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starlightsoulwriting · 2 years

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Ghost-Blood//Revenant: 7

Khonshu, Marc Spector, Steven Grant x Fem!Reader, with a side of Frienemy Harrow

AO3

other chapters

Rating: PG-13/T, for cursing and later violence

Warnings: None

Summary: You fight for your life in a different way than one would think.

Your body isn’t yours. Wasn’t yours. Isn't yours? Now? Not now? Past - were you in the past or now, dreaming or not?

You didn’t know the difference.

Still, your hands were too rough, too covered in bandages and bloody knuckles that couldn’t be hidden underneath your black suit jacket to truly be yours. You stood too tall over the caskets lined up in front of you, too little tears shed from your face.

You, after all, had always been a crier.

Whoever’s body you were looking through was either not prone to tears, or had run out of them.

But you knew this as your - not-you’s - family laying dead in satin lined wood boxes, surrounded by calla lilies and hydrangeas. A sister, and two nephews. Hydrangeas had been her favorite. She’d always wanted to have some in her yard, but every time she tried her black thumb made itself known again.

Your brother-in-law was dead, too, you knew it, at your own hand - the reason for the bruises and aches littering not-you’s body. He didn’t deserve to be buried with his family, after all. No, of course not, after what he did.

The service flashed past in a blur. Literally. Time warped by, slipping past you like trying to hold smoke, until the next scene you found yourself in your body was drinking shtty vodka straight out of a bottle.

“What a waste of perfectly good talent.”

You turned toward the voice, and are greeted by a bird-skull man wrapped in linen.

That voice.

You knew that voice.

It sent you spiraling into another scene altogether.

One inundated with gunfire and the smell of smoke, and a dulled sort of pain - filtered through a haze of time and distance.

But your body was yours. Different than the one you occupied in the good ole year 2022, but yours nonetheless.

Even if you were hiding in an abandoned shed, like a coward. You should be trying to find the other nurses, but the fighting outside was too intense to risk it. And if all of you got hurt, who would be there to patch the troops up after the battle ended?

This is probably why they didn’t put you on Captain America’s unit.

It made you curl your lip over your teeth in disgust, hanging back like this. But your only recourse for helping them had already drifted from your reach when the ambulance truck went up in smoke…

“Well, now this just won't do.”

You fought the urge to shriek in fear as your head whipped to the source of the sound.

Why the sight of a nine foot tall mummy with a bird skull for a head didn’t scare the shit out of you, you weren’t sure.

But you trusted this being implicitly, on sight.

“Well, if I go out there I’m getting shot.” You quirked an eyebrow

“Of course you will. But you won’t get hurt. Much. If you accept my assistance.” He gestured widely with his staff, and finished his sentence with a soft tap to your head, as if he was blessing you with something.

You believed him. For some reason.

“And what’s in it for you?” You put both hands on your hips.

“I am Khonshu.” He opened his arms wide. “God of the Moon, healer of wounds, protector of those who travel by night, and purveyor of justice. ” He brought his hands back in, and leaned in toward you, as if narrowing his eyes in challenge. “And I’m in need of an avatar to realize such ambitions. In return for service I offer vitality, swfteness, and whatever protection I can offer. No mortal weapon will strike you down.”

Something about that speech sounded familiar, but you put that aside and smiled.

“Justice and healing, huh?” You closed your eyes and winced as more gunfire.

When you opened your eyes he was on one knee, his hand hovering near your face hesitantly, before he tapped under your chin in a ‘chin-up’ motion. “Be my Moon Knight. We can save those of your comrades that remain, and patch up the wounded after.”

And what kind of protector would you be to refuse that offer?

You opened your eyes blearily, mind slow like cold honey trying to sink into cotton, unable to tell the difference between the present and the far past of many lifetimes. Thoughts slow-moving… ever… so… slow…

Where was Khonshu…? He’d said he would be there with you in the morning, still, his hand brushing against your cheek as you fell asleep…

“Rest and regain your strength, dove.”

… but that wasn’t quite right, was it? You weren’t in the barracks.

You could barely see. Or, you couldn't process what you were seeing, something disconnected between your eyes and the part of your brain that was supposed to put ideas together into a coherent scene.

White ceiling. Cold room. Medical cot. I.V. line. Dimmed lights. Wet towel on your forehead.

You should know what those things meant when put together, why didn’t you know???

God, and it fucking hurt, the pain slamming into you like a fucking wall, and your eyes shot wide as you bolted upright - only to crash over yourself and almost careen off the bed, movements uncoordinated and clumsy, body refusing to listen to you. Someone in scrubs grabs your arms and lays you back down with a gentle touch, and when you tried to protest all that came out was garbled nothing, mouth full of cotton and clumsy.

“Shh, shh, you’re safe, alright? You’re in an emergency clinic.” He said softly, pulling the blankets back over your shivering form. “Are you in pain?” He asked, and then shook his head with a muttering breath. “What the fuck am I saying, of course she’s in pain, stupid. You put her in a coma because the meds weren’t working and she’s woken the fuck up. Why did she wake up?”

You groaned something resembling and affirmative, catching his attention again.

He held up a sign with a bunch of little smilies on it. But some of them were frowning.

“If zero was in no pain,” he pointed to the smiliest smiley, “And ten was the worst pain you’ve ever felt,” he pointed at the frowniest smiley. “How would you rate your pain?”

You blinked. And then pointed to the right of the frownies face - right where another could go.

He blinked. “An eleven.”

You nodded, but it came out floppy and weird.

It seemed he got the jist, though, because he put something in your IV, and just moments later your eyes felt puffy and heavy.

Just before you drifted to sleep you heard the creak of an opening door, and the soft weight of a cool compress being pressed to your forehead.

A tribunal of avatars.

Osiris’s eyes staring at you sadly. Almost something like regret in his eyes. “This is your last chance to change your mind.”

Your firm, naive belief that this was the right decision.

