyone can fight me on this). Her open attraction towards Catra was loud, unapologetic and was super ultra normal. Despite her giant crab claws, I just want her to hold me gently. I think it’s another good example of different body types. Like it’s not just an exterior what makes a woman a woman or a good person a good person. Before I die of thirst, let’s move on to my Bow’s dads.

OH MY GAWD. Bow resembles Lance and George so much. Like the perfect little mix between their two personalities UGH. Both very different individuals who share a common obsession with history. Two gay Black dudes just be out here owning the biggest collection of ancient artifacts, studying the classics and raising 13 kids like wojefdikewajfaij

Lance out here rocking dreads and the glasses with sandals *bathump* and George with his little moustache and fancy hair. They go on like a normal couple picking on one another and knowing each other’s personalities, caring about their son and reflecting on their parenting when they realize they messed up instead of blaming their kid for not understanding them okmfoerngfa

Sorry, my heart nearly went into cardiac arrest thinking about them.

I won’t miss the exceptional drop of them telling Bow their disappointed that he had to hide a part of himself because he was afraid of what they’d think of him or do. I remember that feeling….*glances at my physical wooden closet*

SPINNERELLA AND NETOSSA.

Netossa is the only character (I’m pretty sure) who was originally dark skinned in the 80s She Ra - she also had no powers.

Now rocking up with powers and gf, she is out here living her best life. Look at them. Just look at my babies. They swapped chokers, like wow, what a lesbian power move. Plus sized, buff queer women rocking their femininity being loyal and totally badass. Their actual appearances on screen are limited but impactful as they are seen as people seem to question more what the heck they do in the Rebellion rather than their queer relationship.

Complex Characterisation

Let’s start with Shadow Weaver’s relationship with Catra and Adora.

Starting off at Mystacor as Light Spinner, she a teacher and getting one of her students, Micah, to perform a spell that conjured evil magic - The Spell of Obtainment - ultimately decided her path as Shadow Weaver. She became an abusive, manipulative and self righteous authoritative figure to Catra and Adora.

Shadow Weaver is an abuser. Abuse works differently in each situation but is defined by White Ribbon Australia in categories of: Physical, Financial, Emotional, Verbal, Social, Sexual, Stalking, Spiritual, Image based, Dowry and Elderly Abuse.

The emotional, verbal, social and I’m going to add economical (instead for Financial) abuse she inflicted on Adora and Catra made them stick together as companions through the hardships. Adora upon realizing the Horde’s actions and motives rejects and calls out Shadow Weaver’s abuse. Catra, on the other hand, looks for something like approval from Shadow Weaver. Catra grew up neglected and constantly compared to Adora in her duties to the Horde by Shadow Weaver, so when Adora left a shift happened in Catra. Adora was her main source of comfort and sense of safety in Shadow Weaver’s irract attitude towards her. Adora was her constant feeling of affection and comfort, when she went against the very codes that kept them together their entire lives - Catra was betrayed. Finally, maybe she could get the parental approval she was seeking from Shadow Weaver she never got when Adora was around. Also looking for validation of her moral that has been cause her actions other than rage and sadness that Adora had left her alone. Catra sort out her Abuser’s approval because that’s the only way she knew how to get validity and self assurance of her identity as a member of the Horde - all she ever knew.

Catra feels alone and like she can’t depend on anyone, and because she knows how that feels she was also able to emotionally manipulate Entrapta into join the Horde. It’s a consistent cycle of isolation that stemmed from one person’s influence.

The thing that differs Adora and Catra, was more Adora being given opportunities to lead and step up where Catra was always on the side. Adora gained leadership skills and an emotional capacity where she was able to trust others and trust herself. This ultimately allowed her to do the right thing and join the Rebellion. Catra on the other hand had to quickly use her head and be more aware of things other than herself which made her falter in the leadership role of Shadow Weaver, but that is her coping mechanism of isolating herself and having to immerse herself with other people and the world to take action.

Adora’s culture shock between the way the Princesses live and the way it was in the Horde only shows how she’s been manipulated through learning the knowledge and behaviours that were enforced on her in the Horde. Princesses aren’t evil. The Horde is evil.

Adora’s role of She Ra has put a lot of pressure on her, and she is fighting her own self.

What happened with Adora was she was specifically chosen because she’s had the experiences she’s had. She knows what it's like in the Horde. How their systems work. What type of people and kids are there. She knows all of that to use to win the war. She’s not gonna break into it, but out of it.

When Adora breaks out of the Horde’s learning, and the truth telling begins the walls will crumble and there will be internal upset. There’s a good and evil battle going on inside of each character. Adora wants to protect her friends and do the right thing, but sometimes those two things aren’t the same thing.

Another character I wanna bring up is Glimmer. Glimmer has been fighting to fight. She’s having to fight a struggle in her internal kingdoms. She’s been trying to tell the truth to the other Kingdoms and unite the Kingdoms so they can beat the Horde and save everything they love. She needed to stand up to her mother, the other Princesses, and herself. She is so damn strong and I love her so much omg.

When Bow went to the ball with Perfuma and she was upset, this was because she was afraid Bow would leave her. She’s been isolated also by her mother into doing Princess things that don’t actually have a big impact, but Bow has been consistent in her life and training to be a leader. When he left her side, she was scared that she was going to be isolated again. She knew it was irrational, but that kind of stuff just happens. Sometimes our feelings don’t always make sense to us at first, and we have to look somewhere else to understand what we’re feeling right then and there. But the besties will prevail.

The other thing I didn’t touch on earlier, but will now is age. The Princesses age from around 11-18 (?). The thing about having young people saving the world is really where we’re at. Kids are rioting in the streets trying to get big corporations led by greedy bastards who want resources and exploit people to stop, and save their entire world - yeah, you know I’m talking about situations like the climate strike. We will learn from our elders mistakes and do it right.

We shouldn’t give up because our parents did. We will be the ones to win, just like Glimmer, Adora, Bow and the gang.

Representation isn’t a debate - it’s a necessity.

Thanks for reading babes.

Reference List

Dyer, Richard. (1997) ‘The Matter of Whiteness’ in White, London: Routledge.

Brigham, John C. "Ethnic stereotypes." Psychological bulletin76.1 (1971): 15.

Nosek, Brian A., et al. "Pervasiveness and correlates of implicit attitudes and stereotypes." European Review of Social Psychology 18.1 (2007): 36-88.

Bell, Hooks. "The oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators." Black Looks: Race and Representation (1992): 115-131.

Mulvey, L. (1989). Visual pleasure and narrative cinema. In Visual and other pleasures (pp. 14-26). Palgrave Macmillan, London.

Ponterotto, D. (2016). Resisting the male gaze: feminist responses to the" normatization" of the female body in Western culture. Journal of International Women's Studies, 17(1), 133-151.

