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consultingskeletondetective · 4 months

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Colonel's Girl

You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits.

Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome.

“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”

“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.

“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.

“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”

Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.

König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you.

“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”

Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile.

“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”

“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”

“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.

“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled.

You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian.

A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.

“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule.

You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated.

You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.

Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be.

The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.

You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.

“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.

König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.

“Sir-my breakfast…”

“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you.

“Help yourself, ma’am.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.”

König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot.

You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men.

It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.

It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.

“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”

You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand.

König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury.

It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.

“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question.

“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”

“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”

König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.

“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”

König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.

“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base.

“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.

The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.

You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.

“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.

“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him.

König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him.

Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.

“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”

“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.

“Have I offended you?”

Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.

“Just leave me alone.”

There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.

“As you wish.”

He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.

König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.

Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.

“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.”

“Relax, he’s not going to know.”

“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”

“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”

“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”

They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office.

It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.

You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt.

A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.

“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.

Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.

The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso.

You frowned and took a step closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual.

“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”

“It’s fine, really.”

You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”

König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”

“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You didn’t.” He replied.

“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.

“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”

“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”

There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”

König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”

König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”

You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.

“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”

You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.

“It’s not important now-”

“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”

Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.

“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”

You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did.

You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.

König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary.

You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something .

He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling.

König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face.

You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least.

“May I ask you a question?”

Oh. “Of course.”

“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”

You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”

“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”

Forthright . You forgot.

You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.

“Right.”

“It’s not your problem.”

König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.”

Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”

König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life.

“What message?” König asked suddenly.

“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.

“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”

Oh.

“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.

“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”

You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant.

“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”

“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”

Oh, this was very fucking bad.

“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”

“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”

You blinked.

“Wha- why would you think that?”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”

When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.

“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.

You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”

“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”

“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”

“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”

“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”

“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”

König didn’t respond.

“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”

“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.

…

The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care.

You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury.

You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”

“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”

“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”

Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”

Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.

…

You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit.

You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk.

You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.

“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”

König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.

He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw.

“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”

You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.

“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”

You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private.

“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.

König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”

“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”

You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded.

“What?” You asked.

“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.”

“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”

You took a bold step forward.

“And are you?”

König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.

König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer.

As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.

He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.

…

The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.

You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.

Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.

“Schatz?”

Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.

König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.

“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.

He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.

…

The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared.

You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you.

You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.

“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.

“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”

You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming.

“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”

“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”

“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”

One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else.

He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before.

Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.

“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly.

“I - I want you, too.”

Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.

“K-König,” you murmured quietly.

“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.

“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”

“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.

“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.

He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.

“Did you just have an orgasm?”

“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand.

“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.

“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds.

“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.

“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”

“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.

“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.

“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”

“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”

“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.

“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.

“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.

“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”

“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently.

Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.

“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”

“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”

“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs.

“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”

“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you.

“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”

He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.

You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.

“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”

“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.

“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”

“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”

You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls.

Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.

“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”

“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”

König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.

“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”

“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”

“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks.

König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.

You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.

“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”

He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”

You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.

“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”

This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.

“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”

He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.

“What?” You asked.

“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”

#fanfiction #call of duty #cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #smut #cod smut

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voice-of-illogical-sense · 8 months

Text

#the avengers #marvel #loki #hobnobs #biscuits #“I have an army”#“we have a Hulk”#“i have a pack of chocolate hobnobs”#british humour #video

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Lips anon! Dark King Miguel and the gentle princess. The original one except Miguel is the king you dread to marry. Even more so when you meet him. He's a hulking man adorned with obsidian armor laced with gold. Cold piercing red eyes. If you weren't terrified, you would have seen how handsome he was, and that his gaze was filled with intrigue rather than hatred.

He takes your hand in armored claws, and kisses it. Now you blush.

You were to spend a good chunk of time in the palace with him until the day of the wedding. At first it's a nightmare because you are with someone who's slaughtered thousands of men, but he's gentle with you. Not exactly kind. But gentle.

Oh oh, imagine she took a little diary with her. She records her time in his lands, and he finds it while snooping in her room (checking for any weapons and such). He reads it and finds quite a bit about her. He rolls his eyes at the passage of her describing her dream man, but he is very intrigued about her wanting a bunch of children. He can give that to her, he wants many heirs too 🤭

Im such a sucker for these sort of tropes :'D ❤️❤️❤️ (Had to write this twice cause Tumblr erased the draft midway 😭😭)

You fretted in your chambers.

Despite the kingdom's overall economy and exterior political relations were thriving, the feeling of wariness set heavyly on your chest. The Queen and King had forbidden your stay at the most recent council's meeting, and when you demanded an explanation, you were met with nothing but silence and pained looks.

"Your Majesty! Come back here! You can't go inside!"

"They are hiding something from me, Lucille. I know it!"

"But you just can't interrupt!" Your maid and friend had been trying to prevent to get in the throne room. She caught your arm and looked solemn for a moment.

"You... You too?"

She shook her head and sighed, pulling you to a more private spot.

"You must be very quiet, ok?" Lucille guided you through a secret little passageway you didn't know the castle had. Hidden in plain sight that took you exactly where you wanted, a small hole on the wall enough for you too take a glimpse of the room.

Sparse, war table on a side, some guards you couldn't recognize stood next to a chair, partially revealing who sat in it. You could only get a small reveal of his arms. Dark skinned, strong arms clad in obsidian and golden that ended in a claw like gauntlet.

"Your Majesty" Your dad spoke, a slight tremor in his voice, "I think we are rushing into conclusions, ser. You'll see our men-"

"I don't want your men, neither your women. My army is more than enough and if I wished, your kingdom would be wiped out at my command."

You father stressed kn his chair as your mother just watched with keen eyes the display of power.

"We might not be a large kingdom, your majesty-"

"You're right, ser. You're like a tiny and annoying stone that got in my greaves, but I have had enough bloodshed for now"

"T-Then what is it you want, your majesty?"

You frowned at the armored man's attitude as dread crept up your bones. His gauntlet curled on his head, pondering as he slicked his soft, wavy and dark locks back.

"Surprise me, your majesty" He sneered the two last words and you swallowed.

"I will give you the most precious thing I possess, your highness." Your mother spoke confidently as her eyes were casted at the man.

"Being?"

"My daughter. The princess."

Lucille gasped and you quickly covered her mouth. His ears perked at the sound and tensed, but ignored it since he just chuckled.

"I came here in order for you to understand why I need the West passage of your borders open, not to get married." He stood and it was yout time to gasp at the size of him. He looked gigantic, your father had to crane his head up to meet his eyes.

"Think about it, your highness." Your mother pressed as she also stood.

"We can't open the passage due to political differences between our Kingdom and Erunia. It's closing wasn't to meddle in your affairs, but more like a preventive solution in our safety, in case an invasion happened. The least of things we would want is another war against a powerful kingdom we know we have no chance against. "

The obsidian clad man seemed to pay attention to your mother's words

"Sure, our Kingdom is thriving again, and economy and politics seem promising, but you must also understand we have nothing much to offer you when we are still recovering from a war. We still mourn, and we are getting on our feet again."

Your throat tightened upon her mentioning mourn. Your brother, the prince had died in battle.

"And for me to offer you, this kingdom's most precious jewel... I'll leave it to your interpretation."

The man seemed to relax slightly. Political things weren't your strength but, you didn't have to be a genius to know that tension had been rising within the neighbor kingdoms. Yours was a small one that served as a bridge among the others. Without you, the rest would collapse bit by bit.

"I offer you protection, in exchange of your daughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes. They were using you like an object. The deal was sealed, and so was your fate.

------

You had refused to see your parents after that, your mother had explained that it was for the kingdom's best interest.

"But what about me? I know that is selfish to think this way but, this is not what I want."

"It's not about what you want, more like what must be done. Your duty as a princess is to see for the people's interest, my dear. Our wishes matter little when the men think it's funny to play war."

"But mother, how could I possibly marry someone like that? Arachne kingdom is ruthless! And so is it's ruler!"

"We had no choice, my dear. Your brother... Im sure your brother would have chosen to try and wage a war against him to keep our autonomy... There is enough bloodshed as it is for now." She cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

"Besides, he is not that bad. He was... civil and wise enough to hear us. And now, thanks to you we have his protection and a new chance of being the kingdom we used to be."

-----------

You were set to depart to Arachne's kingdom within two weeks, and you made sure to enjoy the last bits of your freedom in your home. The wedding was set within 3 months. Or so the dark scroll the mysterious man had sent, said.

And when that day arrived, your carriage departed between sobs, anguish and heartfelt goodbyes. You didn't like the feeling of being seen as a martyr, but it gave your people hope.

----

If you had to describe Arachne's beauty you'd settle for twisted. A contradiction of many types of beauty melded in a single space. The outskirts were full of thorns so thick you thought your carriage would be crushed before even reaching the castle, but the more your caravan approached, the sceneries changed into something less harrowing to a more utopic sort of settling.

Tall towers stood proud in the different cities, but one thing you couldn't help but notice were the elite guards. Mostly clad in a light armor, red and blue, a spider-skull like emblem on their chest. You weren't allowed to bring Lucille with you, a strange petition from this... Miguel King.

Miguel O'Hara. Ruler of Arachne. Commander of an elite force with abilities that surpassed the common guard forces. Many said it was his secret to get him where he was. Despite the rumors about the kingdom being desolated and hunger stricken, witnessing the opposite with your own eyes made your heart a little hopeful.