A knife in your back as he wrended your soul from your body, and let your immortal godly form fall to the ground.

The agony that follows is incomparable.

Your eyes open again with a gasp, hands scrambling around you to shove away what's coming for you, hurting you hurting you hurting you, but all you find are gentle hands and soft voices and a cold towel pressed against your face.

“I know. I know, Iris.” Blue eyes and shoulder length hair you barely notice, the world around you fuzzy around the edges and mind frayed beyond recognition. One hand grasps yours tightly. “The doctors are working on the pain, I promise. But for now, you have to breathe through it.”

There’s a flurry of movement behind him but you pay it no mind.

The man beside you breathes in, but you're in too much pain to follow him - your movement is sharp and jerky, even the barest inhale burning your lungs.

“Perfect. Just like that. Now breathe out slowly.”

It doesn’t even sound condescending, no, it’s an anchor. One you hold onto as you continue the slow, stilted cycle of breathing in and out.

“You’re doing so well.” His thumb rubs the back of your knuckles even though you’re squeezing his hand as tight as you could. He doesn’t even seem fazed by the pain of it. “The pain will be over soon, don’t worry. You’ll be able to rest.”

The darkness encroaches again.

“One way or another, it seems.”

A/N: I don't even know just take it i love Harrow okay don't even look at me. I think he would be exceptionally sweet and kind in most situations, especially when he feels like he needs to make up for something. Man is all about penance after all. He has to have charisma how the hell else did he get a cult so large? I've written metas about this in the comments i wont repeat myself. But also Khonshu! Hi bestie <3

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #khonshu x reader #x reader #fanfiction #my writing #reader insert #ghost-blood

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frodo-with-glasses · 2 years

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Via @o-lei-o-lai-o-lord on this post:

You people are the sweetest ;u;

Essay below the cut because it got way too hecking long:

It’s such a sad thing to me that “non-ironic nostalgic fondness” is so rare these days, like you said. Everybody jumps on the “new big thing” because it’s new and big and popular. Everybody is so eager to tear the “new big thing” to shreds because it’s new and big and popular. Everybody drops it like a hot rock the minute it stops being new and big and popular and starts being “outdated” and “cringe”.

Personally, I’m of the opinion that liking things ironically because you’re afraid of being “cringe” is, in itself, cringe. If I love something, I go full hog. It becomes a part of my life, a piece of who I am, a facet on the kaleidoscope of how I view the world. If I don’t like something, I just ignore it. I don’t like things just because they’re new or popular or trendy. I like them because they speak to me, personally, and no one can take that away from me.

I’ll gladly list off all the fandoms I’ve been in over the years, and the memories—both good and bad—that I have of each. The difference with Lord of the Rings is that every time I go back, it’s exactly the same as when I left it. It’s not new, evolving material. It’s not the work of multiple people meeting word count quotas in a writers’ room. It’s the work of one unmitigated genius, and it’s been here for nearly a century, remaining just the same as it’s always been—staid, unchanging, immutable.

What good is loving something if you don’t do it with complete sincerity? If you’re in love with someone, you don’t say “oh lol I only like them for the memes” or “oh lol I only like them because they’re popular”. If you can say that about your significant other, that’s not true love; that’s manipulation. So why do we treat stories the same way? Why is it “cool” to be cynical, sarcastic, ironic, and deconstructive?

The worst thing is that this attitude—this destructive way of interacting with stories—has now infected the creation of those stories as well. You can argue chicken or the egg all day long—and to be honest, I think the two attitudes probably feed on each other—but the fact remains that storytelling (that beautiful art form that’s existed since the dawn of humanity) has itself been poisoned by cynicism in most forms of media today.

Someone said once that the magic of the Peter Jackson LotR films is that they embraced the source material with complete sincerity. There’s no fourth-wall breaks, no snarky gags, nothing that deliberately mocks Tolkien or his work or breaks your immersion in the story. Imagine that level of love for the craft in something that came out this year! Before this re-read, I was deep in the MCU fandom—was, mind you—and I watched Endgame crap all over Thor: Ragnarok, the first Captain America movie, and even the first Avengers movie, without which it wouldn’t even exist. There isn’t even a sense of love and camaraderie between installments in the same franchise. Imagine if Frodo and Sam in Return of the King mocked and berated who they were back in Fellowship. That’s absurd! And yet, modern storytelling does exactly that all the time.

I think both of these attitudes stem from a desire to preemptively shut down any potential embarrassment that may happen later on. People are so obsessed with what others think about them that they want to shoot down any negative reception before it even starts. “You can’t mock my story if I mock it first!” or “You can’t make fun of me for liking a thing if I just like it ironically!” People want to feel smart, and superior, and clever, because they’re afraid of feeling stupid, inferior, and embarrassed.

But here’s the thing, as Tolkien’s best frienemy forever so aptly put it: “To love is to be vulnerable.” To love is to open yourself to embarrassment, to confused glances, to people “not getting it” or “thinking it’s silly” or “thinking you’re weird”.

And here’s the amazing thing: That’s okay! My mom taught me, ever since I was a little kid, that when someone calls me “weird”, I should just flash a big smile and say “THANKS!” It throws them right off-balance, and I can go on with my day. Now that I’m older—after having grown up Christian, home-schooled, mixed race, on a strict diet due to health reasons, and possibly on the spectrum—I realize now more than ever the wisdom she had back then. Because when you’re confident in yourself, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. If you truly love something or someone, the joy you get from that love is so potent that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Someone called you weird and cringe? Don’t care! It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks! And few ideas in my life have been as liberating as that.

So I’ll keep drawing my silly little doodles of hobbits, and I’ll keep loving things with my whole heart, for no other reason than because it makes me happy—and as long as you all want to join me, you are more than welcome to come along for the ride.

#sweet people saying sweet things #my writing #in which i wax eloquent about the value of sincerity and ultimate irrelevance of ‘cringe’#i have a lot of thoughts about storytelling and the culture around it #being a writer myself will do that to ya lol #anyway thank you again; y'all are so sweet i swear ;u;

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ao3feed-sambucky · 2 years

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oh shit (are we in love?)

