Imagine having to live in Hidden Valley. Forced to adopt vegetarianism, forced to eat ranch with every single meal, forced to work the fields to appease the council of elders, forced to toss at least two children into the “Ranch Hole” per month for a bountiful harvest…
One time, Bruce was violently awakened at stupid-early o’clock (7.30am) by his cell-phone, and he was bleary and cranky and he answered it; “Ngnnghmf? Tim?”
And Tim said, “…how casual?“
Bruce, resisting the urge to smother himself with his own pillow and/or toss his phone against the wall, managed a (reasonably) coherent, “What.” “It’s business casual Friday, Bruce! Seriously, how casual is too casual?”
Word count: 5300+ Pairing: pre-serum!Steve Rogers & female!tomboy!Reader Warnings: violence, swearing, kissing Summary: You aren’t the average woman of the 40′s, but Steve adores you nevertheless. He isn’t the average man of the 40′s, but you love him nevertheless as well. After seventy years in ice and no information about your whereabouts after he left for war, he didn’t think he would see you again. A/N: I wrote at this for two weeks, even though I really wanted to post it sooner. I googled so much about the 40′s, haha. Enjoy!
Even though Allura was frozen for such a long time one of the other princesses she used to know is still alive. (And looking as young as ever that cheat.)
It really tries her patience to deal with her. She has to go back to the meditating that her father taught her long ago. But what really gets her upset is that the fact this other princess is trying so hard to steal her paladins away.
It works, a little new things always makes her paladins run around. Something she learns to love over time. But right now she hates it. She feels small again and she feels like she’s not enough.
Coran tells her that she doesn’t have to worry. But this other princess is known for using dirty tricks to get what she wants.
She sees the princess talking to Lance and right away Allura feels her heart stop. Lance was the paladin who was always in her corner. She hides quickly so she can’t be seen and listens to the princess bad mouth her to Lance. Enough for her to nearly rip a hole through her dress.
But Lance just…stops her? Lance defends Allura even though no one else can hear it. She hears Lance talk about how amazing she is and she knows it isn’t for show.
Its to the point where she’s near tears and she hears Lance say, “If you ever threaten Allura again, I’ll deal with you myself.”
Allura feels her heart skip and runs off. After everything is said and done the team agrees that the other princess was kind of a jerk.
Lance throws her a pick up line that makes everyone groan. Hunk slowly pushes Lance out of the room, much to his protest, but everything stops because -
How did it go again?? Oh right -
“Ah, w-well you’re out of this world,” Allura manages to stutter out. How did Lance manage to do this all the time??
Allura was flirting back with Lance. A part of her, a rather tiny part, thought Lance would gloat instead he just smiled as bright as the sun.
“Now that’s a good one! OW - Hunk, sheesh, be more gentl - okay, okay I’m going!”
Peter wasn’t really having a great patrol tonight. So far, a bank robber had nearly gotten away from him, a carjacker had almost run him over, and a mugger had managed to kick him really, really hard in a place he really did not want to be kicked.
And to top it all off, he was currently swinging around Brooklyn trying to locate what had been reported on the police scanner as a ‘Spider-man look-alike’. Because that’s exactly what he wanted; more wannabes getting hurt trying to be heroes.
He stopped and landed on a shabby apartment building as he neared the area that had been reported. He couldn’t see or hear anything that sounded like a crime in progress, but that didn’t really mean much.
Then, suddenly, a fuckton of gunfire erupted from the building across the street from his. Peter jumped and (despite his obvious courage and fearlessness because he’s Spider-man goddammit) ducked behind the edge of the building’s roof.
After a solid thirty seconds of the gunfire, it suddenly stopped. No final shots, no stragglers. It just…stopped. Very, very cautiously, Peter peered back over the edge of the building to look down.
And walking out of the building, with a much too happy walk for someone who should be riddled with bullet holes, was someone dressed…as a crappy Spider-man? Peter couldn’t really tell. They had on a red bodysuit, and had more weapons than Peter had ever seen in one place. And he saw Tony during his hyper-security phase.