After all he had sent a small crew of four to guard you during the trip. A blonde girl with a left side of her head shaven, a tall dark young man with braids on each side of his head slicked back with a look that pierced your soul, Another black man with many perforations in his face, with the strangest hairdo you had seen in someone, and their commander. A tall, black slender woman with a red and obsidian armor. None of you talked during the trip. But the pierced face young man and the blonde girl offered you small, almost sympathetic smiles your way.

----

Your arrival at the castle was announced. Your four escorts guided you to the main hall and kneeled before the man you had only caught a minimal glimpse of. Red eyes regarded your form, clad in a emerald green with golden trims dress.

You could notice his eyes widening just slightly as you entering the room. And then he stood. Your breath was caught in your throat and just as your father, you had to crane your head up to meet his eyes. Captivating yet full of unspeakable things. But you were certain, hatred wasn't one of them, rather wonder. He stared at you with mild curiosity.

You revered before him.

"Princess (Name) of Theleria, at your service, my lord." Sweet and soft spoken. A stark contrast of his overall aura. He noticed the small tremor in your hands and chuckled.

"Welcome, Princesa." Despite his imposing and intimidating looks, his royal etiquette shone through.

"Make yourself at home" Or so it did it's best. He returned to his work. He wasn't much for words as you were escorted to your own chambers. You certainly were swooned by the place grandeur and the elite force you had heard so much.

"Your Majesty sends his apologies, he won't be able to meet you during dinner. Would you like to eat on your chambers, or in the dining hall?" The man wore another red and blue armor, you had noticed that only commanders wore a certain type of armor.

"In my room, ser. Thanks."

He nodded with a smile and left. Your room was enormous, easily mistaken for a whole wing. You had dinner in your room.

--------

"Where is she?"

"In her room. She preferred to eat inside."

"Hm." Miguel hummed as he spreaded some map before him. Peter looking at him.

"Want me to arrange a tea meeting with her?"

Miguel's nose scrunched and he shook his head.

"Make it a lunch. I don't like tea."

"I know, coffee guy. You think her parents will keep their word?"

"They better, if not, we'll wipe them."

"Wouldn't that be harrowing for your future bride?"

Miguel arched an eyebrow at him

"Merely political affairs."

"She's pretty"

"Hm and gentle. You know what happens to gentle people."

"They get an arranged marriage with a ruthless belicist of a king." Peter couldn't help but giggle at his mortified expression.

"One more-"

"And I'm out. I know, I know pal. Get some rest. Your eyebags are packing for vacation already" Peter smiled at his annoyed sigh, then left him be.

-----

The lunch never came, as you were stood up, again. You had expected much, after all it was an arranged marriage, of course the desire of knowing eachother just for pretense was only in your imagination. However you had noticed that his gaze lingered on you for more than he actually let on.

You had been sorted through the city, to meet it's people, and so far mostly looked happy? Children ran around a fountain, merchants exposed and sold their goods, art supplies and a small leathery notebook, caught your attention. The extense array of colors had you grinning and marveling at things you had never seen before. Charcoals, complete drawing kits, turpentine, canvas made out of the richest materials.

Arachne's people were kind, welcoming and it just made you wonder how such kind of people had a blood thirsty man for a king? Not that he intentionally waged wars just for fun and giggles. Peter watched you with a lazy smile, occasionally recommending things to try. He and the blonde girl, whose name happened to be Gwen, we're kind enough to answer each of your questions. You didn't dare to ask about Miguel. He seemed too busy to be disturbed and by the way his face was always set in a permanent frown, made you wonder how would things would be in your wedding day.

He was aloof, too buried in his own world of War and battles. You couldn't help but nod with an absentminded expression at Peter saying he won't be for dinner either.

"Of course." That's all you uttered before you returned to the castle and retreated to your room. Your chest constricting tightly.

-----------

"You know, getting any sort of contact with her wouldn't hurt you." Peter spoke as he was polishing his gauntlets.

Miguel remained silent, eyes too focused on the scroll before him.

"How was the trip?"

"She was like a kid in a candy store when we stopped in an art shop."

"Something she liked?" Peter smiled and scrubbed the wax away from the gauntlet

"Paintings and art supplies. She loved the cherry pie and couldn't stop marveling at how dreamlike the city looked"

"Hm. Her kingdom is... small. Nothing much to look around. Anyways, get her what she liked. "

"Beg your pardon?" Peter blinked at him

"Told you to get her what she liked."

"Of course. "

-----

The following days you were either holed up in your bedroom, or in the gardens making small talk with the servants. They seemed good and easygoing people, and it kept you from giving into the loneliness feeling that seemed to loom over your head with each passing day.

Sometimes you'd caught glimpses of him, a small group of elite soldiers tailing behind him in scary synchronization. Your eyes would meet for seconds, but he'd just look away and continue his work.

At this point you knew what the apologetic look on Peter or Gwen meant. He wasn't showing up.

"I'm sorry."

"Have I done something to... upset him this way? To the point of him maybe finding my company repulsive? "

Peter seized you with a frown.

"I know he is a busy man, wars don't wage on their own, I know much. But..." You shook your head and sighed, "Nevermind that. I'm just being pretentious. Bid you a good evening, ser Peter."

You bowed to him and left to your room. You had refused kindly your dinner.

---------

The next day a couple of guards entered your room as you were writing a letter for your parents. They saluted Peter and left.

"Your Majesty." He bowed and guided your to the medium sized wooden box.

"A gift from the king" Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks growing a bit warmer.

"Thank you, ser Peter." You smiled and rummaged through its contents, small squeal upon looking at the leathery notebook you had seen before. Peter left and you wasted no time into enjoying your gift.

Papers, watercolors, oil paints, colored waxes, painting brushes, paint remover, it felt like a dream. Your chest felt giddy at the idea that showed up in your mind.

-----

You gave Peter a small box with something you had done.

"Ser Peter?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Could you give this to the King?" You handed him a small velvet pouch. A small canvas in it.

"Do you think he would like it?"

"I'm sure he will, your majesty" Peter smiled.

------------

Miguel took the pouch suspiciously, but his eyes widened at the small painting of himself with a small piece of scroll. A fancy and curvy scribblings on it

Thank you for your kindness, my lord.

Your penmanship impeccable, years of princess etiquette and training reflected on it. his lips curved a bit. You had gotten a good angle of him.

---------

He snuck in your room as you had gone to the city with Peter and Gwen again. This time, the man with the pierced face came along.

He didn't expect it to be so you. Paintings you did, dried on the window, drawings of things that caught your interest the most; cherries, birds, nature, and kids. Not that he didn't trust you, he just wanted to see with his own eyes what you had done so far with his gift.

He was glad to find you hadn't wasted it at all. The leathery book however made him to pick it up. It was your own diary. His hands carefully flipped the pages, reading into his contents.

A drawing of him with the caption "king of Arachne and quite aloof." the latter in small letters. He sighed and flipped the pages.

The bakery man is such a gentleman! And his pies so scrumptious.

He chuckled at the little pie drawing you did. He found more descriptions in what seemed to be this type of ideal man for you. He rolled his eyes. But the last lines of the pages caught his interest the most.

After losing my brother, it has come to my thinking. I would love a big family on my own.

You wanted kids. Heirs.

The steps outside alerted him as he tossed the diary back on your bed, and soon you'd enter through the door. The way your eyes looked at him with surprise made his heart to flutter softly. He had met rivals in the battlefield, all giving him a horrifying look, begged him to not come closer. But never he had someone to look at him like you were.

His eyes softened as he walked over you. Lips pressed together, you bowed.

"My lord."

He bowed too, adding more wide at your surprise.

"Enjoying your gift?".

"Very much. Thank you." His thank you gift came into mind.

"Did you... receive mines?"

"Of course."

"Did you like?"

Sweet face looked at him, expectantly. His pulse quickened.

"Si." He mumbled and you looked at him confused for a second.

"I'll take it as a yes?" You smiled.

So so sweet.

He relaxed.

"I'll see you in the dining hall."

"Oh?"

To your surprise he looked at you as he took your hand and kissed the back of your soft palm.

"Don't be late". He left.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #royal au #arranged marriage #💋 anon #loved this so much ♡#asks and replies

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tobimilobi · 2 years

Text

Voldemort:

I HAVE AN ARMY!!!

Ron:

Yeah? OH YEAH?! (Don't know what to say) And we... we... umm... OH!! AND WE HAVE MCGONAGALL!!!

Peter Parker behind the wall.

Peter:

AND WE HAVE A HULK!!!

Ron:

Voldemort:

Peter:

\ (•◡•) /

#shitpost #peter parker #lmao #chat #funny #potter #avegers #we have a hulk #I just have to #:D #Spiderman #I have an army #lol

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floilee · 2 months

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Loki: I have an army!

Kate: We have Yelena!

Loki: You didn't mean the "Hulk"?

Bruce: Oh no, believe it, the big guy is scared to death of her.

Loki:

Natasha holding tears: I'm so proud of my little sister!

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idk-bruh-20 · 1 year

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Tony, the futurist

Buckle in folks, I've had some thoughts and I'm about to make it ✨everyone's✨ problem.

Been thinking about Tony Stark, the futurist who saw the end of the world.