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/41107698

by winterkillz

With the rise of New Hydra, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes find themselves in a new dilemma which includes a child and confusing feelings.

Words: 8271, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Sharon Carter (Marvel), Hydra Agents, Other Marvel Characters

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sharon Carter & Sam Wilson

Additional Tags: Post-The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Canon Divergence - Post-The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Mission Fic, Rescue Missions, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Denial of Feelings, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Captain America Sam Wilson, SHIELD Agent Sharon Carter (Marvel), Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Post-The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky are stupid, But they are free, Partners to Lovers, Co-workers to lovers, Friends to Lovers, More like annoyances to lovers, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra is Reborn, Frienemies Bucky & Sharon, Original Character(s), Religious Cults, Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Action & Romance

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/41107698

#Bucky #Captain America #Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #James Barnes #Falcon #SamBucky #BuckySam #IFTTT

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naferty · 5 years

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Window to the Soul

part 2

(stony, soulmates, avengers academy, angst/no comfort, not yet at least, Steve’s turn)

~~~

It becomes the talk of the Academy. Steve Roger’s lost soulmate. Captain America’s missing love. The tale of lost at first sight. The one that got away. Prince Charming and Cinderella, except replace the shoe with a soul eye, and replace midnight with… Rogers not wanting a specific person to be his soulmate.

Just his luck he ended up with that exact person as his soulmate.

Not that Tony will tell the supersoldier the truth any time soon. In fact, he doesn’t ever plan on telling him. He remains tight-lipped and casual each time the subject of Rogers’ lost soulmate comes up. Because of his brown eyes, he becomes one of many targets to investigate in the Academy, but his contact does a spectacular job of hiding his left eye’s new coloring.

He acts shocked when they explain the situation. Pretends the idea of losing your soulmate right after finally seeing them is unimaginable. He fakes his curiosity about who the person could possibly be when the gossip picks around the campus. He avoids heroes and villains as they foam at the mouth from wanting to know who could be Captain America’s other half.

He does everything possible to avoid any suspicion. Makes sure to act the part of a good samaritan wishing Rogers all the luck in finding his other half. Pretends to be someone who is very much not Rogers’ soulmate or the person everyone is looking for.

It’s almost ridiculous how easy it is to pull off.

In one week no one comes close to finding the truth. In two weeks no one spares him a glance anymore. In four weeks no one brings up the subject around him, and in a shocking twist, he and Rogers become a sort of friends. Rivals for sure. Frienemies perhaps. Friends? Highly unlikely and probably just Tony projecting, but it’s something close. Something he really wants.

If he can’t have a soulmate, then maybe perhaps a friend? Fate can give him that at least, right? He’s not asking for much. Just a friend.

By three months everyone, including Rogers, who becomes Steve, eventually give up on this mysterious ‘Soulderella.’

Tony would feel sorry for his soulmate, but - you know - he’s more or less going through the same pain, too. The only difference? He knows the truth, and he’s accepted he’s not wanted. Why put Steve through the whole process of disappointment at discovering who his soulmate is, the displeasure of telling him he’s unwanted and the hassle of breaking a relationship off that hasn’t been given the chance to even start?

It’s better this way. Fewer people to upset and fewer people he has let down and one less friend to lose.

He does plenty of that on his own. No need to get fate to do his dirty work.

Tony trudges on every day. One step at a time. Foot in front of the other. He wakes up, pretties himself for the public, checks his schedule and always makes sure his contact is in place. Then he runs out of his tower and starts his day. Classes, fighting, more classes, studying, joking and so-not-flirting with classmates and certainly not with Steve, one final class and back to the tower. It becomes clockwork overtime.

It’s during one of these clockwork days that Steve corners him with the subject he most wants to avoid. It’s unexpected and Tony is unprepared. By now the mystery of the lost soulmate has died down and Steve’s flame of hope for finding them has long been extinguished. Tony is very much caught off-guard.

“Do you ever think about what your soulmate will do when you finally find each other? Or what they’ll think of you?”

The question comes out of nowhere and the serious face that accompanies the serious tone is one Tony never expected from Steve while in his company. Steve hardly talks about important things to him, especially those that involve personal matters to the supersoldier. Tony is not ‘committed’ enough for those kinds of talks.

“Not really, no.” He no longer has to. He knows what his soulmate would do. He knows what his soulmate thinks of him. “Is this about what happened to yours?”

Steve looks at him. His one blue eye shining and his one brown eye, Tony’s own brown eye, taunting him. “A little. Yeah.”

“Did you ever find out who it is?”

Steve looks away. “No.”

“Do you still want to? I mean, by this point,” he trails off. He might not be considered a person to be taken seriously, but he also isn’t heartless.

“I don’t know. They’re my soulmate. I’m supposed to. The stories always say what an incredible thing it is. All that love for each other.” Steve says and Tony doesn’t expect that. He thought for sure Steve would rebuff the question. Change the subject. Anything to stop him from giving an answer. Yet here he is, pouring his heart out. “It’s been months now with no luck. The public knows about it by this point and still nothing. I don’t think this is ‘not being able to find them’ and more ‘they don’t want to be found.’ What does that say about them? About me?”

Tony looks away, finding his tower at the distance an interesting focal point. In all his hiding the truth and avoiding his soulmate he never stopped to think of what that would entail on Steve’s side. A soulmate who ran and refused to be found? Hiding from Steve? Clearly, the soulmate doesn’t want him. Would rather abandon fate then fall in love.