Slowly, Peter climbed over the ledge and made his way down his building towards the man, who was luckily coming towards him. When he was reasonably close, but not spotted, he shot a web and stuck the man’s hands to the wall. The man promptly shrieked.
Peter jumped down and landed in front of him. “I’d suggest you stop struggling. It’ll just get stuck in your weapons.”
The man looked at him and gasped. “Is this your sticky white stuff? It’s nice sticky white stuff.”
Peter rolled his eyes. Another one of these guys. “Yeah, sure. Got a good explanation for having enough firearms to arm an entire police force? It’s kind of ironic, since you’re going to prison for this.” Peter said, pulling out his phone to contact the police.
“What?” the man exclaimed, sounding offended, of all things. “I don’t even get to fight for my freedom?”
“No, you don’t. That’s not how it works.”
“Why not? I won’t even use my guns! Or knives!” the man insisted.
Peter narrowed his eyes at him, even if he wouldn’t be able to tell through his mask. “Something tells me you have other weapons than just those.”
“Fine, I won’t use any of those, either. Now can we duel?”
“Nope. I’d rather just watch you get arrested, then I can go home and enjoy knowing that you’re in jail.”
The man narrowed his masked eyes at him, and somehow, Peter could tell. “Well, that’s just rude. Let a man have some pride, dammit! Fight me, you attractive stranger!”
“Not a chance in hell.” Peter said, leaning against the brick a few feet away and crossing his arms.
After that, to Peter’s surprise, the man fell silent. Peter sighed in relief and pulled out his phone again. May as well play Candy Crush.
Then, son of a bitch, the man took off down the street.
Peter nearly jumps out of his skin when he does. He has no idea why his spider-senses just failed him so spectacularly. After a moment of double-checking to make sure he didn’t just have a heart attack, he swears rather loudly and uses a streetlight to catch up to the man, who’s running and trying to get the webbing off of his hands at the same time. He swings hard and uses his momentum to launch himself to land on top of the runaway.
Instead of collapsing like a normal person, the guy stumbles, looks at him once, then just keeps running down the street with Peter on his back like he weighs nothing.
Peter, despite the situation and the fact that this man could be very dangerous, laughs. He laughs harder than he has all day. Because he’s in the middle of Brooklyn, a place he rarely goes, it’s three in the morning, and he just landed on top of a criminal who just decided to give him a piggyback ride.
The man looks back up at him over his shoulder, then starts to slowly laugh with him. He laughs just as hard as Peter, and there’s about three seconds of hilarity before the man trips over a crack in the sidewalk and face-plants, sending Peter flying.
Both of them sit there for a moment, laugh a little bit more, then Peter stands, walks over to him, and webs his feet to the concrete. When he reaches a hand for a knife, he webs that hand to the concrete, too.
“Aw, what? I gave you a piggyback ride!” the man complains, waving his only free hand.
“And it was fun. But you’re still a criminal.” Peter points out, looking down at him.
“You are the worst. We had fun!”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Who are you, anyway? Trying to be a superhero?”
The masked man somehow rolled his eyes. “No. I’m Deadpool. Anti-hero extraordinaire. Merc with a mouth. Or, if you’re special, Wade Wilson.” Deadpool said, holding out his only free hand.
Peter slowly shook it. “I’m Spider-man.”
“I know. Your ass has been in so many dreams of mine.”
Peter scrunched his nose. “Great,” he started, then heard sirens in the distance. About damn time. “Well, I’m gonna get going. Looks like you’ll be all taken care of.”
Deadpool (or Wade, Peter wasn’t sure what to call him) perked up at the sound of the sirens. “Ah, dammit. C’mon, Spidey, cut a guy some slack!”
“You literally shot up a building less than ten minutes ago.” Peter deadpanned, preparing to swing away.
“Spidey! Can I at least see you again?” Wade pleaded, begging with the one hand he had left.
“Sure.” Peter answered, then swung away, leaving him to the police and ignoring the pleas following him.