Tony, who in IM1 escapes kidnapping and torture and says, "I shouldn't be alive. Unless if was for a reason."

who, in The Avengers, has this exchange with Bruce Banner:

Tony: You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart. This stops it. This little circle of light. It's part of me now, not just armor. It's a… terrible privilege. Bruce: But you can control it. Tony: Because I learned how. Bruce: It's different. Tony: Hey, I've read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should've killed you. Bruce: So you're saying that the Hulk… the other guy… saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for what? Tony: I guess we'll find out. Bruce: You might not like that. Tony: You just might.

Right after this, Cap tells Tony, "You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

And then Tony flies a nuke into a wormhole, tries to call his girlfriend because he thinks these are his last moments, did not go in there expecting to survive.

Although he survives, he witnesses an alien army so terrifying, so unbeatable, it gives him crippling PTSD nightmares and panic attacks, knowing they are not prepared to defend the earth.

I'm thinking about Tony who, in AOU, gets manipulated by Wanda into witnessing his worst nightmare.

Which, by the way, involves losing all of his newfound friends.

Later, he has this exchange with Nick Fury:

Tony: And I'm the man who killed the Avengers. I saw it. I didn't tell the team, how could I? I saw them all dead, Nick. I felt it. The whole world, too. It's because of me. I wasn't ready. I didn't do all I could. Fury: The Maximoff girl, she's working you, Stark. Playing on your fear. Tony: I wasn't tricked, I was shown. It wasn't a nightmare, it was my legacy. The end of the path I started us on. Fury: You've come up with some pretty impressive inventions, Tony. War isn't one of them. Tony: I watched my friends die. You'd think that'd be as bad as it gets, right? Nope. Wasn't the worst part. Fury: The worst part is that you didn't.

Tony's worst fear is to survive in a world he's failed to save. He has to "do all [he] could" or else the future he's terrified of will happen and it will be his fault.

(Not to put too fine a point on it, but there's a reason why Tony and Peter are so compatible as mentor and mentee.)

Tony's seen what's coming, and he's willing to do whatever it takes.

Here's the thing, though:

Tony doesn't actually want to die.

In AOU, when they're arguing about why he created Ultron, Tony says this to Cap:

"Isn't that the mission? Isn't that the 'why we fight'? So we get to go home?"

He tells Bruce that the reason they should create Ultron is to have "peace in our time."

He tells Pepper that his constant tinkering, his inability to ever, ever rest is because he needs to keep her safe from the oncoming threat.

Tony has a life he wants to protect, people he wants to keep safe. And, unlike the other Avengers, he knows exactly how impossible this will be to achieve.

Tony is the only Avenger who understands how severely outmatched they are. Maybe Thor understands the threat, but he has no ability to imagine losing.

Tony tries to get them to understand:

Tony: Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it. We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there? That's… that's the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that? Steve: Together. Tony: We'll lose. Steve: Then we'll do that together, too.

Well, they do lose. And they don't do it together.

And it turns out Tony was right about everything.

He was right that he would survive to face his world that he'd failed to save.

He was right that the Avengers would not be enough.

He was right that Bruce's powers would be worthwhile someday.

And, apparently,

some people think he was right that he was only alive for this reason.

Because, obviously, the only "reason" for someone like Tony Stark to be alive is to eventually sacrifice himself, right?

A character so traumatized can only find peace in death.

Right?

No.

Stop that.

Tony Stark may have been willing to risk his life for his family, but that doesn't mean he wanted that to be his end.

Remember when this happened?

Bruce: Saved it for what? Tony: I guess we'll find out. Bruce: You might not like that. Tony: You just might.

Bruce gets to live long enough to like his ending.

Remember when this happened?

All Tony ever wanted to do was make the world a better place.

And, what about this?

You're telling me that Yinsen didn't value family above all else?

That he thought Tony should die and leave them behind?

No.

Tony Stark is a futurist.

He is the Cassandra of the MCU. He warns the others constantly of the oncoming threat that only he, apparently, can see. (Even Thanos calls him "cursed with knowledge.")

No one believes him. Alone, he tries to prepare for the threat that he has witnessed. He sits with his nightmares and tries to find a way around them, constantly.

He builds a life worth living, finds people worth protecting, just like Yinsen told him to.

To protect the future, he does all he possibly can.

Tony deserved to be part of the future too.

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hainethehero · 10 months

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Steve Rogers Headcannon- why Steve was so against the Sokovia Accords (trigger warning as this analysis involves SA/r*pe)

I think we can all agree that the MCU absolutely desecrated Steve Rogers' character to the point where people actually believe he's a horrible person- especially after Civil War. But I've had this headcannon about why Steve was so vehemently against the Sokovia Accords and its never been more obvious after She-Hulk.

From the jump (CATFA), we see that the serum is generally regarded as "property of the U.S government/SSR" thus, whoever is injected with it becomes government property by proxy. Ironically, after getting the serum Steve's freedom becomes limited. He has to follow orders and put on a show for the senators because they're the ones who have the power and position to fund the fight against the N*zis. He's their dancing monkey. We even see evidence of this when Steve is made to parade about like a showgirl in this scene 👇

Now, throughout the MCU there's an ongoing interest in Steve's "virginity" and cheap jokes at his perceived lack of sexual proclivities. We see it in CATFA, CATWS, Avengers 1 & 2 etc. Which leads us to She-Hulk. There's this whole reveal in that one episode that Steve lost his virginity to a showgirl on one of the USO tours.

This is where my headcannon comes in.

I don't think he lost his virginity consensually. I think he was forced into sexual acts by powerful men like the senators and military officials who saw Steve as a literal puppet and of no true value as he was not being used in battle or the war yet. Remember, they initially saw him as a failure because the serum was lost and their plans for an entire army of allied supersoldiers were lost after Erskine died. Now, for anyone who knows the comic Steve Rogers, it's not in his character design to have sex with a random girl he just met on tour- a tour which by the way didn't last that long.

We did see, however, that Steve is easily taken advantage of, esp in this scene 👇

Which ultimately leads to my main point, Steve was against the Accords because he knew that giving up their autonomy meant physical, mental and sexual abuse. The government wouldn't just be able to control where they went but also who they worked for and as he said in CACW, "[the UN] is run by people with agendas and agendas change. If we sign the accords we surrender our right to choose."

Steve knows what that much power (over super-powered beings like the Avengers) can lead to and he doesn't want that to happen to them. Add on the very heartbreaking case of how Bucky's autonomy was stripped from him as well and that only strengthens his case.

I just find it hard to believe that Steve would lose his virginity so cheaply and honestly shame on the writers for even insinuating that. He was taken advantage of and assaulted and this is one of the main reasons why he's against giving up his freedom to the very same people who would use and abuse him without a second thought.

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sylvaridreams · 2 months

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I'm going to try and word this better than I did at 1 am venting on cohost last night, and maybe slightly gentler. I haven't finished the SotO update from yesterday. I got home, played for a couple of hours, did some meta on the current map, triiiiied to get myself to go back to story... and I couldn't.

I was BORED. It was quite honestly boring. Any dialogue that matters is Peitha talking to her people. I am a stage prop that occasionally vocalizes expositional questions and fires arrows at grunt mobs.

I could physically feel myself losing any remaining interest in the story as I clicked "what does this mean? What do you think of Peitha's plan?" type questions (which offer a poor illusion of choice in conversation. Look! Dialogue options! You can click all of these in any order you like but you must click them all!)

Why should I care about this story? I'm being brought along as the muscle that Peitha doesn't really need. I'm not offering anything special I'm terms of skill. I'm not an invaluable resource. I'm not even being utilized as the leader that gw2 has ALWAYS made me! It's always been "You're out there leading the armies, commanding all the way from the front line to the supply chains!" Now I'm just kind of around. Run a few events and come back. Characters refer to me and I apparently have no in-game response. MY CHARACTER doesn't seem invested.

And so many new characters. Every drop, it's like, have a bunch more named people! I was learning names during drop 1, and know some of the Wizards off the top of my head, but honestly I’m not bothering anymore. Why should I? Even if Nexus isn't killed off in the next chapter I play, I'm never going to meet this character again after he stops serving the story.

And where IS the story? Where is the meat? Drop 1 was at least interesting to me. Secret society hiding demons from the Commander. Getting sucked into this strange and horrifying place. Getting the life beat out of Alba by a hulking, terrifying demon and crawling away in fear. Escaping into the arms of strangers and getting this unknown voice in Alba's head, talking to him, saying what he wanted to hear, teasing him. Him refusing to tell anyone she was in there, because he *trusted this unknown voice in his head over all these strangers.* The story lulled a lot and it wasn't like... prime gw2 content. But it had a few hooks. When in Amnytas, Alba GASPED "Peitha!" right outside of the next story step and said "I can *see* you," and I turned my camera and saw what I knew, what Alba had to have suspected, confirmed. That there was a demon using his mind as a lounge. THAT was a moment, it was SOMETHING!

At least it was fun at points, at least there was some small amount of intrigue and mystery. And from there it was all just, "take a backseat, Wayfinder. This isn't YOUR story." I'm getting nothingburger bites out of each new story drop. Oh we went into Nayos to take the fight to them and killed Peitha's model reskin cousin. Anything else that drop? Anything? No but next time we recruited some general to fight with us! Can I get a smidgen of story? Something to hang onto? The only thing this drop that hasn't been "Don't care didn't ask plus I've seen your character model elsewhere" was Alba being called "that ugly creature" by a kryptis.