It’s all for Steve’s good. Tony would rather Steve think he’d been abandoned instead of finding out the truth and be put with someone who he wouldn’t be able to go a single day without wondering if they’re being unfaithful.

It’s better this way, he convinces himself. A little heartbreak is nothing compared to disappointment and constant ‘what ifs.’

“You’re a hero, Steve. A good person. If your soulmate can’t see that then they don’t deserve you.”

Steve’s left brown eye mocks him. Tony’s own soul mocks him. What a joke he is.

“Yeah,” Steve eventually ends with, not really convinced. That’s okay. Over time he’ll fool himself into believing it. He just needs more time. Time Tony will make sure to give him.

This conversation will ultimately come back to haunt him long after they left the Academy. The image of him taking off his contact after the end of a fight and him turning just enough for a camera to catch sight of his left blue eye is broadcast for all the city, the state and the country to see. Photos are spread. Articles are published. Talk shows are aired.

Who is Tony Stark’s soulmate?

Steve’s cold and stilled expression is an image that Tony will never forget for the rest of his short-lived life.

#text post #long text post #naferty writes #stony #stevetony #avac #soulmates #window to the soul au #steve is ready to cry at all the unnecessary pain

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shieldcodex · 4 years

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Codex ‘Verse Masterpost (completed/updated, plus additional non-arc fics 2016-2018)

The ‘Verse series is a completed second set of stories based around the theme of rebuilding a family. Still lightly AU, canon-flavor. Like its forerunner, it also predicts or predates a lot of current MCU and will absolutely contain spoilers. There are characters from the comics that are introduced MCU-style and do not require comic knowledge to understand. The ‘Verse fics are written to not contradict the Postscript of the original Codex and continue the story after When the Man Comes Around, because these bastards wouldn’t stop talking to me.

The ‘Verse:

The Lion in Spring

Synopsis:

Recent events have left each Agent of SHIELD in emotional disarray, and Daisy Johnson most of all. So when Coulson asks Loki to reach out and help her, he accepts... but in his own way. A storyteller first and foremost, Loki reveals a story of old Asgard - the embattled start of love between Odin and Frigga.

Notes: Will spoil the end of Season 3 AoS. Is 90% a flashback tale.

Season of the Witch

Synopsis:

When horror engulfs a small Pennsylvanian town at the edge of abandoned Centralia, the Agents of SHIELD are called to investigate. But when their strangest ally and agent, Loki, fast realizes he knows more about what's going on than he ever wanted to admit, the investigation takes a dark turn into understanding not only the history of the cursed region, but the birth of Chaos itself.

Notes: This is the Oct 2016 Codex Halloween fic, but also ended up paralleling AoS’s season 4 events in very strong and strange ways. Bookends with the original Codex fic, A Clear and Present Loki. Aggie Harkness becomes a recurring character and member of WAND, a magical division of SHIELD currently run by Loki.

Generation of Animals

Synopsis:

A phone call from an unexpected source puts Phil Coulson (along with his unlikeliest friend) on the hunt for a resurrected ghost straight out of the worst nightmares of world history - and on the way, Coulson must remember how to uphold the beliefs of his greatest hero, the currently exiled Captain America.

By punching Nazis.

Lots of Nazis.

Really hard.

Notes: I didn’t handle the 2016 US election very well, and honestly, come 2020, CAN YOU BLAME ME. This was one method of coping. Fortunately, it’s also a pretty rollickin’ story where Loki beats on an awful lot of awful people. The theme of making peace with himself and his place in Asgard and Jotunheim continues on from this story.

Riders on the Storm

Synopsis:

Loki and Doctor Strange are forced to work together to hunt what they discover is a cannibal - and maybe a killer. To pass the time, they share a couple of similarly horrible stories from their pasts, from a bleak ER encounter to Loki's first real battle with the demons and the flames of Muspelheim.

Notes: 2017′s Halloween fic is a longer work that contains substories, similar to We Lived in Castles. Strange and Loki’s aggressive frienemy-ship continues to build.

The Liminoid Space has a Self-Checkout Lane

Synopsis:

Loki's having a day. The sort of day that makes him long for an era where sacrifices to the Gods were still a thing. Instead, he's in a big box store buying cheap shirts and animal crackers and crappy coffee, and he's none too happy about it.

Notes: Like some vignettes in the original arc, this one doesn’t connect to anything. It does have a nice but short flashback to Loki being a dumb kid too smart for his own good.

An Ocean Deep and Cold

Synopsis:

Having uncovered the trail of even more buried family secrets, Thor turns to his brother to help him puzzle out what he believes may be a secret of his own lineage - but Loki's weariness with Odin's faults means he is at first unwilling to help.

When he does give in, the brothers together must face what the Realms have to offer them for all-new struggles, from Earth's intrigue to Alfheim's bureaucracy... and they must also share the weight of their own fraught relationship.

Notes: The finale of the shorter ‘Verse arc, Loki finds himself finally making a kind of real and lasting peace not only with his brother, and with Odin’s bizarre way of parenting, but also with his heritage. Farbauti has a strong role here that will come back up in the next arc, and this fic lays out where Hela is in the Codex continuity.

Additional Works:

All Our Dawns

Synopsis:

Young Thor has a problem, a suddenly sickly and withdrawn Loki who won't confide what's troubling him. With nothing else to do but turn to their mother for help, it's up to Frigga to find a way to help Loki walk out of the dark - not only for the sake of his childhood, but his future.

Notes: This short predates Generation of Animals and was part of the same coping mechanism - looking for hope in darker times.

Run, Black Rabbit

Synopsis:

A quiet tribute from a trickster to a storyteller.

Notes: A very short fic written on the day I learned author Richard Adams died. Watership Down has an important but understated role in some of the Codex stories, as Loki gradually recognizes both the fragility and strength of littler creatures - and also his own parallels with El-ahrairah, the Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Black Spot on the Sun

Synopsis:

When Thor and Loki are sent ahead of a war party to warn a village of a coming attack, the young princes discover they're too late and need a new plan. Loki's wits and Thor's steel have to find a way to defend the people long enough for them to survive - but is Loki's solution Asgard's way?