Scharrer, E., & Ramasubramanian, S. (2015). Intervening in the media's influence on stereotypes of race and ethnicity: The role of media literacy education. Journal of Social Issues, 71(1), 171-185.

https://www.whiteribbon.org.au/understand-domestic-violence/types-of-abuse/

2 notes · View notes

tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years ago

Text

Rise Up

Chapter Twenty Eight

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader | Word Count: 4414 Warnings: language

Song: I Choose You by Sara Bareilles

Steve stood in Bucky’s shower and ignored the laughter coming from behind the partially open bathroom door. Seeing as how he couldn’t use his own suite to prepare, what with (Y/N) there, he’d commandeered Buckys. Of course, this had drawn every one of the guys to his suite as well, ending up with a revolving door of people.

Thor had returned with Odin and Heimdall. T’Challa had taken to the two new Asgardians with ease, drawing them in with his charm and quiet charisma. Sam, Clint, Scott, and Tony had broken out the good liquor. Vision had been taking in everything in his way, interjecting in conversation if and when he felt like it. Bruce stuck with him, grateful for his calm, while Bucky leaned against the sink, poking at the pile of clothing Loki had provided.

The God of Mischief had gone to retrieve the sword Steve had left behind in his room but had decreed that he would return soon and Steve had best be dressed.

“You even know how to put this stuff on?” Bucky asked.

Steve glanced his way through the frosted shower glass. “I’m sure I can figure it out.” It hadn’t looked as intricate as Loki or Thor’s attire after all.

“She's gonna love the leather pants,” Bucky chuckled.

“Least we’ll be even.” Steve grinned and turned off the water. “Towel?”

Bucky threw one over the door Steve was quick to wrap around his waist. He swung the door open and stepped through to find Bucky smirking at him.

“What’s that look for, jerk?”

Bucky’s grin grew to fill his face. “Punk ass, little shit. You’re gettin’ married.”

Steve chuckled, his heart clenched and took up a swift beat, and he grinned at his image in the slightly foggy mirror. “Yeah. I am.”

“Never did I ever think… for either of us…” Bucky shook his head as his voice grew choked.

“Me either, but it’s (Y/N). She’s… everything.” The smile on his face was goofy as hell, but Steve couldn’t help it. He was happy. Really happy. Stupidly happy. Even if his wedding wasn’t quite what he’d once thought it would be.

“Hey?” Bucky nudged his arm when Steve ran his hand down his clean-shaven face. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just… not what I expected.” Steve shrugged and grabbed his shorts off the pile of clothes, drawing them up his damp legs beneath the towel before removing it to rub over his head. Once most of the water was out of his hair, he dragged the towel down his chest, down over the heartbeat which drummed in time with his own, and frowned at the look on Bucky’s face. “What?”

“What?” Bucky smirked all the wider.

“What’s that dumbass look for?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing.”

Steve dried his arms and furrowed his brow, giving his friend the Captain’s glare as Natasha called it. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

But he snickered, causing Steve to turn fully toward him and cross his arms, towel hanging from his clenched fist. “Liar. What do you know?”

He burst out laughing and waved a hand Steve’s direction. ‘Pal, that hard ass look of yours is way more effective when you have clothes on!”

Steve rolled his eyes and ran the towel down his legs. “Jerk. C’mon! It’s my damn wedding, and I haven’t a clue what the hell is going on.”

“You poutin’, Stevie?” Bucky teased. “I haven’t seen that face since nineteen forty.”

“Maybe,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes and taking the pants from Bucky when he handed them over.

The black leather was soft, felt like warm butter in his hands, and went up his legs with only a little sticking to his damp flesh. They were fitted but not to the point of being a second skin. Hooks and leather lacings saw the front closed. A wide band of thicker leather carved with runes acted as a belt and closed with an intricately worked buckle in silver and gold.

Bucky tossed him the long sleeved tunic, a dark blue with a wide collar of black leather laced together like lattice and a cord of braided black woven in gentle waves along the edges and around golden cabochons. Even the cuffs of the sleeves were patterned with wide bands of black leather lattice. Small gold studs appeared to hold the leather in place, and when Steve drew the fabric over his head, it settled loosely on his body.

“Damn.” Bucky shook his head.

“What?” Steve asked, smoothing down the sleeves.

Bucky handed over a belt at least three inches wide and packed with squares of beaten gold. Wolfheads in what appeared to be blackened silver sat in the center of each square, matching perfectly the heads on the ring he slipped back onto his forearm.

“You look…” His friend's blue-grey eyes were wide and filled with what appeared to be… envy.

“Is it weird?” Steve turned toward the mirror and startled. “Holy…”

“Shit, right?” Bucky grinned and punched him in the shoulder. “Damn, Stevie! You look like some badass Viking!”

“He looks like a man of Asgard,” Loki stated, appearing in the doorway. “Boots.”

He held out the knee-high creations, black again, but they had bands of deep burgundy leather which repeatedly crossed from ankle to knee.

“Different,” Steve muttered. “Socks?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Uncessassary.”

Steve eyed the sword in his opposite hand. It was (Y/N)’s. “That’s not mine.”

“How observant of you,” Loki quipped.

Steve only arched a brow. “I thought we were past this?”

A deep breath passed Loki’s lips, but he nodded slowly. “The time simply grows near. I am… anxious.”

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“Because the last three times Sváfa wed her sjelevenn, she died within weeks of their nuptials.” Loki held up his hand before they could say anything in response. “This is… different. I am aware of that fact. You, Captain, are far more powerful than any of your previous incarnations. She, too, is more than she was. I cannot help but think this time, things will be different.” He turned on his heel and walked out, calling, “Come along, Captain. We are not finished with you yet.”

Steve looked at Bucky, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. Both gave a half shrug and followed Loki out into the room where everyone was waiting. A round of good-natured catcalling and whistling came from those gathered. Steve grinned and held up his hands in surrender.

“Looking good, Cap!” Sam chuckled. “Like something off the History channel.”

“Laugh it up, Wilson.” Steve tried not to blush.

“Loki,” Odin murmured, getting to his feet with a frown. “What game are you playing?”

“No game, father. Only truth.” Loki turned and threw his hand out at Steve.

Magic swelled and rippled, raced over his chest and back, leaving behind weight and pressure when the armour settled heavily on his body. Steve gave a small grunt when it all fell into place, his shoulders and hips taking the brunt of it, and looked down at his arms. “Holy hell.”

No one spoke. Everyone stood and stared in awe. Thick burgundy leather unlike anything he’d ever seen covered his forearms, shoulders, chest, and back. When he moved his head to see the deeply carved pauldrons on his shoulders, Steve felt something soft and warm tickle the back of his neck. Fur, it seemed, though, for what purpose, ornamental or functional, he didn’t know. He brought his hands to the chest piece and drew his fingers down the front, feeling the groves and following the lines which led into the wolf made rampant on the front.

“Wow,” Steve and Bucky breathed at the same time.

“Loki!” Odin snapped, turning on his son. “How dare you!”

Steve frowned and looked at Thor who appeared as shocked as Odin and Heimdall. “What?”

Odin grabbed Loki by the collar. “Remove it at once!”

“That would be unwise,” Loki said, holding up his hands in the face of his father’s anger. “As he is Hurgid’s true heir, it is the Captain’s right to wear his armour.”

Odin’s face paled, his eye widened, then, suddenly, he was standing before Steve in armour which glowed with the light reflecting off the gold of it. “Not possible. He is of Midgard. He has never been to Asgard!”