That's all I've got. I'm not enjoying it. I don't like SotO. And it is not for lack of trying it, it's not because i just don't like change and don't wanna see something new and different! This expansion feels like an empty parody of Guild Wars 2, and it feels like a slap in the face to anyone who was invested in Tyria. Pre-release they really hyped up that "It's time for new places and new people! We're gonna get a new cast and explore a vast new world!" I CARED about that world, which we still had SO MUCH left to explore. Are the borders of the map even the ends of the world of Tyria or does it keep going? Who cares. There's shit going on above the clouds. I cared about those CHARACTERS. Does Alba get to see people that he loves and cares about ever again? Is he making it to the wedding? Does he get a chance to go home and see anyone? Like yes we are not chained up in the Tower between instances, we can still play the game in those old maps, but the characters have been written out of the story.

And frankly these new ones are shitty replacements. I don't care about these people. I maybe had some small amount of "OK cool its Zojja I know her!" but it's not like I had any deep care or feeling for her. Not personally. Peitha was interesting at first but being brought along as part of her nameless, faceless grunt entourage has made me lose a lot of interest. She's not going to be a core character post-SotO. She either dies at the end, or takes over as King, and at best becomes a very occasional callback. "Ah, King Peitha! It's been some time, how is Nayos!" She's not going to reclaim the throne and then ignore rebuilding her people's infrastructure to hang out in Commander’s brain all day or join them on quests. We are a temporary ally and a stepping stone for her story.

Which sucks.

In terms of the rest of the SotO cast, it again feels like a pale imitation of prior Gw2 content. Like they're saying "remember season 1, meeting all those people one by one who would become your best friends and allies in life? 🤔 " and then they didn't even do it that way. Season 1 was a gradual introduction to these characters that you were given time, story, and Reason to care about. If Braham, Rox, Marjory, Kasmeer, Taimi, Rytlock, and Canach had all shown up and said "oh we're the Best Friends Patrol. Come along with us stranger!" I would have felt like a tag along. Not an equal in the group. Instead we met on level ground. We became a team together, we became friends together, each of us a vital part.

Which is opposite to how it feels now. These characters have deep history going back AGES. I just showed up, no one respects me, I'm not privy to any information or details on who is who and why should I care, I don't Get story time to ACTUALLY hang out and meet these people and develop my OWN relationships with them. When I leave, they will not care. I'm just being brought along like a lost kid at this point, until we reach customer service and they can drop me off, or until I wander away and find another deep group to follow.

I don't like this story. I don't like the setting. I don't like the characters or the group dynamic. I don't feel like an EQUAL in this expansion, I don't feel like I matter. Anyone could stand here and ask supporting questions to drive the dialogue between the 2-3 characters that actually matter, which again, does not include me.

And FRANKLY I hate that no one can say anything that isn't glowing praise of GW2 and Anet and every little detail is just scrumptious don't worry I love it, without a bunch of vague posts filtering in about "so much Negativity, everyone is a HATER, you just don't support The Writers and want them to FAIL, well then stop playing the game and delete your account and blog and go away forever, REAL fans LOVE nothingburger" to shun whoever dared say "I didn't like some or all of it." I'm happy for you if you're liking SotO but I am not. I'm sorry if you don't understand that criticizing something that I've played for a decade doesn't mean I hate it. I'm sorry if you can't take the MILD CONFLICT of me or someone else saying "I love this thing that you love too but I don't like how the new part feels" but most of us learned about conflict in kindergarten or at least through children's picture books and TV, so idk. Maybe you just need to cope at that point.

As it stands I don't like the expac. I don't see Anet turning it around and blowing my mind with the ending. And I really don't even care how it ends. I was asked the other day "how are you going to handle Peitha?" (in terms of the canon that I write, which has already moved past the end of SotO.) And frankly I was like. I dunno. It doesn't matter to me. She's either dead or on the throne, I don't care much either way. We could get the huge plot twist at the end that Peitha was the big bad or Isgarren or WHOEVER THE FUCK, and I wouldn't care. None of this matters to me. I'm going back to Tyria with my writing. The rest is filler.

#soto spoilers #gw2 spoilers

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homesickn · 1 year

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Isn't bite also touch?

Chapter one! (Weekly updates)

(Loki x Female demon!reader, eventual smut!)

Check chapter two here!

SUMMARY: Loki was saved by a demon and now the demon girl is attached to him like a cat is attached to catnip.

Is this trickery? Is this Devil lying to Loki to gift him punishment?

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence (future chapters), angst, mentions of trauma, emotional manipulation, demonic creatures.

Tags: Hurt Loki, protective Loki, protective reader, grumpy Loki, fluff and angst, Grumpy/Sunshine, hurt/comfort, soft Loki at times (he's touch-starved but emotionally unstable), bubbly reader, (future) demon-sex.

Note: Hello! This is my first time writing for Loki and sharing a story of mine, English is not my first language so please be kind.

Everything has been made with lots of love, and I'll see if I add more tags as the story goes. If you like it, please let me know your thoughts!

“We caught him. We got Loki.” Steve Rogers bragged, spreading the news to the team through the tiny speaker the headphones had.

Some sighed relieved, others—specifically Tony, accompanied by Natasha, hurried to examine the cell he was going to stay at, temporarily, before being sent to receive Asgardian punishment.

Loki didn't seem even slightly defeated at the concept of staying in the cell once again, it's almost as if he's planned it, and with Loki, you could never know. He still had the smugness in his expression, but he lacked his army and scepter, so the Avengers couldn't help but be overly suspicious of his unbothered behavior.

The cell was intrinsically made to protect the external side from whatever— or whoever— was inside, a stronger, hopefully more long-lasting copy of the first that was destroyed before the official New York attack. The concept was created by S.H.I.E.L.D with the support of Stark to provide safety to everyone whenever Hulk decided to come out, and Loki knew it was still that way, but at the moment those were the special occasions in which it can be lent to any dangerous individual.

But seeing as they had to strengthen the new cell, based on what happened to the first, Loki didn't know what the improvements of this one were.

Anyhow, none of the Avengers expected that a being was rushing to the same spot some of them were, at the same time. You hurried sneakily hoping not to be found, hiding in the shadows to find the local you were informed of.

The shadows moved with you whenever you walked, in the literal sense, and morphing to whatever shape you desired. The silence that your footsteps provided was unfamiliar to human (or enhanced humans, or alien) ears.

When you arrived at the cell responsible for locking Loki — recently having discovered his name — you hesitated coming closer, seeing that Stark and Romanoff were there first. You chose the option of sticking to your shadows by the corner.

“Second time you come here, and this time Banner is well-protected and miles away. Should you have a plan for this, we'll lock you again so you can see that you will always lose no matter what you try next.” Tony's voice was loud and clear, giving no room to thinking otherwise, that's what he always sounded like.

His confident tone did not manage to afflict Loki's expression, so if he did feel the impact or had a change of emotions, it was unknown to the two watching his every move.

Natasha kept a serious glare at him, one that'd inspire others to shiver until they even dare question the temperature of the room. She waited patiently to see if Loki would snap and try some escapade at any given moment.

He didn't.

“I always have a plan, Stark. By now, you should know that. It would make our little encounters way simpler.” His velvety voice was surprisingly smooth and showed a contrast to the silence of the room, impacting them with the sophisticated and kept-together tone. Almost managing to make them shiver.

At least Tony, not Natasha (she didn't seem to be easily intimidated). Or you, the one that's still in the shadows.

“Well, then you can calculate your plan for as long as you'd like, for as many days as it takes, 'cause you're not getting yourself out of this prison. We made sure of it.” Natasha stated, and Tony quickly nodded in response, glancing at Romanoff and having his eyes come back to Loki.

After that, you watched them leave.

You could sense every moving thing in the huge room, your powers presented to you the incessant—and quite loud— heartbeat that was coming from Loki's chest. Blame it on yourself for being able to detect that but you silently wondered how they didn't notice.

After some more time spent in silence, you could sense Loki's nervousness increasing, it was palpable, and honestly, the atmosphere was becoming kind of pleasant to you, who decided to wait and analyze the way his emotions were changing.

Fear. Although he seemed to not want to demonstrate that, perhaps also afraid someone might be watching through the cameras.

Was nobody really going to come?

You realized with disdain that maybe his plan involved counting on a third-party. This time he couldn't possibly understand the patterns of the cell beforehand, he also couldn't appeal to the team's distaste for each other, so a fight like the other time wouldn't be able to be induced.

Maybe he thought Thanos would come for him, seeing as he led the army of Chitauri. Maybe he thought he'd be tracked and they'd come for him again, to finish the mission.

You knew this, you knew everything that involved vulnerability. Humans were somehow unique in this matter, but Gods always carried something special within and most of the times it is related to their godlike trait of specialty.

You get Zeus as an example: the leader of the Gods on Olympus, will always be scared of failure and being inferior, and when found in situations he sees as disrespectful his anger will always be human-like, his punishments will be tainted by an emotional and human anger.

This is something special about the Gods we can live with, this is what makes them and their stories interesting to humans, the feelings and flaws. Semblance to humanity.

Their flaws are deeper and carry more pain than humans could possibly experience. The God of Mischief, Tricks and Lies carried a long-time pain and years of trauma for being betrayed and lied to. It was interesting to watch life be ironic and to see the flashback coming to life behind their eyes.

To be frank, you weren't expecting him to depend on someone else to escape, it's supposed to be common nature for him by now. The distrust, the tricks any time, to be wise in the nature of misleading and manipulation.