Notes: Another short fic and something of a trial run for the next one. Written in bursts over the course of a long and difficult month, I was proud to be able to finish it on the day the first Thor: Ragnarok trailer dropped.

Let Me Tell You About the Time I...

Synopsis:

Loki has been here before.

Enough that not only does he have opinions on what he's going through, but plans.

Notes: A non-canon and non-Codex musing on what might’ve gone through Loki’s mind after the start of Infinity War.

#shield codex #shield 'verse #genfic #loki fic #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #agents of shield fanfiction #khamanv

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winterironwonderland · 5 years

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So there’s this trend in Winteriron....

...where Bucky Barnes is the only one capable of standing up to Steve, and everyone else on “Team Cap” basically has the “anti-Stark” crowd’s BS projected onto them, making Nat, Scott, Cilnt, Sam, and especially Wanda into an army of anti-Tony Orcs.

Here’s the thing though....

Natasha caring about Tony.

“Textbook narcissism” is Snark (Tony’s first language) for “Imma guilt trip you into joining Mr. Fury’s Avengers program.”

Wanda owning up.

Was not going to argue staying in the mansion until Hawkeye “rescued” her.

(Funny how when Tony recruits a teen it’s kidnapping and endangerment, but when Hawkeye recruits a teen who is already lucky not to be on death row or murdered by a mob, and takes no measures with her safety like Tony did for Peter, it’s “rescuing.” But I digress.)

By the way, both those moments occur in “Captain America: Civil Fart,” the movie where damn near EVERYONE was OOC asshats for 90% of the film...

Scott Lang regrets his role in “Civil War,” and Hank “Never Trust A Stark” Pym and his daughter Hope Are Quite Pissed At Scott For It

There is literally no reason not to frienemy ship all three with Tony.

Also, Scott is one of the only people in CACW whose dumb actions still fit his character and situation. Scott hasn’t been watching all the “Avengers” movies like we have. He just knows that Captain America is a “hero” who has been “outside the law” before, saved the day and been forgiven for it. How was Scott to know this was the one movie where the Avengers *wouldn’t* be legally off the hook and living happily ever after by the end?

Sam paused in the middle of a fight to apologize for Rhodey’s injury that wasn’t even remotely his (Sam’s) fault, and alter was still remorseful about it.

Admittedly, was otherwise an OOC prick in this movie, but.... I’m just saying, he *is* capable of breaking away from Steve’s agenda to follow his own morals.

Clint........................um..................

..........manipulated the legally-and-mentally-hella-vulnerable young person who trusted him as her mentor into doing something insanely illegal and landing her in a straight jacket, and instead of apologizing to her taunted Tony about Rhodey’s broken back, oh and ditched his wife and kids to break the law with the Cap over something he had very little information on in a stupidly short amount of time.....

....but he’s nothing like that in any other movie. So.....

.............PTSD from Loki’s mind control mixing badly with talks about government wanting to *control* the Avengers more...............maybe? Otherwise, maybe Zemo replaced his meds with Tick-Tacs or spiked his coffee with some evil drug or something?

IDK, I’ll be honest; Clint, like Steve, could be either a sympathetic guy with PTSD sending him down a horrible path, or just a self-righteous jackass who’s had it too good for too long. I honestly don’t care, they’re so inconsistent onscreen that it could easily go either way.

And now, an uncomfortable truth...

Look, I love Bucky. I adore Bucky.

But there’s a reason we love writing and reading about Bucky gaining autonomy in fanfiction; because he lacks it onscreen (so far). Ever since Steve became “Captain America,” Bucky has never once stood up to him. Not before becoming the Winter Soldier, and not after.

There’s a reason we love writing and reading and drawing fan art about Bucky angsting over the Stark’s murders; because his remorse for it onscreen was disturbingly short-lived.

Basically, of all people on “Team Cap,” Bucky is sadly one of the ones most dependent on Steve. (With understandable reasons, given his situation.)

Obviously, I’m hoping to god this changes in the next movie, and Bucky is able to form relationships with people other than Steve, and express more on-screen remorse over what Hydra made him do.

But the point is

it just doens’t make sense to me, how so many Winteriron fics have Bucky able to stand up to Steve almost immediately after Siberia, while painting everyone else as Cap’s loyal Tony-hating minions.

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blindsasukes · 5 years

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My Wishlist For Falcon & Winter Soldier

John Walker as the new government-appointed Cap, against Steve’s wishes. Sam’s character arc follows his initial hesitance at taking up the shield eventually being cancelled out by his sense of duty and intolerance for injustice.

if the plot leak from reddit is true, I don’t want them to portray the new Cap as a “radical” (leftist) who has to be put down for the sake of order. Make him evil or make him right.

following the assumption that the plot leak is accurate: Sam and Bucky are coerced or forced into government hero work. The last time they were alive, they were both international fugitives, and I’m a whore for angst and conflict so I don’t want them magically pardoned. I want them basically on probation, given the choice between (government supervised) hero work (as in, in accordance with the Sokovia accords) or prison.

Same for Sharon. Sharon last appeared in Civil War where she aided Steve, Sam, and Bucky in escaping, provided them with weapons and intel, and presumably kept their whereabouts and plans hidden. She should be in deep trouble, too, and maybe assigned to keep an eye on Sam and Bucky the way she was assigned to keep an eye on Steve in The Winter Soldier.

Basically I just want a lot of good ole heavy political themes and evil government bullshit because IT’S CAPTAIN AMERICA CAN WE GO BACK TO THAT AGENDA

a sympathetic, emotional POV for Bucky FINALLY GOD PLEASE

more Winter Soldier flashbacks

RILEY’S DEATH.

Riley in general, give us flashbacks of Sam interacting with Riley

please Marvel PLEASE remember that Sam has COUNSELING EXPERIENCE with VETERANS WITH PTSD SPECIFICALLY

Sam’s family!!! Sam’s background!!! Can we see kid!Sam!!!

Bucky doing normal ass boring things

Bucky’s character arc being that the government is using him as a weapon just like HYDRA did. Bucky has difficulty coming to terms with this. Like Natasha, he wants to believe he’s on the “good” side now, even if the “good” side is only interested in taking advantage of skills and experience he never wanted.

