#zzapzzaptasers

starter for @zzapzzaptasers

“Woah, woah, woah, woah! What do you think!? Maximum occupancy has been reached,” Tony Stark’s voice carries beyond the doors and Loki is relieved to see that green monster be denied access the small contained space of the elevator.  He did not want to be in any enclosed environment with that thing for long  - not after it bashed him around, whipping him through the air like a ragdoll in a way that Asgardian durability did him little good.  His ribs throbbed, his head ached, and his body hurt in more ways than he knew possible.  

Loki waves the kindest toodaloo to the Hulk, flinching as the man...beast? strikes out with a massive fist leaving an indention in the metal larger than Thor’s head.  The descent to the lobby is maddeningly quiet and Loki can feel the edges of the metallic muzzle digging into the skin around his mouth.  He tries to wiggle his lips, but the edges do not give one bit.  A sign, an eye roll, and he takes to occupying the short time by eyeing each of the Avengers, cataloging fatigue and visible injuries for the future potential escape opportunity.  Most of them are quite winded, and loathe as he is to admit it, so is he, feeling much like one coming out of a feverish illness on top of being the Hulk’s plaything for a good minute or so.

@zzapzzaptasers

The kiss is unexpected.

It’s amazing how often Pietro surprises her, inspite of all the ways she thinks he’s become predictable. But she’s dragging him – really letting him have it, verbally speaking, when he leans in all of a sudden and…

Mwah.

Ocean colored eyes narrow suspiciously. She doesn’t know what kind of game he’s playing and Darcy is certain she doesn’t like it.

“Again.”

It is not a request.

Why, exactly, has Pietro decided to try shutting her up by kissing her?

Honestly, it’s because he’s tried just about everything else. She won’t.

Fucking.

Shut up.

He’s pleased it seems to have worked, and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a cocky smirk as he crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his shoulders in the way he so often does when he feels victorious. Especially since her eyes have narrowed to peer at him, like she’s trying to read his mind.

A slim silver brow arches when she commands him to kiss her again. His tongue presses against the corner of his mouth thoughtfully before sweeping over his lower lip, his arms uncrossing from his chest and his fingers lacing instead behind his back.

Pietro leans in, nose to nose, his eyes growing half-lidded, tipping his chin forward slightly until their lips are mere millimeters apart.

Simon snorted at the response, it’s not common that people know that little fact and he shrugged. “Yeah when you’re a sniper in a ghillie suit in the middle of nowhere and you munch on the coffee grinds instead of drinking coffee then you come at me with those tiny packets of sugar and creamer.” His tone is teasing and amused. 

He likes her already and her antics as she slurps the drink in the most audible manner possible. 

                  “Would ya-- would ya stop laughin’?” 

           Cause, she has been. For a good minute now. As if he’d said the funniest joke in the entire universe. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. This is Darcy, after all. She looks at him like he’s some little brother she has to look after and he has no idea how that even happened. It’s not something he’s ever been bothered by until this very second when he really needs her to take him seriously.

His fault they’re in this situation, but there isn’t time to think about it, wouldn’t be even if he wasn’t having his braincells smacked out of him one bloodied and horrible blow at a time. Frank is struggling until he isn’t, because there’s only so much you can do when you’re being beaten nearly unconscious, and all he can think is Darcy Darcy Darcy for her to hide to run to do something-

His ears are ringing suddenly, the world spinning hard--blood and spattered gore, the guy above him dropping like lead--the wind knocked out of him, nearly enough to make him throw up--and Darcy, Darcy, her breathing high and fast.

Frank takes a second just to breathe, to recover. To fight down the washing nausea and dark at the edges of his vision.

Get up. Go to her.

He rolls the body off of him, picks himself up slowly, whole body like shattered glass. Hurts even to move but that’s never stopped him before and won’t now: he limps to Darcy, making those gentle shshsh noises like calming a spooked animal. Hands outstretched but not quite touching.

@zzapzzaptasers​ said: 😘 we all know Bruce doesn’t need a strong come-on game anyways

send 😘 for my muse to use a bad pickup line on yours

First of all how the FUCK did you fit all of that in one ask. What sorcery is this.

And second of all AHHHHH!!!! AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!! G-D!!!!!!

Arthur would be so fucking relieved at first, like when the weirdness between her and Dutch starts to ease up and Dutch moves onto Molly he’s kind of just like oh thank fuck because it could’ve gone SO MUCH WORSE, and Arthur--being a himbo--sees the way Dutch is with Molly (genuinely seems really invested in her, is just overall kind and patient and good with her in the beginning) and is like huh, maybe this one WILL work out :0

And then ofc everything starts going to shit and Dutch’s mental health takes another downturn and ON TOP OF ALL OF THAT DARCY STARTS PURSUING DUTCH AGAIN BUT REALLY PURSUING HIM THIS TIME and Arthur is just. G-d he’s so tired. He’s so tired and so SAD because Darcy deserves BETTER and he can’t reconcile like... the whole “why AM I so uncomfortable with this?? they’re adults, Dutch is good to women even if it all goes badly, Darcy can do what she wants and we’re just friends” and AUGH