#what im saying is I think Captain Marvel is equally as boring as Captain America LOL

[sidsinning]

Classic Disney Princesses Need More Respect (except for Aurora...go back to bed)!!!

Can't people understand even if they're more subtle in how they do it, Snow White and Cinderella are absolutely rebelling against their mothers' tyranny in their own ways to survive, they just don't go in guns blazing with a crossbow or something lol. It’s why despite how docile and soft they seem on the outside, they’re still pissing off their step moms who are trying hard to thwart them.

They make the best out of their situations, whether they are secretly making a dress to have a small bit of happiness in their otherwise hard and degrading life, or working their ass off taking care of 7 crusty men to pay rent at 14 years old while hiding from their murderous step mother.

Just bc they receive help from people like the dwarves or a fairy godmother doesn’t mean they’re waiting for someone else to save the day (btw especially Cinderella!!! Fuck yalls sayin she sat around she was yelling orders to her mice friends on how to get her tf out!!!). They got help from people (or animals) bc of good karma. They’re good to people despite how they’re treated which awarded them with good company (besides Snow’s prince,,,,eugh).

Btw both are victims of abuse to which they have been conditioned from a young age to accept as normal. You can't just turn to a little girl being abused by their parent and go, "um, aren't you gonna do something about this? Smh where's the girl power?" That's literally victim blaming!! They're kids bitch!!!

THESE movies are great examples of why "feminine" traits such as kindess and generosity are admirable traits and not weaknesses!

Idk these days I think we need more of this energy than like,,,,women punch = good woman character lol

GIVE THE CLASSICS SOME CREDIT IS WHAT I AM SAYING EVEN IF THEY’RE NOT PERFECT EXAMPLES OF FEMINISM AT TIMES

[sirius-archive]

Champagne Kisses

Request: Georgie!!! Hey!!! Can I please have prompt 1, 5 and 18 with Steve Rogers??? Love your writing!!

Prompts: 1. That’s starting to get annoying, 5. I’m not here to make friends 18. What’s the matter, sweetie?

Prompts: Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: finally got around to finishing this!! First Drabble in the Drabble challenge! This is a first for this blog: a marvel imagine!! Pls request more.

In which Steve Rogers does not become an old man, Clint Barton is Single and Ready To Mingle, and Natasha Romanoff is [avengers endgame spoiler]

Enjoy!

***

In theory, the mission is fairly simple: Crash the rich dudes party, steal the biochemical weapon, and slap a lifetime sentence on said rich dude before he can take another sip of his ridiculously expensive champagne.

There is, however, one contingency that always seems to fuck theoretically simple missions up.

“Fuck!” Natasha’s voice is in your ear; a husky curse that tapers off into an irritated sigh, making the ear piece nestled in the shell of your ear crackle, “Dawson must have amped up the security once he got wind that the weapon’s in demand. There’s guards crawling all over the place. It’s starting to get annoying...”

Her words are cut off with a sharp grunt and you hear the crunch of broken bones low groans of pain as Natasha takes each one of them out. Glancing around the large ballroom, you spot several security guards loitering around the exit, looking equal parts bored and boring, and realise that Natasha is right.

“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun without a fist fight,” you sigh, twirling a ribbon of hair around your finger, chewing the velvety flesh of your cheek in annoyance.

“A woman after my own heart,” Natasha quips, a little breathless as you hear the crack of her knuckles against flesh.

“Tasha, you’d better not be flirting while I’m listening in,” You hear Clint quip, and you can almost hear the smirk tilting his lips as it curls up the edges of his words.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, your fingertips skimming across the spaghetti-string strap of your halter neck dress, “And what are you going to do about it, Clinton?”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ve always got something up my sleeve.”

You take an elegant sip from your flute of champagne, hiding your smirk, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Are you guys done?” Says a familiar baritone, and your breath catches in your throat.

Steve Rogers is several yards away, yet it feels as though he’s standing right behind you, hands on your hips and breath on your neck. Of course, the possibility of a romance with Captain America was something you only entertained in your sweetest dreams, but you supposed it was okay to fantasise...

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” you retort, sultrily, “We are only just beginning.”

“You’d better finish up then because we have a job to do...”

You can hear the smile in his tone, a touch of playfulness that seems to soften his scolding.

You shift in the bar stool, the delicate, smooth skin of your leg peeking out from the long slit in your satin, gold dress. You feel dozens of eyes swivel over your body appreciatively, drinking you in like golden champagne. In your previous life, that would have been the effect you were after. But tonight, you’re not here to steal hearts, only biochemical weapons.

“While you guys are having fun flirting and drinking champagne, I’ve actually been working,” Sams voice bites into your ear, his tone mingled amusement and exasperation, “I’ve scouted the area. Our escape route doesn’t seem to be affected by the additional security.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you were in here with me,” Natasha snaps.

“Clint, what’s your status?” Steve asks.

“Im in position, Cap,” Clint answers from a neighbouring rooftop, “Enjoying the view from up here.”

“I’ll need you on the ground with Romanoff,” Steve orders, “I’m moving into position.”

“We’re back on a last name basis?” Natasha says, the hum of her Widows venom buzzing in your ear, “Well that’s cold.”

You take another languid sip of champagne, taking in your surroundings.

Classical music swells from the orchestra, climbing up the wobbly, tumultuous ladder of a chilling crescendo as you watch the wealthy mingle with one another, shrill, careless laughter echoing. There was once a time when you were with them, either running a con or planning a heist. You never imagined that you’d be thrust back into this world again as an Avenger.

“(Y/N)?” Steve asks, his voice softening just slightly.

“I’m in position,” you answer, swirling your flute of champagne elegantly, “Waiting for your signal.”