Bucky learns ONSCREEN about autonomy, self care, and self forgiveness.

Sam helps Bucky with concepts and activities that are still difficult for him to grasp because of his PTSD.

Bucky helps Sam come to terms with the fact that the shield belongs to him, that Steve made the right call, that Bucky knows Sam is the one for the job because he’s already helped so many people, he’s already helped Bucky.

Sam and Bucky continue to bicker and play frienemies, though there’s ofc no real meanness behind it. They don’t understand why everyone’s so confused about the nature of their relationship. They WILL fight anyone who talks shit about the other one.

No old man Steve

I have more but they’re too ambitious and I don’t actually think we’ll get them So guess I’m done for now

#mcu #falcon & winter soldier #falcon and winter soldier #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sharon carter #fws #sambucky

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tarithenurse · 5 years

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Afterparty

Pairing: Steven Rogers x fem!reader (1st PoV) Wordcount: 3510 Contents: Looooooots of smut. Pretty much only that. A bit of fluff too at the end. Some pining first. But mainly smut: unprotected sex (don’t play like that in real life, please), fingering (fem receiving), oral (male receiving), details.

For ages, or so it feels like, I’ve been pining so hard for Steve. Each time I’ve been tempted to make a move, I’ve managed to stop myself by reminding me how bad an idea it would be to mess up a perfectly good friendship and potentially unbalance the dynamics in the group. The problem is: he’s just about as wonderful as it gets and being stuck in the alleged “friendzone” takes a lot of energy. Each time he smiles or talks, I get fuzzy, which is one of the major reasons I always try to stay clear of any situation that might involve both him and alcohol.

Until now.

It’s been a long night after the dinner, and somehow it has included drinks. Lots of drinks. Which let to a night out on town with Steve, Bucky and Sam. The guys always take pride in taking care of us girls, and with Wanda insisting on staying home…well there’s only one girl left on the West Coast team to somehow keep the three guys in check.

Bucky and Sam are the best type of frienemies, pulling pranks on each other and being sassy as fuck even if they wouldn’t hesitate a second to help if the other is in trouble. Just like they would for Steve. Being one of the girls, I’ve learned to deal with it and can give as good as I get, so sometimes the two team up on me. They do that to anyone, really.

This night had been no different, except at some point Steve must have thought they’d gotten out of line and tried to “defend” me, resulting in a lot K-I-S-S-I-N-G-chanting and other childish things that (according to them) were a way of getting us to finally discover each other. That had been awkward, for me at least when I saw how indignantly Steve tried to refuse any grounds for the banter. Maybe it was to distract Buck and Sam, maybe it was to avoid seeing how foreign the idea of hooking up with me was for Steve, but I’d challenged them to a drinking game.

Yeah…not my best idea.

I’m not used to drinking. Not at all. That’s why I’m more than happy to just lean against the nearest shoulder now we’re on the way home in cab. Even if that shoulder belongs to Steve who’s got an arm protectively around me, holding me up each time I doze off.

“We’re there.” Steve’s voice is gentle and so close to my ear that I half expect to feel his lips.

He helps me out of the car, ignoring Bucky’s and Sam’s nudges and winks, and half carries me, half walks me through the door and into the elevator.

“Gods, it’s been ages since I’ve gotten this hammered.” I groan, already dreading what’s to come unless I do something about it.

The elevator is humming gently, trying to lull me to sleep, and I use my magic to purge some of the alcohol in my system. It’s not my specialty, but it’s enough to clear my head a bit. However, it also means getting back to the stage of drunkenness that I want to avoid when near Steve. Flirty. Horny. The way he’s holding me is pressing me close to him and the ropey muscles of his lower arm are soooo close to my breasts, making me think everything that I’m not supposed to think of.

When the door opens with a soft pling to the guys’ floor, he doesn’t let go as I had expected. “You guys go ahead, I’ll just make sure she makes it all the way to her room.”

I swear, I can see him blush faintly in the polished metal walls of the elevator, but for once neither Buck nor Sam say anything except goodnight. Then the door closes after them. Now comes the real test: trying to behave.

“I’m okay. Got a bit of it out.” I hiccup.

Steve doesn’t seem to believe me. “Sure. But a bit’s not enough.”

“I just need a shower and then sleep.”

The door opens with another pling, and he testingly allows me to walk on my own. I admit, I’m not walking completely straight even if I’m trying my best, so perhaps it’s understandable when he picks me up and carries me the rest of the way. On other occasions, I’d hate that sort of help…but considering how close it’s gotten me to Steve, I’m probably not going to learn from this experience.

Pushing the door open, he puts me down in the middle of the room where I kick off my heels straight away. The faint click behind me proves that the door has closed on its own.

“I’ll start the water for you. You’ll shower and then straight to bed.”

Not the fun kind of orders…unless he’ll join me. “Yes, sir.”

I’m trying desperately to reach the zipper down the length of the back of my dress. How did I ever manage to get this on? It’s a nice dress and I know I look amazing in it, but right now it’s constricting.

“Trouble, doll?” He pauses on the way to the bathroom.

Looking up, I can see the smirk that makes the corner of his mouth twitch playfully. Oh boy, I’m never going to hear the end of this. “I…I can’t reach the zipper.”

“Here. Let me.”

Slowly turning me around so he’s standing behind me, Steve’s fingers find the zipper and pull it open in a smooth movement all the way down to the hem, revealing a few inches of the dark blue bra and undies.

“I should…hang that up.” I hear myself say as I slip it off my shoulders even though he‘s standing right there.

There’s a slight sputter behind me and when I turn, I can see that he’s squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Friend-zoned so much he can’t even stand to see me in what corresponds to a bikini. Always the perfect gentleman, the Captain America. Well in that case, who cares about the rest then? I make quick work at the bra-clasp before slipping both that and the panties off and tossing both things aside.

He’s still blushing. “Just ermm…which way’s the door?”

