lokisknife

[lokisknife]

plz someone give me a prompt, i have so many headcanons but i don't know where to start!!!

am i crazy for wanting to write a severus x reader x james (poly!)????? am i??????

[lokisknife]

am i crazy for wanting to write a severus x reader x james (poly!)????? am i??????

[lokisknife]

Golden Girl - John Price

Summary: In a London club alive with the victory celebrations of Task Force 141, Captain Price just wants a night free from formality and the weight of war. But amidst the revelry, a new kind of tension emerges as his attention fixates on his newest sniper, Y/N, his "Golden Girl". Battling thoughts he knows are inappropriate due to his age and rank, Price finds himself drawn to her in a way that defies duty. pulling towards something undeniably "risky. And wrong. And so, so tempting".

Warnings: not sticking to the canon; age difference (do I really have to say everyone is an adult here? we're talking about the military, helloooo); heavy drinking; implied size kink; implied corruption kink (just a little bit!).

Word count: 2.3k~ish

Author's note: ok, this has been sitting on my drafts for quite literally more than a year. this month sucked, my pet died, high stress at the job, high stress at uni and I've been hospitalized with a kidney infection (plz drink water and pee after sex. i beg you). I'm too scared of writing actual smut, and I wanted to post this finally, so... sorry if this is too short. I don't think anyone is going to read this lol is cod hype even a thing anymore?

It’s a typical Friday night in London. To the civilians, at least. The club is buzzing with life, with groups of all sizes chatting and laughing, drinks being spilled by drunk people on the dance floor while the colored lights keep flickering. Red, blue, red, blue, purple. The unusual thing about tonight is that the club is packed with soldiers —they aren’t spotted by their uniform, no, they are all dressed to the occasion, thank you very much. But they are spotted, instead, by their demeanor: loud, expansive, with a certain arrogance to know that they can celebrate as hard as they want because they deserve it. Their drunken grins showed a type of euphoria you could only feel if you had just won the war. And that is precisely what happened.

The infamous Task Force 141, with the help of Los Vaqueros and the Shadow Company, spent thirteen months of non-stop hard work completely annihilating a major terrorist group that presented an international threat. Unfortunately, as part of the job, the soldiers' stress levels only grew in proportion to the way the dangerous organization crumbled to ashes: all of them, by some months of work, presented stiff muscles, dark underbags, and snappy responses. And Captain Price was a traditional man: was there a way of de-stressing better than drinking your body weight in alcohol and shit-talking with your friends? He didn’t think so. His boys deserved a little fun; they did an excellent job under his command. So, order everything you want on his tab.

And there she was, the Captain’s Golden Girl, basking in the energetic booming music that made the concrete floors shake. Being the newest one on the team, she earned the nickname from her teammates, who always found a way to tease her about the non-subtle preference of the older man for his newest sniper. Innocently, Y/N thought it was a consequence of her professionalism: she was reliable and precise, always following her superior’s orders without any hesitation, and her accuracy with her rifle was impressive. She was very proud of it, always biting back a grin when the Brit called her “my golden girl”, so, of course, her friends wouldn’t dare burst her bubble. After years under his wing, they knew the bastard too damn well to know that his acts of endearment to the rookie were very far off from the paternalistic proudness Price felt towards the rest of the Task Force. Especially when his drunken state can’t take his eyes off her, sitting so pretty on the other side of the table. 

“We’re off duty, so we better act like we’re off duty” was Price’s motto for the night. After the stresses of the battlefield, he only longed for a night out with his friends, and not an awkward happy hour with coworkers. So, not only was it mandatory to boast all you want, it was essential to leave all the formalities back at the compound: for tonight, at least, there were no ranks, no dog tags, and no uniforms. Wanting to impress someone (even though he said to himself that he shouldn’t), he dressed nicely: before stepping out, he spent an embarrassingly long time perfecting his beard and applying cologne, kicking himself for caring too much. He really shouldn’t; it’s not right.

Staring at the girl in front of him, taking in her mini-skirt and the top that enhanced every single one of her curves, he forced himself to think about how he was too old for her, and not how the clothing would look scattered on his floor. Analyzing the way she did her make-up to perfection, he repeated “I’m her boss” like a mantra, instead of focusing on how incredibly plush her lips look with that shiny lip gloss.