But anyhow, you decided to wait and check if any other noise or heartbeat would make a sound in the room.

It didn't, still just Loki.

So you approached, still covered, protected from view by your shape-shifting shadows.

The atmosphere was colder than you had expected once you were in front of the cell, your hands touched the armored glass. Invisible now, abandoning your shadows. You didn't know if the cold was coming from him or if they just kept the air that way. Probably both.

Loki was in the middle of the cell now, facing his bed for the night.

His thoughts kept betraying his facial expressions, being louder than he allowed his face to show, they were a constant mess of scheming and planning different ways out, a bunch of diverse techniques for trickery with the intent of finding his freedom.

Honestly you were getting a bit of a headache, but you realized he clearly didn't know that to do. You could sense his restricted powers moving through his veins.

You touched the glass with your fingertips first, then, with your fingernails, applying a slight pressure to it. Making Loki violently flinch and turn his body back to the entrance expecting to see one of the Avengers there to taunt him.

He saw nothing and immediately frowned due to that. Then relaxed, noticing there was nobody there and thinking it might have been something else. You wondered if he could sense you or if he thought it was an illusion.

You decided to make use of the fact he still kept his front to the entrance—where you secretly were— and once again slowly scratched the glass he was being kept in.

Loki visibly flinched once again.

“Fine, I thought it was nothing at first but I can definitely feel someone here now. Who is it? Who's there?!” He asked out loud to the empty room.

You waited in silence, seeing his fear was quite the spectacle. It's humanly cruel to admit but the fear that comes from Gods are a treat to be felt and experienced. To you.

You were slightly shocked he could feel your presence there, although it did answer the doubt you had before to know if he could feel your presence or not.

You were tempted to scare him further, so mischievously as you decided to be, you closed your hand to a fist and knocked on the glass. Different areas, at the same time.

He looked around dramatically quick, closed his expression after noticing this was possibly a trick. He got back in place and his eyes dared to look forward— frighteningly exactly where you are—, and crossed his arms, presenting a —also—dramatic stance.

“Very funny, really adorable. I don't enjoy playing with witches, especially ones that won't show themselves, I'll let you know. Take off the spell.”

Really? I thought he liked tricks. You guess fear changes people, you could laugh at his scaredy cat behavior some other time.

You took off the spell and showed your human form to him, making a mental note of how he seemed to gasp when you appeared out of nowhere. You noticed the cell seemed to restrict his powers although it seemed not to erase it completely, which is a capable downfall for the team of humans, they should've checked this before.

You presented yourself in a full black uniform with a long matching cape covering your shoulders, and your hair was kept down and loosen. The most noticeable detail was the metal mask you kept covering your nose and mouth. Allowing him to stare only at your eyes, not being able to see your full face.

“Loki, Loki of Asgard.” Your voice broke the silence, your eyes seemed to shine a little brighter after pronouncing the words.

He stared at you, his eyes questioning and doubtful, multiple questions running through his mind.

“And who are you? One more of the freaks coming to teach me how to behave in midgardian society? How do you know who I am?”

“Let's humbly say that I'm here to…save you,” he couldn't help but laugh at that.

“And what's that supposed to mean? You were in silence just then for a while, you clearly want something from me, and I want to know what it is. And I wish to know who you are, or maybe…who you're probably working for.”

“One of Thanos' children?” he thought, you don't care enough to ask what it means.

You gave him a strange look he could not decipher.

“I work for no one, only myself. You can think of me as an angel, if you want, or if you need it. But I want to help you. Your powers have drawn me to you.”

“No angel would ever assume they feel drawn to greatness or power, I can only believe you may be a witch,” he eyed you up and down again, you noticed he seemed to do it a lot. Like he was constantly trying to understand things about you.

“No, I'm no witch. But I do admire them,” you let your head down a bit, then stare at him. Allowing your hands to try and reach the glass once again.

His eyes widened even before you managed to complete the touch. He thought you were going to scratch it again.

“No, no, don't do that! Stop scratching the glass!”

“Don't worry, I'm merely touching it this time.” you reached the glass and analyzed it, your hands glowing a black flowing matter, your powers, attempting to understand what it was made of and what could be its weakness. “Someone really doesn't want you to come out, it seems. The cell is reinforced by an invisibility spell that's hiding a layer of Adamantium.”

“I don't know what that is, but the cell wasn't built for me that's for sure.”

“It's a special metal, possibly the second strongest metal on Earth. Maybe it was built for you, or maybe not. I could sense your powers from miles away. You're more powerful than you think you are, with more experience you could turn a prison of Adamantium into multiple pieces.”

He seemed to get angrier at what you said. Immediately scowling at you.

“Are you claiming I'm not experienced with magic? What would you know?! I'm over a thousand years of magic experience, I'm pretty sure I can handle anything by now.”

“Then break the cage yourself.” you simply stated. “Do it then.”

“I can't, you dim-witted creature. As you can see, my magic is restricted.” He gesticulated to the cell around him, crossed his arms and looked at you.

“I know you carry more power than the supreme sorcerer in person. Again, if you had more faith in yourself mayhaps you'd be able to break it and find your way out on your own.” Your eyes wandered to the ground, making it seem like you didn't even care much, turning around slightly as if to go away.

“And you…you can break it?” he asked after some seconds, lowering his voice.

You turned back, looking over the whole glass. Your body leaned a bit backwards with you, showing a bit of drama through your movements.

Then you placed yourself exactly where you were, and straightened your posture to speak to him.

“Yes, yes I can break it for you. I'll help you.” You decided. He seemed overly suspicious of every movement you made.

Placing your hand on the glass you let yourself feel all the tingly numbness that comes with allowing your powers to overcome, then you feel the glass start shattering under your fingertips. The strength of the material was stronger than anything you were used to physically handle daily.

Surprisingly, Loki's hand started glowing a light green color and his eyes closed as if putting the same effort as you into attempting to break the glass, less than he usually would be able to but still trying. His body got closer to the glass, not actually daring to touch it yet.

Your powers together managed to crack the top of his glass cell, this was when the loud warning noise came along, ringing in your ears and making you flinch.

Loki grew alarmed and his magic was visibly weakening as the noise took over all the place. Seeing as these were extreme measures, you started putting double the effort to break it faster.

“It would be incredibly great if you could just help me again. It was good before, it was working.” You told him to make him pay attention to you once again. “You shouldn't let your emotions get in the way like that, I can sense your desperation from here, it's distracting!”

He looked at her in disbelief but he put his hands in front of himself again, his powers grew strongly green and the glass cracked more and more.

“You talk about desperation but I'm not the one that's raising my voice…” He muttered in the middle of everything.

“If you helped me I wouldn't need to!”

“Didn't you say you could do everything by yourself?”

“I'm just saying in a matter of hurry to get you out, it would be great to have your powers help me break the second most powerful metal on Earth!”

“You should thank the gods that I-”

“Well I don't! I simply DON'T thank the gods,” you said louder than before. He seemed surprised but quickly recomposed himself. “And stop attempting a threat, should the humans arrive I can let myself out easily. Be more grateful.”

“As if! For all I know you must be a witch planning on kidnapping me… But seeing as being with the midgardian costume-show is worse, I don't mind the entertainment of being kidnapped by a…“ He took a pause to look at you, and you raised an eyebrow at him, slightly tilting your head. “Uh…insane, scary witch.”

You could feel the heat increase and the announcement that there was an escape plan happening kept ringing loudly into the ears of both you. It would be a matter of time until the Avengers could track you and come back to the room. You both turned your heads to the entrance door that was right behind you, nothing yet.

Loki watched as your eyes seemed to go completely black in an instant, hands were getting shakier both yours and Loki's, then in the blink of an eye, the glass smashed in tiny little pieces.

Loki put his arms in front of his face due to the impact but you didn't, your hands were still glowing with darkness and gray speckles of light as the magic slowly dissolved. One of the multiple pieces of glass crossed your forehead marking a small bleeding cut, that's when you noticed you probably should have had the reaction to protect your body to the glass. You noticed a few tinier pieces made contact with your mask, making a quiet but obvious sound of ripping steel, only a little, but what a shame.

You didn't want Loki to get too suspicious of you so you didn't make it heal faster, you let it bleed a little and it's close to your left eye.

You watch it with interest, you quite like blood, you like the reminder you can bleed.

Putting your hand to the light wound and taking a bit of the blood on your skin, you let it taint your fingers a little red.

“We should go then.” You stated as a final decision.

You noticed that the moment the glass was destroyed, Loki's eyes seemed to get a bright blue shade for an instant, they even seemed a bit lost, then they went back to the green-grayish tone.

“Wait, we could–”

You teleported both of your ways out of there, right before the Avengers arrived.

★

You realized your plan carried no real structure and it upset you immensely. Now you were stuck in an isolated mossed area with an alien God that appeared to be in deep distress.

“You know this is great, where in the all the Nine even are we?” He looked around at that, checking the varied tree species the place had. And turned to look at you in disbelief.

“Are we still in the United States?!” He questioned loudly once again and started walking straight ahead.

“If there wasn't such pressure on us I could have teleported us somewhere nicer. I couldn't let them be too close,” with that you followed right behind him, managing to keep your footsteps steadier to make it seem as if you know what you're doing.