Steve shook his head. “Freyja took me. I’ve only been back a half hour at most.”

“Freyja?” he whispered, stepping back.

“I’ve been in the tomb. I used Randulfr to defeat Heðinn. I know what happened to start us down this path.” Steve slowly unbuckled the guard on his left arm and drew the ring from beneath his sleeve. “Helgi, he gave this to me.”

“Sváfa, she has Randulfr?” Odin asked, in a voice grown soft with sudden age.

“Father, if you drop into an Odin sleep here, I will kick your ass back to Asgard!” Thor threatened.

Odin shook himself gently. “No. No, Thor. I am fine. Simply surprised. This is unexpected, but perhaps it should not have been. The Norns have been busy with you, Captain. Hurgid was… my friend.”

“An honour, I’m sure.” Steve nodded.

“And now the famed heir happens to be a man I call a friend!” Thor walked over and pounded Steve between the shoulder blades. “Could the day be any more fortuitous?”

Surprisingly, Steve felt only half the strength of the blow against his back and wondered just what magic the leather was laced with to diffuse Thor’s power so effectively.

“So, you go into your nuptials armoured and armed?” T’Challa asked, breaking the silence as Odin continued to stare at Steve.

Loki tilted his head. “Asgardian males show their strength, their power, and their place to their bride. It is our way. As the exchange of swords is our way.”

“Dress to impress, huh?” Scott called, lifting his glass. “Looking good, Cap! Smokin’ hot. (Y/N)’s gonna swallow her tongue.”

That caused Clint and Tony to laugh, and the good-natured ribbing began again.

Steve ignored them to focus on Loki. “I think you and I better go over this ceremony. We don’t exactly exchange swords where I’m from.”

Loki threw him a wicked smirk. “That would depend on which life we were speaking of, Captain. Come along. I will explain on the way.”

Steve cast one last glance at Odin who appeared lost in thought. Perhaps he was lost in memories, ones of days long past when another had worn the armour he currently carried on his back. The weight of it suddenly seemed heavier.

***

The noise was intense in your room. All the women had gathered together to laugh and ask you questions about what to expect and traditions unique to Asgard. They’d made you blush at least a dozen times, break out in laughter double that many, and tear up once or twice.

Nakia and Shuri had gushed over your ring. Okoye had grunted, but a smile had twitched her lips right before she’d asked when she could have a go at the Valkyrie Queen? Apparently, Tony had been rather thorough in sending out the video of you kicking the ljå’s ass.

Hope Van Dyne had arrived with Scott and was helping Laura wrangle the Barton brood. Wanda was touching up your makeup, Natasha had stolen some of Tony’s best champagne, Peter had tagged along with Shuri and was doing an awful lot of blushing being the only male in the vicinity.

But it was Pepper’s arrival which threw everyone into a tizzy, for walking in behind her, was Sharon.

You hadn’t seen her since the Hounds kidnaped you and stood slowly to your feet to greet Pepper. “I didn’t think you were coming?”

“I didn’t think I could make it, what with the time difference and how quickly this came about, but you know Tony. He sent a suit.”

She rolled her eyes and made you chuckle. “I’m sure the Chinese were thoroughly impressed.”

“They did take quite a few photos,” Pepper sighed. “Especially as I made the mistake of arguing with an empty suit for all of five minutes before Tony just disassembled and reassembled it around me.” She squeezed your hands. “Though I am glad I’m not missing this. Tony’s been sending me updates on all things Valkyrie while I’ve been travelling.”

“Good.” You glanced toward Sharon standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“I hope you don’t mind. I was on my way here with information for one of the others teams and, well…” She twisted her hands together, her uncertainty clear.

The insecurities you’d suffered when she’d first arrived tried to rear their ugly head, but Steve was your sjelevenn. Whatever he’d had with Sharon in the past didn’t matter. The two of you together, that was the future.

You stepped around Pepper and walked toward Sharon, her body growing tighter with each step until you held out your hands. “Be at ease and be welcome. I’m sure Steve will be happy to have you here. He told me about you and Eric.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed in relief and smiled.

Sweet. That’s what came to mind when you looked at Sharon. Sweet and wholesome. She would have been a good match for a man like Steve at any other point in time, but Steve was yours. The other half of your soul. There was nothing for you to fear in regards to the woman standing before you.

“I’m… a little surprised though,” Sharon continued, eyeing your outfit. “I never would have guessed he’d go for a themed wedding.”

You burst out laughing, followed swiftly by Wanda and Natasha. “Oh, man. You have no idea!”

It took twenty minutes before Sharon finally stopped saying, “You’ve got to be shitting me,” and believe the rest of them.

“So you’re an actual queen?” She stared at you with wide eyes.

“Yup.” You nodded. “But that’s okay. Steve’s a king now, so you know. It evened out.”

“What!” she shrieked.

It took another ten minutes to hash out the rest. And once you had, Sharon simply took the bottle of champagne from Nat and drank straight from it.

“You guys need to start sharing your intel,” she gasped, pressing the bottle to her cheek.

“We share what we need to.” Nat’s voice was hard, and you reached for her hand.

Natasha was one who could hold a grudge for a very long time, and Sharon had been the catalyst which had made you run what felt like a lifetime ago. Add in how Sharon was now the liaison between Shield and the CIA, and people had become a lot more closed mouth around her.

“It’s okay, Nat. This isn’t information we’ll be able to keep quiet. Not anymore. Ross knows, so it’s only a matter of time before everyone does.”

“Is that why the rush to get married? So Ross and the media don’t find out?” Sharon asked.

You shook your head. “Asgard calls. My people need me. Today is an advantageous day to wed according to Odin, so today is it.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Sharon murmured. “Congratulations to you both. I’m going to go find Steve and wish him the same.” She patted your knee and stood, wobbled slightly when the alcohol kicked in and walked away looking a little shell-shocked.

“I never liked her,” Natasha muttered. “Too perky and perfect.”

You snorted a laugh. “It’s fine, Nat.”

The redhead turned your way. Her face read as hard lines and angles. “It wasn’t fine once.”

Arching a brow, you lifted your chin. “I’m not insecure of my place in Steve’s heart anymore. Her being here doesn’t bother me.”

A smirk twitched her lips. “Good. For a second there I thought you were going to throw down when she sneered at your dress.”

“It wasn’t a sneer,” you huffed.

“It wasn’t, ooh how pretty, either,” Natasha snickered.

You ran your hands down the front of your gown. It was simple, plain, nothing overly fancy. The tunic style had a ‘v’ neckline which showed off the pendant Steve had given you, highlighted by a wide collar embroidered in threads of silver and gold. The long sleeves had bands of braiding around your bicep, while silk brushed the back of your hand from the big flowing cuffs. Made of white wool, it was warm, and you were grateful for the small mercy of getting married in late fall when it was already cooler, to begin with. You wore no belt, no other finery but the ring on your one hand and the gauntlet on your other, and your hair which streamed long and loose down your back like a silk curtain.

Soon you would wear the bridal crown, but not just yet.

“Explain to me why this dress?” Pepper asked, her fingers tracing your sleeve.