“Good,” Steve commends, his voice sounding warm and clear, “By the way, gold really is your colour.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you turn, surveying the room. Steve is in the corner, dressed up like a daydream as he stares at you from across the room.

Your gazes clash.

Your heart freezes.

Steve crosses the room, sliding into the vacant stool next to you.

You recover quickly, ironing out your posture as you try to bury your emotions beneath a nonchalant mask.

“That was quick...” you murmur, and Clint snorts.

“Don’t say it—” Sam warns through the comms, but Clint is already speaking.

“—Title of your sex tape.”

A smirk curls around your lips, meeting Steve’s eyes for one charged moment, “Oh Clint, that’s certainly not the title of my sex tape...”

An adorable shade of pink dusts the apples of Steve’s cheeks and he quickly averts his gaze. Tilting your head at Steve, a simpering smile sprawls across your lips.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Cat got your tongue?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Steve glances at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the ends of his mouth. His expression straightens and he looks around, “Seen Dawson anywhere?”

“Nope,” you smirk smugly, “He’s still knocked out in the closet I left him in.”

Steve smiles, regarding you warmly. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you can’t quite place, a sense of longing that makes the base of your spine tingle warmly.

“I got eyes on the weapon.”

Natasha’s voice shatters the moment. Steve shakes his head, drawing himself out of a lingering gaze.

“Excellent. Sam, where are you at with the security situation?”

“Working on it,” Sam grunts, slamming a guard into a wall.

“And I’m with Nat now,” Clint adds, panting slightly.

“You’re getting too old for this game, Barton,” you quip and you hear Clint sigh.

“You bet I am.”

“(Y/N) and I will extract the plans from Dawson’s diary,” Steve mutters into his comm, “We will meet at the rendezvous point.”

“Copy.”

“Copy that, Cap.”

Steve nods purposefully and the two of you glide smoothly off the dance floor, edging toward the closed off hallway inconspicuously.

After swiftly evading the security personnel, you finally arrive at Dawson’s private study. Recalling the blueprint you had stolen earlier, you locate the secret passage and enter through a hidden door, scaling down a spiral staircase until you reach the secret, underground lair.

“Well if this doesn’t scream cliche James-Bond-style villain lair, I don’t know what else does,” you retort, sauntering into the cold, damp lair.

The two of you split off into opposite directions, silently rushing around the room in search of the diary.

Steve dashes forward, moving briskly, until he finds a locked drawer. Using his superhuman strength, he wrenches the door open and steals Dawson’s diary; a heavy tome with a large, metal bracket locking it into place. You and Steve exchange a look.

“Think you can break into it?” Steve asks, raising a questioning brow at you. You grin.

“Finally, I get to do something fun around here,” you quip, a sharp blade of crackling psychic energy shooting out from your palm. You neatly slice through the lock, the jaws unhinging with a click and a hiss, clanging loudly onto the floor.

You gaze at the book, teeth digging into your bottom lip. How many times had you used your gift to steal, and yet now you were using your abilities to save the world? It was a startling realisation that had crossed your mind hundreds of times over the past year or so since you had joined the Avengers as a criminal searching for redemption.

“I never thought...” you whisper under your breath, trailing off into silence.

“Never thought what?” Steve asks from the opposite side of the room and you glance back at him, momentarily forgetting about his superhuman hearing.

“I just...” you begin, unsure of how to phrase the emotions you’ve bottled up inside of you, “...I’m still adjusting to the whole ‘Avengers’ thing...”

Steve pauses, hesitating, gazing at you with so much hidden meaning, you think for a moment that you must have imagined it. Just as you think he’s not going to speak...

“Change always takes some getting used to, trust me, I know,” Steve takes a step toward you, blue eyes genuine and unguarded as they consider you carefully, “But friends always make it easier and - well - you have us...”

You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on a sincere smile, “I’m - well - I’m not here to make friends.”

Steve slides a hand through his hair, “You can’t isolate yourself forever.”

You shrug, eyes not quite meeting his, “Doesn’t have to be forever, just until I’m sure about this...”

Steve frowns, expression rippling, “You’re not sure about us? About...” he trails off, blushing.

“No, not at all! Just, well, sometimes I feel like I’m not...worthy of this...”

Steve crosses the room, resting a warm hand on your shoulder as he ducks his gaze, peering into your eyes with a piercing gaze, “You don’t have to doubt yourself, (Y/N). Just you being here is enough, enough for everyone and enough for me.”

His hand lingers, and there’s so much sincerity in the clear, ceraluen depths of his eyes, you almost believe him. And then his fingers start to trail up your neck, calloused tips dancing across your skin until they tangle around a loose strand of hair and you melt into his touch, embracing it. You’re drawn to him, stepping closer, until you can connect the green flecks in his eyes like constellations, and your eyes flutter closed for a moment, his voice leaking into your mind, into your inner ear, crystal clear and overflowing with hidden yearning.

...Kiss her...

Without really thinking, you step forward, pressing your lips to Steve’s in a gentle kiss. Steve immediately responds, cupping your face with strong hands as he groans against your lips, his tongue gliding across the bottom cushion of your lip. You moan in response, parting your lips, and you taste champagne and mint and a hint of whiskey, and it’s like tasting sunlight in the early mornings, the ones you love the most, and you arch into him, raking your fingers through his hair and tugging him closer, closer, closer.

“Erm...you guys still there?”

Distantly, Sams voice breaks into your consciousness and you groan, reluctantly breaking away from Steve with an irritated sigh.

“We were kind of having a moment here, Wilson,” you snap, and Sams chortles trickle into your ear.

Plucking the comm from your ear, you carelessly toss it onto the desk with a smirk. Steve’s brows nearly graze his hairline, but he copies you anyway, and with a smirk, you step toward him.

“Now, where were we?”

****