“If you had waited a little before teleporting us I could have gotten the Tesseract back! If we had the Tesseract I'd manage to find somewhere to hide, very far from here… You didn't let me dictate our plan and now look where we are,”

“The Tesseract?” You asked a bit confused, then you slowly nodded as you just remembered seeing something about that. “The bright blue cube the Avengers carried with them? Is it important?” You were curious now.

“Yes, it is property of Asgard. And it should be with me. They took it from me.” He started going faster and you hurried to match his steps.

“First of all, why? Second of all,” you paused as you tripped on the rocks. “Ugh. Second of all- I definitely should be the one on the front. Let me lead the way.”

You certainly didn't appreciate feeling inferior.

You ran a little to go and stay in front of him, turning your back to Loki and proceeding to walk first.

The Asgardian behind you was confused by the suddenness of your actions, and stomped his foot seemingly taking your choice as insolence.

“Where are we?! What the Hel is going on?!”

“I told you I was going to save you. I did, I took you out of that god forsaken cell, I freed you.”

“Freedom would be a solid belief if I could be by myself right now.”

“Hey. I have been nothing but nice,” you don't know why you were defensive. “And you have yet to mention why the Tesseract should be with you. I said I can do anything, if you convince me, maybe I can bring it to you,” you said firmly and stared right at him.

That made him pause his steps for a while, you were almost near a tunnel. You paused as well.

He blinked, and looked at you before speaking.

“It's the space stone, a stone that allows you to teleport anywhere you want at any given moment. It controls space in time, and I was using it to my benefit for my plans.”

You looked down to the floor deep in thought with that. Keeping quiet for a little.

“You don't need that, you have me.”

He stared at you quietly too, you almost didn't notice how his eyes shined a little greener after your words, looking… lively, or honest.

“You'd…move us whenever we needed?”

“Yes, of course,” you exclaimed bubbly.

Everything seemed warmer to you, noticing the Tesseract wasn't going to ruin your plans if you lacked it, your powers are useful enough for that.

He looked at you oddly, then kept walking. Indicating with his hands that you should walk as well, silently not caring anymore if you're first.

“I wish you would tell me who you are. The only thing I can see other than your eyes is the mask.”

“You wish for me to take off the mask?” You smiled sardonically. “Are you this curious?”

“You did call yourself an angel,” he began. Your eyes turned slightly darker at the mention, but you were looking at the floor, you kept smiling under the mask.

“I did, yes. I am one, somehow,” you lied.

You know he can see through your lies, he chose not to comment.

The tunnel was right in front of you two now, you both kept walking. It brought nothing but humid ground with water puddles that kept announcing you in the dark, sometime or another you could hear the small noise of a bug.

Overall, it was quite cold. You thought the cold in the cell had been due to keeping the atmosphere that way, but Loki's presence felt as cold as the air around you, literally.

“Are you cold?” You asked.

“Hm?” He was distracted analyzing his whereabouts. “No, why? Is it cold? I didn't notice.”

You hummed, you were kind of sensitive to the cold so you weren't sure if you were the one on the wrong. Maybe it was just the tunnel.

Either way, you opened your hands spreading all your fingers, absorbing as much warmth as the place could have.

You noticed Loki's fingertips growing immediately the green it gets when he uses his powers, and…oh.

He conjured you a blanket. A dark green one, that looked very soft.

“I'm a gentleman, I can't let you go cold.” he looked at you and waited for you to take it.

Still, you kept your hands growing warmer and warmer, you got both of them together and huddled a tiny speckle of… fire.

You were satisfied with that, but made it a bit bigger. Now you carried a small flame in the air among your fingers, and your entire hands were glowing red. You felt warm enough, the pyrokinesis required the warmth of your entire body.

You didn't notice Loki's admiration right beside you, his eyes sparkling with the movements of your fingers through the air.

“You can control fire? Impressive,” he said in awe.

“It's nothing,” your cheeks felt just as warm as your hands, you supposed you could blame it on the pyrokinesis effect. “You can still give me the blanket, put it around me or something,” you moved your shoulders trying to demonstrate.

So he did, he placed it around your shoulders. It wasn't exactly long, good because it wouldn't touch the dirty ground. Or come close to it.

As you two walked the rest of the tunnel, now feeling less cold than before, a green light flowed by your side again. Loki's hand grew a green light to help us see the dark way in front of us, the fire helped already but it's nice that he thought to add to it.

You just assumed he liked feeling useful as much as you.

Maybe you were a creature cursed to desiring greatness for eternity, however, his powers did draw you to him even further. Your eyes brighten as you look at the green surrounding his fingertips.

He looks at you curiously, eyes changing from his hands to your face back and forth.

Both of you don't say anything.

★

The 'Avengers' as they have recently been named, decided the world was under a giant threat again seeing as Loki had not only escaped but he did so with the help of an unknown person.

This opened possibilities for a thousand different theories. Maybe the God of Mischief had fans, but it'd be really quick enough for them to plan and manage to save him?

Plus, they knew the 'person' was powerful when checking the cameras, seeing the woman appear out of nowhere, and seeing they teleported together. At first they thought Loki was the responsible one for that, but what if he wasn't? It mainly worried them the fact that humans —if it was what saved him— do not simply have superpowers like that.

It became a S.H.I.E.L.D case the second they discovered.

“What if he has more aliens he brainwashed?” Clint asked at the table. “I don't wanna deal with these aliens any more for today, I've had enough.”

“Considering the fact you were just brainwashed by the guy, I can give you that,” Natasha answered, putting a hand on his shoulder. She looked at him more caringly afterwards when the others weren't paying attention to them. Saying quietly: “Are you okay? Don't you think it's better if you rest for now?”

“I'll have enough time to rest after we get that serial killer slash crazy alien back to the cells. Or better yet, out of this planet.” With that, he looked at the other teammates.

Tony was checking the securities and zooming in on the screens, recording to save every detail of the presented outfit, mask, all the angles of this person, anything he could get.

Thor was relentless, demanding to know any information the humans could grant him with. He didn't understand how it wasn't quicker to locate him.

For him it seemed more like a family missing thing than a mass murderer villain missing, they guessed that after all, Loki was still his brother and Thor still had such a big heart.

“If this being is more powerful than my brother is, I don't think we'll find them in these…” Thor turned and gesticulated to the cameras Stark was studying the scenes from. “What are these again?” He mumbled in a hurry, just wanting to get his point across.

“Cameras.” Steve replied.

“Cameras! Of course,” Thor said again making a dramatic case with his booming voice, “I need to check in Asgard to see if he's not there, maybe the Asgardians even know something…I don't know, I'm not sure.” He kept looking around nervously, and picking on his hands as he spoke.

“Thor, relax. We're going to find him, it's our main mission to get a hold of this freak.” Bruce replied now. “If there's one thing about our group of very strange individuals is that we don't like to fail, we're too arrogant for that.”

“Speak for yourself, I'm far from arrogant.” Tony replied clicking on another screen and bringing it closer to him, the technology making the images clearer.

Steve tries to hide a snort, and Natasha can't help but actually laugh. “Come on now, it's not time for jokes.”

“Yeah, don't make us laugh,” she says.

“Is this amusing to you, Steve?” Tony said. Looking away from the screen. “If you think I'm too arrogant-”

“I have no time for this.” Thor turned around, picking Mjolnir with extreme ease and turning it in the air. “I'll be out for a while. If you find news about my brother don't forget to look up to the sky and scream very loudly the name 'HEIMDALL', please.” He made sure to give a quiet scream to interpretate them screaming to Heimdall.

“And who's that Heimdall guy again?” Clint asked.

“The man that sees it all. The guardian of Asgard. I asked him for news regarding Loki's location, but he seems to find absolutely nothing, it's unbelievable. He said there's strong magic protecting his surroundings, or him in itself.”

“If Loki is on Asgard, make sure to send us a letter or a text message to warn us and proceed be sure to keep him there, forever, no need to bring him back.” Tony said dismissively. “We've got enough trouble as it is.”

“Well, now you're just being rude. I bet Loki didn't mean any real harm with his actions. He wasn't like that before.” Thor replied once again, and then turned to the exit to go outside. “Again, if you find anything of him, make sure to yell to the sky!”

The moment Thor left and they saw the rainbow appear through the window and make quite a loud opening, Natasha looked at them and said:

“So who's going to be the one to take the role of insane and yell at the sky?” She asked with a smile.

“Hopefully no one, his brother might be having a blast with Asgardians chicks in a pool, if they have those there. And everything will go back to normal, we'll have no need to worry,” Tony said.

“Just because that's what you'd been doing if you escaped prison doesn't mean that that's what Loki's doing right now.” Steve argued.

“Who let the popsicle speak again? I don't know about you, but other people are familiar with the concept of having sex-”

“Is this conversation really necessary, Tony?” Steve argued back.

“Well, hopefully Tony's right about not needing to worry and-”

Mary Hill entered the room before Bruce could finish the sentence, “Am I interrupting? I apologize, I hate to be the bringer of bad news…actually, no, I'm alright with that.” She said menancingly. After that, she put a laptop on the table they were meeting at.

Also, putting next to it a bunch of information resources, such as multiple other tablets and laptops containing images that are some blurry and others in perfect quality. One of them even contained an image of a woman, seemingly an ID, but they weren't sure.

“Fury was in contact with other agents that could know anything about the characteristics the unknown person had. They studied the height, the weight, the length of their hair, and other things. We tried to study the precise gender this person has but aren't so sure, so we call it Being, they weren't even sure it's human. Still, they checked the powers, the speed in which the glass was broken, everything they could through the images. Changed the angles and studied for news about it, checking specifically also the mask she wore.”