“Not even gonna say goodnight?” The pout turns into a devious idea and the idea turns into a purring voice. “No goodnight kiss or lullaby?” I swear, I hear Steve’s heartrate double.

Licking his lips quickly, he finds an answer. “You don’t wanna hear me sing, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart, that’s a first. Stepping right in front of him, he’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from the Dorito-shaped body. “Well, just goodnight, then.”

I need to stand on tiptoes to reach his cheek, placing a soft kiss there that makes him hold his breath. Another one’s planted on the opposite cheek, and this time Steve turns his face towards me, trying to find my mouth with his own lips. It’s gentle, safe enough that not even my granny would have complained, and a far cry from what I really want. Reaching up, my fingers trace through the short hairs on the back of his head, pulling him a bit closer to me before I abandon his lips in favour of his jaw which I trace until I reach the tender spot on his neck. Just under the ear. Apparently, that’s the on-button, because he finally makes use of his own hands, one slipping around my waist, the other placing my left hand on his hip.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He sounds out of breath, but hopeful.

“Oh yeah...” I have to stop to scan his close-eyed face in an effort to gage his feelings. “Do you want me to stop?”

I’m already pulling away, but he reels me back in. “I’ve been waiting for this for so…so long.” His normally strong hands are gentle now as they slide up my arms. “I want you. Need you,” breathing in with his nose buried in my hair, he sighs, “but I can’t risk taking advantage of you.”

Thwomp-thwomp, goes my heart, loud enough to fill my ears and strong enough to burst through my chest. Thwomp-thwomp, blending with his words in my mind as I concentrate on my magic. It burns through my veins as the alcohol’s purged, but it’s a sweet fire that edges on a deep, smouldering hunger in the pit of my abdomen. I already knew what I was doing…there was no chance I’d regret or forget my actions unless it had been to let Steve walk out the door without knowing just how badly I crave him. Love him.

Trailing my fingertips across his broad shoulders until they reach his collar, I let them rest at the first button. “Still not changing my mind, babe.” I whisper, looking at him through the darkened lashes.

All this time, his eyes have been closed. Now he opens then, rooting me on the spot with piercing ice that takes in every last detail: my messy hair, slightly smudged makeup, the flush undertone to my skin as his gaze travels down my bared form. Never has a man made me feel so naked while undressed. Steve doesn’t just see my body, he sees more…and he likes what he sees. I know because of the twinkle in his eyes and his gaping mouth as he breathes out one word.

“Impeccable.”

Heat begins to grow as a knot deep down in my stomach. Any answer I might have formulated is prevented from being spoken as our mouths crash together. Soft at first, but nearly two years of pining transform the tenderness into greedy, sloppy kisses and little bites while we each fight for the upper hand.

And speaking of hands: altering between firm grasps and soft strokes, the Captain explores every inch of my skin, causing my nipples to harden as he pinches them in passing before steering me by my hips to straddle his thigh. The first moan escapes him as he feels the dampness between my legs soak into the jeans when he begins to rock me gently.

The pooling heat grows, like a soap bubble it promises mesmerizing beauty before it eventually will burst. But before then…frantically, I manage to unbutton his shirt before he can pull it off the rest of the way himself, leaving me free to tug at the belt and lift the white tank he wears underneath. Gods almighty. Those abs are perfect against my palm, the same with the pecs as I reach further before reverting and dragging my dark-red nails across his skin. His intake of breath is sharp, probably a result of the surprise rather than the faint blushing trails.

Two seconds later he’s got my wrists stuck in an iron grip against my abdomen, and my back is pressed against his muscular form. It went so fast I didn’t have a chance to avoid it, but now that I’m there, feeling his erection press against my ass, I’m not sure I want to object anyways.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” Steve growl, his lips ghosting the tender spot between shoulder and neck, “or you won’t get to touch at all.”

Tilting the hips, I grind torturously slow against the throbbing arousal, eliciting a guttural moan from the man. Still, he doesn’t let go of the wrists, using only one hand to reach towards my crotch. Fingers brush lightly against the short curls then skip to the sensitive skin on the inner thigh. Each feathery touch sets off goosebumps, because my body needs more than he’s giving me, wants more than the teasing. When a single finger finally does trace the crevice between my folds, starting at the point where my legs meet with the crotch and stroking towards the clit languidly, I’m the one to whimper. I can feel Steve smile against the skin of my neck.

“You like that?” Two fingers part the folds, granting access to the slippery wetness in between. There’s no way I can talk, so I just nod. “Good.”

Finally, he lets go, dividing the focus between the long, waving strokes of my pussy and my breasts, the flat expanse of the stomach, gripping tightly onto the hips. And still, after each adventure his hands and fingers return to the sensitive bundle of nerves and the slick folds, building up a pressing longing for more. Who’d have thought the man was “super” at more things than fighting and being kindness incarnated. Reaching back up, I can grab his short hair, carting the fingers through in a futile attempt at guiding his mouth to the right spots. The other latches on to his hip or thigh, depending on how weak in the knees Steve makes me.

A finger slips effortlessly inside, pressing against the wall as the man in charge tests the wetness there. The tightness. Rolling my hips in response pulls a guttural moan from my throat as I feel the invasion deepen and swipe over the perfect spot.

Then the fingers retract, accompanied by a low chuckle. “Not so fast, doll.”

Is it mutiny to disagree? Abandoning the hold on him and trailing the fingertips against the waistband of his trousers, I soon feel the partially unbuckled belt and free him from the restraining leather which I hang over my shoulders. Just in case. A button. A zipper. Both strained from the added pressure of his swell behind them. Stepping back, I get to my knees on the floor from where I can look up at the gorgeous man through my lashes. It almost steals my breath away to notice the brows arched in curiosity as my fingers curl around the offensively covering layers of fabric and begin to pull down. I’m smart enough to lean back on my heels the moment his cock springs free, otherwise it’d have slapped me in the face. Swaffeled, they call it in the Netherlands.