“Tradition. A bride goes from her father’s home to her husband’s unadorned but for the bridal crown. It is meant to show purity, and the innocence which you bring to your union.” Natasha snorted, and you smacked her shoulder. “It's metaphorical, dumbass!”

“Oh, good. Or that dress is completely the wrong colour.”

Peter snickered from his place in the corner, and you threw a glare his way. “Watch it, puppy. I’m a lot faster than I used to be.”

“Lips zipped. Promise,” Peter nodded frantically.

“As the Queen of the Valkyrie, nothing I have but myself belongs to Steven. I go to him with nothing but my name and my heart. Therefore, I step out from the mantle of Queen to become his wife. He will never be King of the Valkyrjur. It isn’t done. None of what power I wield is his to command. So I will stand before him as only a woman. A woman who, without her crown, has nothing.”

“What about him?” Peter asked, dropping to the floor.

“Steve,” you smiled. “Let’s just say… the men of Asgard have something to prove and leave it at that.”

When Loki appeared in the doorway, your heart fluttered in anticipation. “It’s time?”

“That it is, darling.” He smiled at the rest of the women, all dressed to the nines but frowned at Peter. “What are you wearing?”

“What?” the boy asked, slinking in on himself. “It was last minute!” And he was still in his everyday school clothes.

“One would think Stark would take better care of his pet,” Loki huffed and flicked his wrist.

“Hey! I’m not a pet-”

You could smell his magic sizzle through the air, then Peter gasped, and you couldn’t help but giggle when the magic faded. He was dressed in a similar style to Loki and Thor. A tunic with a wide belt over tight breeks and high boots.

Loki chuckled. “There. Now you appear to belong in an Asgardian wedding.”

“Holy… holy shit!”

“Peter! Language,” Pepper scolded, motioning toward Laura’s kids.

“Sorry!” he squeaked, dragging his hands down the front of the tunic. “This is just… so cool!”

“Well, proper attire is required if you are to fulfill your duties.”

He gaped at Loki before sputtering, “Me? What duties?”

“The handfasting cord,” you said. “It is the job for the youngest of Steve’s family.”

Peter flushed, the colour burning high in his face at being called family. “But… Shuri is younger.”

You smiled at him and shook your head. “I should have said the male closest to being labelled a man. This is a great honour and responsibility if you’re up to it?”

He stood straighter and nodded. “I am.”

“Good.” You held out your hand for him, leaned in, and kissed his cheek when he took it. “Go with Loki. He’ll give you instructions.”

Peter’s entire face was red, but he grinned broadly and headed for the door where Loki was leaning. The boy glanced at him, and you could read Peter’s nervousness when it came to being around the once villainous God of Mischief.

“Oppfør deg, ugagn.” You warned Loki to behave himself.

“Du ødelegger all min moro, lillesøster,” he pouted.

“I don’t ruin all your fun,” you teased.

“Just most of it,” he quipped, smirking as he dropped his hand on Peter's shoulder and led the boy out the door. “Come along, ladies. Barton will be here to collect (Y/N) any moment.”

“Clint is going to carry the sword?” you asked in surprise.

“He is the closest to kin you have in this world besides myself and Thor. I thought he would suffice.”

“More than suffice,” you agreed, “as long as Laura doesn’t mind me stealing her husband for a few minutes?”

“As long as you promise to give him back,” she laughed, herding the kids before her out the door.

“Lillesøster,” Loki said, standing in the hallway, looking back at you alone in the suite you shared with Steve, your soon to be husband. “I will see you before the fire. May the Norns bless you this day.”

“Loki,” you whispered, tears burning your eyes. “I love you.”

“Such sentiment,” he crooned. “Jeg elsker deg, også.”

You waved him away, well aware he would never admit to his own sentiment in a language other people could understand. Alone now, your nerves bubbled to the surface. A bride’s nerves. A woman’s nerves.

A host of what if’s ran through your head. What if he hated how you looked when arrived? Sharon’s words, though harmless and meant without malice, had niggled their way into your brain and burrowed deep. A little sigh escaped your lips.

You were being foolish. After all, you still had your own surprise planned for Steve. One Bucky had approved, the girls had agreed would blow his mind, and Loki was willing to assist you with.

Even if the ceremony wasn’t exactly what he expected, you were pretty sure he’d enjoy the reception. And, knowing Loki as well as you did, you could only imagine the chaos he’d caused and what attire he’d put Steve in.

You couldn’t wait to see what he looked like. Just the thought sent a rush of heat south.

“Brat?”

You turned to see Clint in the doorway. “Feathers.”

“Loki said something about you needing someone to pack a sword?” He stepped through the door and whistled. “Wow. Not what I was expecting but damn. You clean up nice.”

“Yeah?” you asked, running your hands over your waist, careful of the talons on your right hand. “I know it’s all about the dress and the hair and I… I don’t…”

“Hey.” His strides carried him forward until he could take your hands with his. “You look drop dead gorgeous. Steve is going to swallow his tongue, though… you may have your own moment when you see the getup Loki put him in. Wowza!”

“That good, huh?” you giggled, excitement beginning to replace your nerves.

“He looks like he stepped off some ship from the tenth century except for the fact it’s all a lot more… Asgardian looking. Less rough. More regal.” He held your hands out away from your body and whistled a second time. “But you, brat? You look like a bride fit to stand at his side.”

“Stop. Now you’re just stroking my ego,” you teased and pointed at the silver circlet sitting on the coffee table. “Help me with that?”

Clint picked it up and gave it a spin between his palms. “Pretty fancy. Figured you’d be wearing your crown there, majesty.”

You rolled your eyes and poked him in his suit covered ribs. “Can’t. Technically I go to Steve with nothing but my name. My queendom is not his, will never be his, and I am but a lowly pauper without it.”

“Not quite. You've got all of us. And you’re an Avenger. That’s something.” He lifted the bridal crown and placed it down over your brow and hair, centring the large stone on your forehead. Then, he dug in his pocket. “You have all the bases covered except one. Something old.” He touched the sleeve of your dress. “Something new.” The ring which rested on your left hand. “Something borrowed.” Clint brushed his finger down the stone in the center of your forehead before booping you on the nose. “But what about blue?”

He held out a soft fabric item, and you nearly blushed. “Is that a garter?”

“Yup!” he snickered at what was likely the look on your face. “It was Laura’s. We figured you might not have one with the short notice rush, and seeing as how we’ve been married happily for some years, one could theorize it’s good luck.”

“Theorize? You’ve been hanging out with Bruce again, haven’t you?” you asked, giggling as you took it from him. “Thanks, Clint. To both of you. It’s just what I needed.”

You sat to pull your dress up, and he turned around. “Now you’re a gentleman? Dude, you’ve seen me in yoga shorts and a sports bra!”

“It’s different now!” he barked.

“Why? Cause I’m getting married?”

“Well, yeah. And to Cap.”

“So you don’t want to be on the receiving end of a Cap scowl when he finds out you ogled my thigh?”

“You are a brat!” he huffed, but there was a grin in his voice. “And I’m happily married. The only thighs I ogle are Laura’s.”

“And Bucky’s,” you snickered.

“That was one time, and I was really drunk!” he whined. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Nope!” you laughed, getting up to hug him from the back, arms tight around his waist. “I love you, Clint.”