While she narrated every step of the professionals she opened one of the screens and displayed it to another device to share Fury's screen. That's when he began to talk to them, to tell the story through his side as well.

“The creature, we were looking first for witches or any enhanced human beings such as other possible soldiers like Rogers. We were both relieved and worried to see it wasn't the case, our work couldn't be granted with much, but what we found of it should be enough for now to know what we're working with.”

Hill presented a specific image on screen, one that seemed like the one on the ID, the 'woman' had her eyes wide open seeing as she had to look directly at the camera for the important exam.

The image was black and white, of course. But she had her eyes completely empty, the document was inked with white the part where her eyes should be.

“They checked for occurrences and similar characteristics on other people surrounding the same places. What we found complicated is that the situations in which people disappeared like that and appeared out of nowhere were brought up by different people in different parts of the world.” The images kept moving to present women, men and children, not much, probably just up to eight identities that they could collect from around the whole world. “But what's most interesting is that, none of these people actually exist.”

Fury stated and caused the silence of the room to grow instantly tense. They immediately found that frightening.

“Has Loki really been planning the attack on New York for that long? This must be related to him somehow. When, how-” Clint began and was interrupted by Fury again.

“These people would appear on a certain day and disappear at any moment. It was uncertain, it has no pattern, we're in doubt of our process because we can't seem to be sure just one person could be responsible for this. And we're unsure of Loki's relation to this being, at least any relation before today.”

The pictures presented could vary from news where there would be people morphing out of shadows or coming out of something slimy to become human. They weren't sure these things were related to one another but they carried similarities with the pattern of power presented in the cell earlier.

There were videos of men, women, even animals, morphing into something else. And mainly all of them had to be related to the shadows one time or another, that's all they had, they had to stick to it.

“We believe we're dealing with a shapeshifter, and even worse… We believe it's a demon.”

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki angst #loki fanfic #dom loki #dom!loki #sub loki #dark!reader #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki x female reader #loki #demon!reader

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queerextremity · 7 months

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i think one of the reasons i really like steve is the fact that he contradicts everything that you initially thought should be true about him. I’m not just talking of how i, before watching the cap trilogy, expected him to be some sort of walking toxic masculine propaganda, but he ended up being quite the opposite of that—that's already been discussed many times. i’m talking about all the subtle ways his storyline is written. when you think about it (and that’s probably the reason why steve is a very “safe” male character to me), he kinda goes through a character development that’s archetypically usual for female characters.

trying to fit in within the army, being rejected and mocked because you’re weaker and different, but later proving your strength by staying kind, persistent and clever is a story many old feminist media pieces used. i think of that scene from the first movie when peggy, after steve tells her about his life, says she knows what it’s like to have the doors closed for her. she does point out the reason why so many women are so passionate about steve (and why he’s really popular within the lesbian community, where attraction doesn’t really play a part). and i think it’s just so fundamentally different from the way i expected to read his story—as a typical patriotic male-centered superhero movie—and why it stuck with me when I saw it.

and i know we’re all joking calling bucky a damsel in distress, but when you think about it, he really does fit into the archetype of a superhero love interest. and steve does spend a lot of time trying to save him. and i, the great hater of this trope, find myself loving them tremendously. the thing is that, outside of their relationship, bucky has his own complicated and deep character conflict, and you would care about him no matter how the story handles him. in a world where such superhero love stories usually require the hero to be strong and powerful, and the love interest to be helpless and bleak, we have the cap trilogy. it plays with so many tropes that are so outdated even for superhero cinema that they should get boring, but it makes them interesting, dynamic and complex and refreshing.

that’s where it becomes impossible to ignore the romantic undertones of their story, because a lot of it is just familiar like that. adding that they are much more emotional in their relationship than the bros can handle. so we’re probably stuck with people trying to prove something to themselves by discussing steve’s sexual life in she-hulk, for example. it’s just that our society isn’t ready to accept male characters who are vulnerable and humane to their very core, and that’s another interesting way to look at these movies.

#mcu #steve rogers #julia rambles and screams #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers meta

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doctorofmagic · 1 year

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Final thoughts on a lovely journey

*deep inhale*

Please, come inside and sit with me for a moment while we discuss this final issue.

In all my years as a Stephen stan, I’ve never felt this happy to see HIM happy, cared for, surrounded by such meaningful and deep love. I had many beautiful moments so far *coughcough hellfire gala/savage avengers* but this one means the world to me, mostly because he’s reunited with the love of his life.

Love has always been the fundamental force that drives his very existence. He has never healed from the guilt and sadness for watching Clea leave. He couldn’t forgive himself and fell into self-destructive behavior, which later worsened and culminated in depression in the shape of Mr. Misery.

Stephen hasn’t been happy in a VERY long time by our standards of time. It was never clear that he and Clea were in good terms after Sorcerer Supreme by the end of the 90′s and Defenders v2/The Order, but he did go through A LOT ever since she left to lead the rebel army. After the conclusion of Sorcerer Supreme, he made a few cameos here and there until he was adopted by Bendis in New Avengers v1 and v2. He was loved by his teammates but he also made tons of mistakes due to his actions in the Illuminati. He could never forgive himself after what he did to the Hulk, and abusing dark magic only made him feel even more miserable, turning his back to Wong and Linda and embracing once and for all his self-destructive instincts in order to atone for his sins and mistakes.

Hickman’s New Avengers and Secret Wars were no different. They were a downhill towards his own perdition and posterior tragic death by the hands of one flawed man he loved to a fault.

And then v4 happened, the lowest Stephen has ever faced. Alone, fighting himself to preserve a friendship and struggling with his own flaws: his need to be in control, his insecurity, his white and half lies. He was NOT in a good place.

V5 was an exception because, well, not a good portrayal, let alone when it comes to continuity, although he did severe his relationship with Clea.

And then Jed had all the diligence to fix pretty much 30 years of pain, loneliness and Stephen’s inaptitude to be open about his feelings. In fact, Jed is more than willing to work hard and deep into Clea and Stephen’s marriage, and that’s the most important part of this last issue in my opinion.

Because, you see, it’s not the first time they merged and became one. There was one time when Dormammu and Umar forced them and it was pretty much a nightmare. But aside from that, it has always been consented by bonding their souls (with tons of implied sexual semantics, of course). Still, the point is, they deal with magic. I always mention that the magic community is deeper than any other bond in the Marvel universe, mostly because they tap into the spirit and essence of things. So love here... Sure, it’s demanding and takes lots of work, conversation, understanding, patience. On the other hand, when it comes to magic... It’s hard to explain but it’s pretty much how I personally feel about love. It goes beyond the limitations of the physical instance. It connects you to other person in such overwhelming levels of intimacy and trust. It’s not something that should be taken lightly because it goes DEEP.

And that’s precisely what Clea and Stephen’s relationship is all about. Jed, Ferreira, Poggi, Tartaglia, Petit and Garbett did a wonderful job in portraying the depth of this feeling. And it’s just so amazingly done that even when they merge in the being called Strange, they're not 100% on the same page. And this is literally what a deep and meaningful relationship represents. You’re not one with your S/O. You’re your own person. Your relationship creates a strong bond, but you and your partner(s) will disagree on many issues. You will have to find the balance between your needs and the sacrifices you’ll do along the way. Then again, it’s not just about romance. It’s a never-ending mutual journey of growth.

In short? Stephen and Clea are one, but also different in their own uniqueness. And they’ll have tons of work ahead to find said balance. Which is amazing because you don’t see this kind of approach in comic books very often. It’s mature and it reflects how far they’ve come together.

Strange actually reminds me of Garnet and Rupphire, and all the lessons we learned by watching their journey. Steven says Garnet makes it look so easy, to be in a stable relationship. But only Ruby and Sapphire know the ups and downs of their shared lives. And the struggles can only be overcome through kindness, acceptance, conversation, trust, and so many other details that come along with love.

It’s not supposed to be easy, but it IS rewarding. It IS special. It’s fuel to the soul and dew to the world.

Those were humble words to show my gratitude. It’s not just a reunion, but it’s healthy, mature and deeply meaningful. And it really means the world to me that Stephen is happy. It really does. So thank you. A thousand times thank you.

FIN

#doctor strange #stephen strange #clea strange #wednesday tomes #wednesday spoilers #review #marvel comics #jed mackay #marcelo ferreira #roberto poggi #java tartaglia #vc's cory petit #lee garbett #spouses supreme #<<<< btw this is how jed called them and i'm adopting as the official ship name #later on this matter bc there's more content ahead

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jor-elthatendswell · 7 months

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It's a well worn topic at this point but the imminent release of The Marvels has me thinking about how militaristic the Marvel Cinematic Universe is, with Monica Rambeau aka Photon, a habour patrol member in the comics, reimagined as a captain in the US Air Force.

She follows Hawkeye, who was changed from an argumentative former circus performer with a heart of gold (a character so staunchly against lethal force he once revoked his own wife's Avengers membership because she sort of, maybe, subconsciously allowed a villain to fall to his death) into a hard-nosed black ops assassin.

Sam Wilson/ Falcon made his celluloid debut as an army man with twin submachine guns attached to his wrists. It’s a far cry from his print counterpart’s introduction as a social worker by day who uses his skill at falconry to protect his neighbourhood.