Greedy palms follow the clothes down the thigs before I let them fall around his ankles. It’s impossible not to be somewhat nervously eager to hold the throbbing member, feel the softness of the skin in my palm, and trace the vein underneath it with my tongue. But I place chaste kisses along his hipbone instead, leading closer and closer while I hear his breathing hitch each time lips make contact with the intimate area. And my hands? They are exploring the tension in the muscles of those strong, perfectly shaped legs and ass. I mean honestly, I could bounce a quarter off that touche and it’d shoot straight to Mars!

It amplifies the difference as my fingers nestle at the root of his erection, cupping his sac in my palm. Even as it tightens upwards, the thin skin under the sparing, golden downs is like silk that smooths and wrinkles under the swipe of a thumb.

The sound escaping Steve is otherworldly as my tongue circles the crown of his manhood, lavishly wetting the angrily blushing head before taking it between my lips. Already, there’s a twang of saltiness and it’s egging me on. Pulling back and swirling the tongue around him in tight spirals and then letting go with a soft “pop”, it’s easy to feel the throbbing and twitching accompanied by the sweetest music in the form of drawn-out moans from the Captain. Captain, hah! I feel in control and I love it. A broad stroke running the length of his shaft to the balls has him groaning and I can see his hands flail helplessly through the air, clenching and loosening as he wants to take hold of something. Anything. But all he finds is my hair and although he’s digging his fingers into it, he does so as gently as possible, knowing how strong he is compared to me.

Kissing the tip, tasting the precum, the lips round firm and gentle around his member once more before hollowing my cheeks and taking him in as far as I can. It’s not enough and I have to wrap my hand around the root of the shaft to extend the sensation, the pressure and vacuum constantly altering as I slowly bob my head back and forth. Tongue swirls and strokes hungrily, cajoling delicious sounds from the man who’s always in control.

“Oh…oooh…like that...” His voice’s raw with lust, hoarse from his self-restraint.

That easy? Letting go with a last, lingering lick, I look up at him through my lashes, a devilish smirk betraying how much I enjoy the effect I have on Steve. Just for good measure, though, he gets a few pumps to string him along a few seconds more. Getting to my feet is done in a leisurely pace, my body flush to his statuesque build that’s damp with ill-contained vigour, obvious as well by the rapid breathing and thundering heartbeat I can feel as my hands slip up his chest followed by kisses and love bites.

The moment my arms wrap around his trembling form, he’s hands are everywhere. Stroking, massaging, squeezing. Latching my teeth onto his earlobe, I drag a hiss from him, though clearly of pleasure as his cock twitches against my abdomen.

“Yeah…just like that?” The whisper’s hot against his throat. “Are you gonna ask nicely?”

Steve pulls back abruptly to take in the sight before him, baffled at the boldness of my statement. He’s not a stranger to politeness or polite requests, but this time a darkness fills his eyes, and a hungry smile rivals mine.

“No.” Deep, reverberating, flammable denial.

In a blink of an eye he’s got me lifted off the ground, my legs wrapped around him as he carries me by the thighs. It’s only a few steps, then I feel the cool wall slam against my back, and even though it’s far from as powerful as he could have, it’s still enough to make me gasp in excitement. Something I’d have done again if I’d had the air for it when his lips and teeth latch on to my neck and shoulder, deep growls of lust muffled by the skin.

I feel how he aligns the quivering member between my slippery folds. “Yeah....”

“Then ask…nicely.” The smirk is palpable.

Looks like he’s still got some power over the situation. “Please…fuck me. Hard.” I swallow at the intake of his breath.

I know already that the Captain’s well endowed. I’ve held his cock in my hand, played with my lips and tongue. Still it makes me gasp and moan as he pushes inside me, stretching the walls and allowing me to adjust every other inch until he’s sheathed deep within my slippery heat.

“You okay, doll?” he breathes against my ear, nuzzling the nose in my hair.

I can’t answer with words, only roll my hips to egg him on. And he does begin, slow and rhythmically at first, allowing me to meet each thrust with a tip of my pelvis to augment the sensation each time our bodies clash. Scarlet nails dig into his shoulders. The pace quickens in unison with the growing need from both of us, and he Steve has to pin me by the hips to the wall because my back arches. His grip is bruising, I register in the ecstatic fog of the nearing climax, and still the dull pain adds to the orchestra of pleasurable sensations and swells within me. Each rutting roll of his hips calls forth animalistic sounds from both of us although most are swallowed by gasps for air or the desperate kisses we exchange.

When the walls come crashing down, there’s not even the slightest inkling of control left in me. All I can feel is Steve and the explosive bliss flooding through my body and soul while the muscles convulse in my womb and tense everywhere else. It sends Steve over the edge too. With a roar that sticks in his throat, he rams the cock deep inside and shudders repeatedly just like me as I, or we, begin the decent from the peak of pleasure.

Only when our breaths have evened nearly completely does he carry me to the shower, my legs still wrapped around his waist and his burning, although deflating, heat inside me. Each step bring a new kiss.

…

Lying in his arm, head resting on Steve’s chest and my limps wrapping around the perfect body, it feels strangely familiar. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it’s here it’s more peaceful than expected. More…right.

“Sweetheart?” His quiet words make me look up at him, meeting his ice-blue gaze happily. “I didn’t plan for this. I’m happy, don’t ever think otherwise…I’d just…I wanted to take you on a date first…”

The sigh can also be a giggle and I know I have to clarify my mirthful reaction. “If it’s up to me, then we’ve got plenty of times for dates from now on.”

“Good. I’d like that.”

Snuggling closer, there’s no doubt in my heart that he means it.

#Steve rogers x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu drabble #smut #lemons!!#captain america #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #marvel cinematic universe #Captain america x you #Steve rogers x you #Captain America x reader #steve #mcu #sexy steve #soft steve

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