“Aww, now why’d you have to go and say that?” he asked as the scent of wet salt assaulted your nose.

“Because it’s true.” You let go so he could turn and smiled when he cupped your face.

“You’re like an annoying little sister, you know that right?” he grumbled and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I know. That’s why you get to carry Steve’s sword.”

“Huh?” He gaped at you like a confused puppy, making you giggle.

“I’ll explain on the way. Come on, bro!” You leaned in for one more hug before releasing him to take the first steps toward the man who’d been your husband many times before and who you hoped would be many more times in the future.

Fates willing.

Next Chapter

#rise up #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #valkyrie

192 notes · View notes

tumblunni · 6 years ago

Text

For some reason i randomly ended up thinking up an au thing for the Science Fam from kingdom hearts? Like basically just what if my weirdass headcanons were an original franchise i guess. I always end up doing this whenever my headcanons are unpopular, its like how can i reincarnate this into an oc in order to keep babbling about it until the end of time? XD

Anyway, the idea!

What if Vexen and Lexaeus were ominous ghosts in a big ol haunted castle and also they raise their tiny son Zexion and also everything is very cute and sad.

The backstory would be that they used to be scientists working for this country's king, who unbeknownst to them was Super Fuckin Evil. (Basically Xehanort) And his plan was to sacrifice his country's citizens in order to gain eternal youth for himself, like the trash grandpa he is. But of course the REAL AND GOOD trash grandpa is Vexen! (Well, trash 50 something dadman at least) So all the servants in the evil king's castle get sacrificed for his immortality plot, but it ends up going wrong. The scorned souls of all these innocents have enough combined will to reverse the flow of the spell! So mr trash king gets stuck in a castle full of corrupted undead monsters and pretty quickly receives the exact karma he deserves. "Hahaha i have regained my youthful hotness!" *immediately fuckin eaten by a million zombs* Wow wouldnt it be great if canon xehanort could get this kind of ending too?

Anyway, the boss of the royal knights and the head scientist were the only ghosts with enough strength of will to retain some of their human sentience. It was the guilt of playing a part in helping that trash king's plan, and the desperation to protect their loved ones. Which they didnt really manage to do :( So now they're just left floating around this abandoned castle and having awkwardly adorable rom com shenanigans i guess. Also they found an orphaned human kid in the forest and its like AAAA WE'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH PARENTS FOR YOUUU! Lil baby zexion just wanders into the big ol haunted castle one day and starts huggin the ghosts. Now they cant get him to leave! U need to go back to your own kind, lil mortal!! So thus begins awkward romance and daddings of undead grumps!

I was thinking au Vexen would be a ghost, and look like this ethereal white cloth/feather robe with a shadowy faceless aesthetic. Very floof! And i was thinking maybe the name 'dr angelo' for him? Cos i could see it being a running joke that he's 'more of a demon', yknow? Nobody expects a crusty grumpy whineman of sad! And doubly ironic that his undead form ends up actually looking angelic. But i meam he's a softy deep down, so really it does suit him! And then Lexaeus in this au would be more of a zombie or possessed suit of armour i think? Big badass looking lich king! But i dont have as much ideas for him yet.

And then the plans for the plot would be basically like the jungle book but with a better ending? I have a personal grudge against all atories with the 'moral' that you should leave your family forever and go live with 'your own kind' no matter what. Like seriously that story the Velveteen Rabbit frickin scarred me as a kid, why am i supposed to believe that Rabbit is better off being 'real' and living with the real rabbits that we know NOTHING ABOUT except that they insulted him before and only accept him now cos he's 'normal'. Just fuckin leave everyone you know who loves you, for some complete strangers you know nothing about?? You'll somehow be happier just ebcause theyre 'your own kind'?? And why in these stories is it always a thing that you can NEVER GO BACK or even KEEP IN TOUCH?? Like whenever its about supernatural stuff its always 'when you grow up youre unable to see the magic anymore' yet somehow growing up is still supposed to be Good because leaving your entire family and friends and world for COMPLETE STRANGERS is better just because THEYRE YOUR OWN KIND. And believing in magoc is apparantly bad and immature even when MAGIC IS A LITERAL FACT THAT ACTUALLY EXISTS. And all the magic people just agree that theyre bad and being human is a happy ending all on its own even if the humans act like assholes and do absolutely nothing to deserve all this worship???

Anyway this story would be Not That. Au Zexion does indeed grow up and does indeed meet other humans, but the ending is instead the ghosts and the humans learning to live together in peace. Spoopy ghost castle family meets various human friends who come and live in their big ol empty castle, and together they manage to renovate the place into a bustling town again. And our ghost dads regain the hope that they can have a normal life together with their son, yknow? And they do. The end. BEGINNING IS TRAGIC, WORK TOWARDS HAPPY END. THAT IS THE PLOTS I LIKE IN LIFE.

So yeh thats my shitty au idea i dreamed up at 2am ok bye.

1 note · View note

iitsqii · 7 years ago

Text

6/10/18

IAL #34 Why U should watch TROLLHUNTERS!!

HI hello guys. I hope you guys are having a wonderful Sunday So I changed my posting ot sunday because it feels like a better posting schedule. Also I am planning to post some or a few chapters of my own stories on to this blog. Hoping to hear your guys opinions on my stories I have 3 main ones and I would love to hear the criticism of yours. SO yea look out for that (finger guns)

Now onto the topic of this week TROLLHUNTERS. Now this amazing show had just ended and I recommend anyone who loves fantasy with trolls and trollhunters and amazing worldbuilding. I highly recommend this show

DISCLAIMER: I AM GOING TO BE SPOILING THE WHOLE SHOW FROM HERE ON OUT SO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT SPOILERS PLEASE WAIT FOR MY NEXT POST NEXT SUNDAY OR DM ME A TOPIC THAT YOU ARE INTERESTED. I’M OPEN TO ALL TOPICS

WOW AMAZING BEAUTIFUL- this was my exact reaction in finishing the final season of Trollhunters. Because the 13 eps season put me on a emotional roller coaster ride and I legit cried 3 times while watching this season Mind you I don’t cry that easy guys but man did this show know how to play with your heartstrings. Now lets back it up and talk about the first season and compare it to the last season.

I’m gonna say this to any first season of a kids show is always personally what I have seen from Dreamworks and other cartoons are always the “ basic things we need to know seasons” .This is the season where you meet the characters. You learn the world and premise and about the main character and then something happens that wither is gonna be touched on in the season or touched on the season after or the season after that.

Like for instance from S1 Jim Lake to S3 we watched how he gained more cool armor within his armor because his character was growing and developing through all the hard stakes ad obstacles that he had to go to.

And fam on top of that the upgrades we got from Jim’s armour was a foreshadow of a thing we were gonna see in season 3 and I’m gonna tell you what it iis. JIM BECOMING A TROLL. YES YES that happened. A;so credit to the true person in the trollhunters fandom who saw that and pointed that out personally for me I just thought he had the horns for aesthetics so yeah. Jim we have seen as grown to take the position as troll hunter he understands that fighting Gunmar is the most important ttroll to defeat.