If we allow the argument that modern cinema goers are accustomed to a sprinkling of realism to make their superheroes palatable (and it’s a strange argument really- why should realism be a desirable quality in summer blockbuster escapism?) then what actually constitutes “realism”.

Sure, a man who learnt uncanny skill with a bow and arrow growing up with a travelling show couldn’t possibly hold his own alongside Hulk or Thor in the real world (and, yes, there isn’t a Hulk or Thor in the real world; as I say, this is a strange argument), but if he learned those exact same skills in some kind of military context then that somehow passes the bar for realism? The sinister upshot is that these children’s heroes become more warlike just as, globally, they reach more children than ever before.

Increasing the realism of superhero stories only serves to make them problematic. DC Comics' Batman, who is the frequently subjected to “realistic” treatments, is the prime example. If, in real life, a billionaire tooled himself up with the best weapons and body armour money can buy and began dispensing violent “justice” with no accountability, then of course that wouldn’t be a good thing. If they wore a costume with pointy ears and started calling themselves “Batman” then of course we would question their sanity. But Batman isn’t real; it’s a story. Nobody thinks The Muppet Show advocates animal cruelty. Quite the opposite, if anything. ("Not unless they're watching it", as Waldolf once heckled) Yet if a filmmaker decides they’re going to make a “grounded and realistic” remake where Fozzy is played by a real live bear wearing a pork pie hat and spotty necktie, then that's a whole other story. Suspend your disbelief and superheroes are less like the police or army and more akin to volunteers and activists, doing what they can with what they have to improve the lives of those around them. Their actions take the form of crime fighting only because that’s what makes for exciting colourful adventure stories for children.

In the MCU, even Marvel’s poster boy, Spider-Man (another champion of non-lethal solutions, known for his compassion even to his enemies and who possesses an enduring appeal to young children) is given a literal sheen of the military-industrial complex in the form of “Stark Tech” armour, replete with military grade strike drones. Tony Stark even thought to equip his 15 year old protégé-cum-child soldier with an “Instant Kill Mode”. In a moment played for laughs in Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man rejects his on-board AI's attempt to activate this feature but seems untroubled that such an option exists and, indeed, come Avengers: Infinity War, he voluntarily deploys it. It’s not clear if Spidey actually does kill any of his alien adversaries, but it seems reasonable to assume that one doesn’t say “Activate Instant Kill Mode” without the intention of ending lives. Fans are expected to smile or applaud as Spider-Man says these words, recognising the call-back to Homecoming, rather than find it a gross misrepresentation of Marvel’s most beloved character or an alarming depiction of a children’s favourite.

The MCU Avengers as a whole are a US government “initiative “. The reluctant superheroes need to be cajoled into putting their differences aside for the greater good by army top brass Nick Fury. In a tweak from the source material, the ‘H' in Fury's organisation, SHIELD, stands for ‘Homeland’, making SHIELD as explicitly American venture as opposed to it being ostensibly intergovernmental in the comics.

There is a comic book precedent for this military take on Earth's Mightiest Heroes in the form of The Ultimates, a 2002 series by the British team of writer Mark Millar and artist Bryan Hitch. The Ultimates ,however, was satire. Millar was an unreformed lefty of the old school – someone who has boasted of voting Brexit for left-wing reasons, someone who once appeared on Russia Today as a guest of George Galloway. The Ultimates took swings at the gung ho jingoism of post 9/11 America. Captain America's “Surrender!!?? You think this letter on my head stands for France?“ is not supposed to be a badass one-liner, but rather a parody of the kind of things US media outlets were saying as Jacques Chirac proved less keen than Tony Blair to follow George Bush in bringing gunboat diplomacy to the Middle East. As Millar commentated at the time:

“The Ultimates is completely different because it's a character-driven piece and (something only a few people have noticed) my attempt as a left-wing writer to tell stories about an essentially right-wing concept and cast. It's very much the Anti-Authority, if you will. Captain America and so on are fully-paid members of the US military machine and this means a very different book and approach from a gang of slightly arrogrant, left-wing, superhuman utopians like The Authority ".

Wildstorm Comics' The Authority, which both Millar and Hitch worked on (although not together), was a precursor to Ultimates, featuring a team of similarly “any means necessary” heroes, albeit with a left-wing bent. The Ultimates does have something of The Authority’s utopian streak; Nick Fury and Tony Stark genuinely want to make the world a better place for everyone. It’s very idealistic – what if the head of the military and the biggest tech billionaire actually had the people’s best interests at heart? – and arguably closer to true superhero ethos (basically “with great power there must also come great responsibility “) than those characters more pragmatic MCU equivalents.

Yet, as Millar's one time writing partner Grant Morrison (who actually ghost-wrote at least one issue of The Authority under Miller’s name) observed in Morrison’s major nonfiction work, Supergods, the likes of The Authority, The Ultimates and, by extension, the MCU represent a “capitulation” to the view “that it was really only force and violence that got things done and not patient diplomacy, and that only soldiers and very rich people had the world figured out”. If the MCU is realistic, then it’s a sad indictment of the real world where the heroes are the ones with the best tech, the best guns and no compunction about using them.

Regardless of intent, The Ultimates left a door at Marvel’s “House of Ideas” just enough ajar to allow a malign notion to creep in: “These soldier superheroes are pretty cool. What If they were like that all the time? Wouldn’t they be more popular then”?

Certainly the navy SEAL aesthetic Bryan Hitch brought to the costumes (replacing the colourful tights and capes with pouches, straps and body armour) was soon adopted by superhero tv and film productions even pre-MCU. In fact, Hawkeye's journey from carny to commando mirrors the changes in superhero attire. Most famously, Superman's appearance with the red “overpants” derives from that of circus strongmen, but seeing any photography of early to mid 20th century carnival and circus performers makes it clear the early superhero creators had them in mind when they first put pencil to paper.

In an interview (found in Marvel Spotlight: Captain America, published in 2009) Hitch related how he showed an initial Ultimates drawing of Captain America with a machine gun to Grant Morrison, which Morrison then “described as the most obscene Captain America image [they’d] ever seen”. (NB: Morrison has since adopted gender neutral pronouns). Perhaps Morrison said this with glee, in on the joke with their friends, but in the years since, Cap with a gun became a common sight, even in family-friendly movies (where it was divorced from the irony of The Ultimates).

By a 2015 interview, Morrison lamented the fact that “the Avengers work for the government, and it's been like that since Mark [Millar] did The Ultimates” and said they were “bored with the idea that the best superheroes can represent is some aggressive version of the military. [...] They're supposed to be champions of the oppressed, they help ordinary people, they make things better for people. They don't prop up our grotesque, doddering culture of war and aggression”.

That same year Morrison introduced a new comic book superteam in the pages of The Multiversity. Pointedly the text likens this group, named “Justice Incarnate”, to a “cosmic neighbourhood watch” rather than any formal military or law-enforcement institution.

Millar himself reunited with his Authority collaborator Frank Quitely to create the comic Jupiter’s Legacy, which comes across in part as an apology for The Ultimates and all it begat. It concludes with the protagonists, Chloe Sampson and Eddie "Hutch" Hutchence taking up superhero mantles and promising not to make the moral compromises of their predecessors:

“No more bowing to authority and insitutions. No more deference to people in power”.

“There's a dignity in public service we mistook for old-fashioned, and a humility in having a secret identity, living among the people we protect.“

The Avengers, Marvel’s breakthrough billion dollar box office 2012 movie, by contrast, concludes with Iron Man dropping a nuclear bomb on the “Chitari”, an invading alien army and it seems likely this influenced Morrison’s comments on modern superhero stories.

In Supergods, Morrison

describes their childhood dread of nuclear weapons. The child of “ban the bomb” activists, the “gruesome hand-drawn images of how the world might look after a spirited thermonuclear missile exchange” which illustrated their parents anti-nuclear literature struck terror into the young Morrison. Therefore they seized upon superheroes as being an idea powerful enough to counteract – and overcome – the idea of the bomb.

“It’s not that I needed Superman to be “real,” I just needed him to be more real than the Idea of the Bomb that ravaged my dreams”.

Within the narrative of the movie, Iron Man takes the only option available to him to save New York. Destroying thousands of alien lives to save thousands of human ones. But The Avengers isn’t a documentary; the scriptwriters could have written a satisfying denouement which didn’t involve mass murder. They could at least have included some words of regret by the heroes over what it took to win, acknowledging that killing is not the ideal solution. Instead the Avengers trade banter and eat shawarma, collective conscious clear.

There is a moment in another Grant Morrison work, Final Crisis, which always brings the MCU to mind. In Final Crisis #3, drawn by JG Jones, (published in 2008, the same year the MCU began) “evil gods” from a higher plain of existence have been reincarnated on Earth. In order for the Justice League to counter this threat, a “draft for Superheroes” is implemented. Green Arrow (a Batman-a-like character who was subsequently reinvented to embody the countercultural sentiment of the late 1960s and has since served as the social conscious of the superhero set) responds to receiving his draft notice thusly:

“If anybody falls for this authoritarian, militaristic crap, it’ll prove I’m absolutely right about absolutely everything!... “

Cue the next page, where the drafted heroes have gathered en mass (including Green Arrow, impotently shaking his fist.)

Such an assemblage of characters in usually a triumphant moment in a summer "event" story, but here is framed as a sign that evil already has it’s hooks into reality. This world has fallen to the darkness and the superheroes who inhabit it are too morally compromised to realise it.

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