Toby or tobias Jim best friend is also a well-rounded amazing best friend because he is so supportive of jim even when he didn’t know he was the trollhunter. Everyone needs a toby in their life seriously. And in S3 I’m glad they showed how important he is also needed in the main group

Claire OH MY GOSH CLAIRE. I Love her to bits. If you compared my first reaction to her when we first met her season I was thinking “great she is gonna be a damsel in distress” or she is only gonna be there as Jim's love interest. Yeah that didn’t happen of her being a damsel in distress but a badass girl who can take care of herself and her and jim end up together. We also see how super powerful she is in S3 vs Morgana. My literal reaction was ‘HELL YEAH CLAIRE KICK HER BUTT”

So yeah I am super satisfied with how this showed ended. Again if you livee fantasy as much as I do. Pls give this show a watch

My question to you guys these week is are there any cartoons are shows that you love that I should watch? What’s your favorite cartoons?

Pls like reblog and I hope you guys have a wonderful Sunday.

PAPA T OUT!

Oh and one announcement I’m going to be posting one chapter out of my superhero story. Criticism is super welcome. I will be posting it in this blog.

Okay I love you guys and I hope you have a great morning night and afternoon. Bye guys love <3 YOU

#I’m A Lerido #P34 #trollhunters #trollhunters season 3

5 notes · View notes

stetersecretsanta · 7 years ago

Text

Five times peter and Stiles pretended to be in a relationship and the one time they were

This is for @greenmornings I hope you enjoys and I am sorry it is a WIP. Warning there is some mention of what happened between Derek and Kate.

Part 1- The beginning

Stiles was beginning to get sick of the man in front of him. Danny had dragged him to the Jungle after Stiles had finally admitted to the other man that he is bisexual. Danny looked at him, shook his head then said, “You are attractive to gay guys, but you are not my type”, Styles could both understand and respect that point. Something Stiles wished the guy blocking him against the bar.

“come on baby boy I can show you a good time.” The man in front of him was blond and skinny, with far too much alcohol on his breath, he was unfortunately made stronger by the alcohol and Stiles didn’t want to start a fight and show his dad up. Scanning the crowd Stiles desperately looked-for Danny hoping that the other guy could help him out of the situation. Unfortunately, Danny was nowhere to be seen and Stiles had a feeling the confrontation would end with him being thrown out.

“Look man, I have told you a dozen times already, I have a boyfriend and even if I didn’t I’m not interested.” Stiles tried one more time.

“Yeah right, where is he then, if you were mine I’d never let you out of my sight” he slurred before grabbing Stiles arm.

Just as fast as the hand grabbed him it was gone and a howl of pain came from Mr grab hands, looking behind the fool, Stiles could not help but smirk.

Peter Hale stood behind the guy, snarl on his face eyes flashing ever so slightly blue.

“When my partner tells you to leave him alone, you leave him alone.” Peter growled in the other mans face. The idiot was obviously much drunker than Stiles originally thought, because even though Peter had shown his strength the guy just wouldn’t give in.

“Yeah right, as if he would date someone old as you. Fuck off man can’t you see I’m about to seal the deal with him” he bragged before trying to pull his arm out of Peters grip. Before Peter did something he regretted Stiles darted around the other man to peter, taking a grip of Peters shirt Stiles pulled him down and into a passionate kiss. Peter soon let the other man go, so he could wrap both arms around Stiles. They were drawn apart by the shouting of the man behind them.

“… Freak, you must be old enough to be his father. What the hell is wrong with you. Don’t worry baby boy I will save you from this pervert.” He said before moving forward to attack Peter before being intercepted by Danny.

“Ryan dude what the hell. I saw the whole thing and the only one being creepy is you. Take a walk man.” Danny said before handing Ryan off to a couple of bouncers who he had called over. Stiles peeked around Peter -who had pushed Stiles behind him when Ryan started screaming- before walking forward to stand beside the older man. Peter put his arm around Stiles shoulder in a show of protectiveness.

Danny turned back to them and smiled at their position, Stiles arm having snaked around Peters waist.

“Sorry man, If I’d known he was in tonight I never would have left you on your, Ryan has always been a dick that hasn’t known that no means no. Looks like you don’t need me though you have your own knight in shining armour.” Danny gave peter a slow and obvious once over. Before winking at Stiles.

“I approve” He said before walking off into the throng of people.

Stiles groaned and buried his head Peters shoulder.

“What’s wrong” Peter asked eyes scanning over Stiles for an injury he had missed.

“Danny is the biggest gossip in school because everyone likes him, and everyone talks to him. So, by Monday everyone will think your dating me.” Stiles answered then stumbled as peter pulled away.

“So sorry that everyone will think your dating an old man.” Peter huffed before turning to walk away.

“Dude no, I didn’t mean that. It just that everyone is going to know you are dating the town screw up. Also dude your not that old your only 32 and I was held back a year in first grade because of my ADHD so I’m 18. Legal age dude.” Stiles said only to have his face gently taken in Peters hands.

“You are not a screw up; every single member of that pack would be dead already if it wasn’t for you. I will be proud to have my name along side yours.” Peter said sincerity ringing in every word.

“You know your going to have to put up with my dad right.” Stiles said a smile stretched over his face.

“And we will both have to put up with Malia who will be unbearable as she saw you first. But on the bright side imagine Derek’s face.” Peter smirked while Stiles burst out laughing.

“Fake boyfriend?” Stiles asked with a smile.

“Fake Boyfriends” Peter agreed mirroring his smile.

Part 2- Malia

Peter and Stiles had been texting during the weekend to work out the kinks of their fake relationship, such as how they started dating (Peter helping Stiles with his Emissary training, creating a friendship that turned into more.) Did they have pet names for each other (Wilk for Peter and Hud for Stiles.) How long have they been dating (Three months, four months after he broke up with Malia.) As well as other such questions that could come up.

However, despite that Stiles couldn’t help but be worried about the reactions especially Malia who he had dated. Unfortunately she was completely unable to keep a secret so they couldn’t tell her about the deception. So, with a sigh Stiles hitched his backpack further up onto his shoulder and braced himself before walking into school.

He had barely been in school five minutes when a snarling Malia grabbed his arm and yanked him ruffle into the boys changing room. Before Stiles could get a word out he was flung against the lockers and pinned there by a pissed off snarling woman.

“What kind of game are you playing.” Malia snarled eyes electric blue.

“Playing what game, I don’t know what you mean, there’s no game…” Stiles rambled only to be shoved up against the lockers harder. “Squishy human… need to breath” Stiles panted, which caused Malia to finally releases her grip slightly.

“My dad, what the hell are you doing with my dad” she asked. Stiles realised in that moment that Malia was worried that he was using her dad.

“Dating him” Stiles answered only to get a scoff in return “No seriously, he started helping me with my emissary training, because of the number of magical books he has. Then we started going to dinner outside of beacon and then it sort of snow balled from there. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.” Stiles explained prompting Malia to let go of him. As she stepped away her body language changing from hostile to fragile.

“Was that the reason you dated me, because you thought you couldn’t have him.” She asked, shoulders slumped and her head down. Stiles rushed forward and quickly pulled her into his arms.

“No, never. When we met I didn’t even know you where a Hale, I hadn’t even thought of him like that before we started hanging out… well I mean I had but only because he looks like that, I mean who wouldn’t have a few fantasies… well obviously you wouldn’t because you’re his daughter. But other than you… and Scott… and Derek… you know what maybe it was just me.” By this point in his rambling Malia was hanging on to him to keep standing because of how hard she was laughing, Stiles smiled mission accomplished.

“Okay, at least I know he has taste.” She told him broad smile on her face.

“That he does” Stiles replied holding out his arm for her to take, which she did. Swinging her hair over her shoulder they walked out of the locker room and walked down the hall, everyone parting in their wake.

“Want to go to the mall tonight and make my dad buy us stuff, we don’t actually need” Malia asked before they walked into homeroom smirk firmly on her face.

“Oh yeah.” Stiles answered with a smirk of his own.

Part 3- Derek

Stiles and Malia dragged Peter to the mall after school, he followed behind them carrying bags with a resigned air of someone who had grown up around shopaholics. Despite his continued grumbling he was brilliant at knowing long lasting fashion trends and what colours would look best on his two younger companions. Which is how he was sitting in a dressing room waiting for his daughter and Stiles to model their latest picks.

Malia came out first modelling a white strapless shirt, short black leather skirt with a top to bottom and four-inch sliver stiletto shoes. She managed to seamlessly pull off sexy, badass and touch me and die with that one look.

“Wow, you are getting that right” Peter asked.

“Totally, I’m kinda surprised that you aren’t shouting about keeping myself covered up” Malia admitted.

“Why would I, your body is just that yours. Plus, if anyone gets to close I know you can make sure they don’t touch if you don’t want them to.” Peter told her, he would never understand people who tried to control what their partner and/or children wore. Before he could say anymore Stiles came out.

Stiles looked slightly uncomfortable for half a second before squaring his shoulders and coming to stand beside Malia. A green wife beater brought out the green in his hazel eyes, and drew attention to his muscles built from fighting the supernatural baddy of the week. Skin tight black leather trousers drew attention to his very long legs and the look was finished off with paint splattered sneakers adding a pop of colour to the outfit.

Looking at him Peters pupils became wide; his eyes flashed blue and he gave off enough pheromones to have Malia wrinkling he nose. Standing Peter stalked forward and took Stiles around the waist.

“You look edible.” Peter growled his eyes flashing blue, which caused Stiles heart rate to kick up a notch whether from fear or excitement he wasn’t sure. Before he had time to analyse that, lips were on his and he was being kissed passionately, in a way that stole the air from his lungs and left him craving more.

Malia made a noise somewhere between a coo and a snort of disgust. Turning she was about to walk back into the dressing room when a snarl came from behind her which did not belong to her father because it raised the hairs on her neck. She turned around just in time to see her father go flying into the partition for the dressing rooms, causing the whole lot to fall like dominos. Wincing both for her father and the fact that the store was going to call the cops, Malia groaned when she saw Derek Hale about to lay into her father.

“What the fuck dude you can’t just assault someone like that, especially not Peter.” Stiles cried putting himself between Derek and Peter unwilling to let any harm come to Peter who was staggering to his feet.

“Move” Derek growled fully shifted into his beta form. Malia quickly crossed the space in front of her and went to stand with Stiles in a protective position.

“Not until you calm down and explain what the hell you think your doing.” Stiles Snarled back doing a damn fine impression of a werewolf himself.

“The better question is what the hell is Peter doing. It make you feel like a big man to kiss stiles in front of your daughter who is dating him. Does it make you feel strong to force yourself on someone under age?” Derek screamed while trying to get around Stiles and Malia to Peter. Stiles didn’t know whether to laugh because of how wrong all of that was, or cry because of how much Derek’s previous trauma obviously still hurt him.

“Derek Stiles and I broke up like seventh months ago, we both agreed we were only together because we saw each other as a safe option.” Malia answered causing Derek to stop fighting against them both so hard.

“Derek dude I’m almost 19, I was held back in first grade because my ADHD had me miss so much school, Scott and everyone else is a year younger than me.” Stiles explained making sure to keep his voice calm and even.

The blood seemed to drain out of his face as he shifted back at this revelation. Peter pushed past the two people in front of him before taking his nephew by the shoulders.

“I am so sorry for what happened to you if I could go back and kill that bitch more slowly I would, but I can’t. I promise you Derek I will never be with anyone that doesn’t want me, I would never betray Malia by stealing her boyfriend. Derek I’m sorry we should have told you.” Peter said maintaining eye contact with the other man. Derek nodded before gripping his uncle’s wrists and pressing their foreheads together.

At that moment there was a yell of

“Stiles! Ah crap kid what did you do this time.” The sheriff sighed surveying the wreckage. “Do I even want to know kid, or do I just charge you all with public disturbance” Noah asked pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That was my fault sir I misunderstood the nature of Stiles relationship with Peter. I will pay for the damages to the shop.” Derek said. Which caused Noah to look sharply at Stiles who seemed to shrink.

“What relationship would that be Stiles?” John asked looking between his son and Peter who had come over to stand next to Stiles.

After taking a deep breath Stiles answered, “Peter and I have been dating for the last three months.”

“You have to be shitting me kid, seriously? Fine you know what fine. Peter, you better be over for family dinner tomorrow. Derek, you can work out repayment with the owners. I am going to get a burger and fries. Stiles get changed your coming with me.” With that the Sheriff walked out of the shop.

“I’m so screwed” Stiles muttered.

#Steter #steter secret santa #submission

10 notes · View notes

fierytragcdy · 5 years ago

Text

eddie & richie.

although he’s been trying to play dumb, he struggles to keep it up when he brushes through eddie’s hair and the heart rate monitor picks up again. the sound now causing his own heart to surge; both due to that uncontrollable concern that something bad might happen to eddie, but also because he’s so happy…happy that he can make the other male react that way. eddie had him wrapped around his little finger, even if he didn’t know it. “do you need a nurse now?” he asks then, biting into his smile as he curls a few strands of his own hair around his finger, too focused on eddie to even realise what he was doing. as much as he loved everyone, as much as he’d do anything for any of them – eddie had and would continue to hold a special place in his heart. he’d defend him to the death and he’d keep him as safe as he could, always watch out for him, protect him. even if he hadn’t been able to for twenty seven years, it was much like riding a bike…he could never forget how to do so really, never wanted to, either.

laughter falls from his lips at the joke that had escaped them only moments prior. it was insensitive, he knew that much – but he couldn’t quite help himself. it was in his nature to make even the most ghastly of situations funny, if it were possible. most of all when those situations concerned eddie. he wanted to see the male laughing again, had missed the sound so much more than he’d been allowed to remember. but now he was there with him, had been able to truly focus on all the times that they’d shared; he knew with no doubt that eddie’s laughter was in fact his favourite sound. “if you don’t know what you’re getting from me by now, kaspbrak that is your fault, not mine.” richie speaks as though he’s reminding him of it, but the beam that takes hold is more than enough ( he hopes ) to assure eddie that he didn’t mean any harm. he just didn’t know what else to say, aware that admitting to being there for every single second since the moment he’d been allowed to would be a confession he wasn’t entirely sure eddie was in the right frame of mind for. or maybe that was an excuse. his smile only grows as eddie asks for him to join him on the bed. “i think you pull it off, actually. well – you didn’t pull it off, but…you look real badass. anyone who didn’t know you would think you were real interesting.” it’s hard for him to stop joking around, especially when he felt so much inside of himself. it was his way of protecting himself. the armour he wore and wore really well, every single day.

“alright, needy.” richie teases, though he’s immediately doing as he’s been commanded to. carefully moving eddie up, arms strong; hands certain. this was no time for the shakes. “are you okay there?” the question falls gently as he sits himself down next to him on the bed; one arm wrapped around eddie’s shoulders, one leg raised against the bed; free hand awkwardly resting upon it. he chooses not to add the other leg until he has confirmation that this was okay, that eddie felt comfortable – as comfortable as he could, at least. “how are you feeling?” with far too much curiosity and a need so potent to know that eddie was okay, he allows his walls down for a moment. fingers gentle as they brush through his hair. “you gave us all a real fright, you know that?” the fright had got to him most of all and he’s sure the bags under his eyes and dishevelled scruff upon his head could attest to that. try as he might to disguise his feelings, he loved eddie. loves eddie. he’d made it clear the moment that he’d seen him get hurt, when he’d refused to prepare for the worst. he doesn’t know if eddie remembers any of that, the heartache that could be heard in the croak of his pleas, in the way that he’d clung and not let go until the doctors and nurses had assured him that they’d do all they could. as hard as he’d tried to hide how he felt, who he was, what he was – he never really could when it came to eddie. he knew that life was too short and that nobody really knew what lurked around the corner…even if pennywise had been defeated.

“thought i should probably save you, since you saved me…but, don’t let it get to your head…” richie speaks, though he’s yet to take his eyes off of him; hearts were practically shooting out of the both of them, fingers yet to stop their motions. no. he knew in that moment that he never had and never could feel this way for anyone else. eddie was his person; the one that challenged him when he was being difficult, the one who had his back when it really counted, the one he looked for in crowded spaces, had continued to look for…even when he was unsure of what he was supposed to be finding. “i have been here this whole time.” he admits, “i’m a way better friend than the others and now you can admit it.” even using the word friend feels so wrong coming out of his mouth, leaves a bitter taste he can’t say he likes and he winces over it immediately. his free hand cups eddie’s cheek, gently brushing over the scarred skin. “told you, you were braver than you thought. always right too, don’t know how i manage it.”

eddie knows for a fact that it is disgustingly obvious that the rise in his heart rate is connected to richie being near him and touching him and talking to him. he just hopes that richie has enough tact to keep that knowledge to himself. oh, who was he kidding? richie and tact in the same sentence? unheard of. “no. really. i’m... i don’t know what’s wrong with that machine, but i’m good,” he says slowly, laughing a little uneasily. he doesn’t know why he wants so desperately to convince richie that it’s a fault with the machine, because if he really thought that, he would want a nurse there to change the machine over. he felt like a kid again, nervous and unsure around his crush. and perhaps that was exactly what he was right now, nervous around the only guy to ever make his stomach do flips and somersaults and make his heart beat crazily fast. the worst part? eddie knew that richie had absolutely no idea that what he did drove him crazy. just as he knew that he had no idea back when they were kids. eddie only fed into things that he said and reacted how he had because of the way he felt. the butterflies in his stomach and scared and confused him and he only knew to tell richie to fuck off because that was natural. the way he felt when he looked at him smile was not.

he would have been surprised if richie hadn’t made some dumb joke about the whole ordeal. sure, it was insensitive and rude and if anybody else had said it, eddie would have been throwing something at them. but it was richie and richie laughed at his own jokes most of the time and eddie loved the sound of his laugh. it was hearty and warm and his heart skipped a beat each time he heard it. “please, if i wasn’t aware of the shit you pull by now, what even was our friendship as kids? you bullied me, mr. tozier. i’ll go to the paps about it. you think they’d eat up a story like that? i can see the headline now; richie tozier: a childhood bully?” he snorts and shakes his head, resting his cheek against his shoulder as he looks at richie. he looks so tired and eddie just wants to comb his fingers through his hair and tell him he can sleep. he’s sure the others have tried, but eddie’s fairly confident that if he told him it was safe and okay to, he would do it. “right, i take it back. that is the most insensitive thing you’ve ever said to me. you don’t think i’m interesting, rich?” eddie has managed to perfect the puppy dog eyes over the course of his lifetime. to be fair, he never actually set out to try, it just sort of happened as time went on and he was sad. he would catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and notice the way his eyes seemed so bright and watery, the curve of his pouted lips and the crease of his forehead. it was easy to put that face on now, directing it entirely at richie.

somewhere from asking richie to lay in the bed with him and richie actually moving to do it, eddie’s mind didn’t take a second to process that richie would have to touch him to make space for himself. his mouth goes a little dry when he has richie’s hands on his body and, okay, sure, it’s only brief and it’s only to move him over on the bed, but wow. it was a different way to be touched by richie, because before now, it had been in terror or comfort, trying to make sure he was safe. now, there was an element of that, but it was so much softer and lighter than he had expected and his heart rate picked up once more. if he could have reached, he would have turned it off by now. it was doing too much. “y-yeah. you can get on properly, i’m okay.” eddie leans in and rests his cheek against richie’s shoulder to prove that he’s fine and that richie has more than enough room to lay on the bed and get comfortable with him. it hurts a little as he shifts, but he moves to roll onto his side and hooks his leg over the leg richie has placed on the bed. “i’m sorry,” he says softly, pressing the tip of his nose against his broad shoulder, sighing quietly. he couldn’t even begin to imagine how it had felt to sit in this room for days on end and not know when he would be okay. god, if their positions had been switched, he would have lost his damn mind.

“uh huh. you repaid your favour, i understand.” when they were younger, eddie had always been grateful for richie being able to make light of things. the others were so fucking serious and it made him nauseous when they talked about their experiences with pennywise. but richie had been able to laugh it off and put eddie at ease. he just wished he knew when to take things seriously. like now, for example. eddie wanted a little more... sensibility to this situation. but richie wanted to bring the humour into it and eddie wanted to smack his stupid face. his eyes soften and he leans into the hand on his cheek, his own fingers tightening on the grip he had on richie’s. “you’re the best of the best, richie tozier,” he whispers, staring up at richie with wide eyes. it’s hard not to realise that his heart keeps picking up when he looks at richie because he loves him. or that butterflies fill his stomach because he loves him. or that he wants to kiss him so fucking badly because he loves him. and not like how he loves the others. “i’m only braver than i think because you believe in me, rich. saved you because you, and i guess bev, told me i could do it.” without thinking, eddie presses a light kiss against his shoulder and hums. “this is mine, isn’t it?” head pulls back just enough to look properly and the smile tugging at his lips is unmistakably for richie and richie alone. “you miss me that much, trashmouth? had to resort to stealing my clothes?”

#fervour #interactions: eddie kaspbrak.#featuring: eddie & richie.

14 notes · View notes