Price is pulled out of his thoughts as shot glasses are slammed down on the hardwood table, followed by the sound of tipsy giggles. As Soap pulled a disgusted face at the burning taste of the tequila, Y/N wiped her chin from any remnants of spilled alcohol. Unaware of the glances coming from the other side of the table, she watched the banter that was initiated between the Scotsman and Alejandro at her side. 

The Captain shouldn’t be so enticed by his snipper, and God, he tried to convince himself he didn’t feel a thing. She is pretty, he has eyes, and he is lonely, simple as that. But he couldn’t attribute the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach to all the whiskey he had downed, not when it only started when he paid attention to the scene in front of his eyes. He felt like a possessive dog, watching her laugh loudly at one of the Soap’s jokes, and the sweet cadence of the sound reached his ears above the music he didn’t recognize. MacTavish was a funny guy, Price gets it. He would laugh just as loud at the humorous remark if he weren’t so stuck in his head. His fingers turned white as he gripped his cup, gulping his drink away. He should be the one sitting so close to Y/N, making her laugh so hard her eyes crinkle. Not Soap. Not anyone else. She is his golden girl, what the fuck do they know about her?

“I’ll be heading towards the bar, have another round” Price spoke up, almost mumbling to himself.

He needed another one, that’s for sure. Whatever it takes to endure the sight of her flirting with other men. But was she actually flirting, or was his mind playing tricks? Could he know that with one hundred percent certainty?

The only thing clear in his wounded heart is that he ached for her attention. It was clear from day one when his golden girl skipped into his office lighting the dark space with her bright smile. Taking notice of her joyful personality, he remembers he thought how the job would ruin her. He was wrong: she ruined him. He turned soft; he was a 37-year-old man who blushed like a teenager whenever he made an excuse to talk to Y/N. It was embarrassing.

The loud music and the intoxicated state of his mind didn't allow Price's well-trained ears to catch the following footsteps, trailing behind in the direction of the bar. Sitting on the wonky bar stool, kicking at himself for letting inappropriate feelings ruin the night, his breath hitched when he finally noticed her small figure at his side. Y/N's hand, much smaller than his, gently grazed his biceps to catch the Captain's attention. Looking up at him with pupils so dilated he could barely see the color of the irises, she smiled innocently. What he wouldn't give to ruin that pure, sinless expression...

"Just checking up on ya. You are oddly quiet, are you okay?”. Her grin was like that of a Cheshire cat under the flickering lights. The snipper kept her palm on his tense muscles for three, four, five seconds before resting it under the chin. It was enough time to make his body feel like it had been electrified, and his heart was hammering so loudly you could hear it above the music. She had to know his effects on him; it could only be on purpose. It couldn't be just a simple, thoughtless act.

"I'm fine. My mind is just... on other things." He trails off, gulping as her skirt rolls up to reveal more of her legs as she sits at his side. It moved barely an inch, but the sight of her glistening thighs was like a full meal to the starved man John Price was. Especially when his thoughts started to become more and more unfiltered with each drink.

"Thinking about what?" Y/N urges innocently, tilting her head to the side and unconsciously exposing some of her neck. The soldier looked genuinely concerned about his mental state, but her captain could only think about covering the smooth, delicate skin with hickeys until the whole team recognized his ownership.

Price shakes his head slightly, trying to drown these thoughts. He felt dirty. And drunk.

"I shouldn't be thinking about you this way..." he snickers, turning his head to the front and drinking some sips of whisky. It's almost as if he didn't notice it was said out loud.

"This way?" She arches a brow, tilting her head again. Again, with those adorable puppy eyes, with that sweet perfume that urged the man to bend her over that very same pub counter, and– And then she leans closer, apparently to hear him better. An innocent act, as innocent as her, he tries to convince himself. "What way?"

No, she must know her effects on him. His mind is taken over by images of how Y/N would look with her eyes rolled all the way back while he pounded relentlessly into her. His body feels mostly numb, as if all of his blood went straight to his crotch. Trying to look away and calm down, he catches her gaze sparkling with mischief, bottom lip caught between teeth.

Shit.

"You know what that way means" Price's eyes trailed down, meeting her cleavage with dilated pupils. It almost made him uncomfortable, the situation looking too good to be true. A beautiful piece of forbidden fruit, taunting him to make a foolish mistake. She couldn't be possibly offering herself on a silver platter like this, not to him of all people. He blurts out, before gulping another sip of the glass "You are too young for me. And I'm still your commanding officer".

"What? I didn't say anything, Captain," She purrs, feigning the purity of her intentions once again. Smiling, she snakes her hand down to his, gently pulling him out of the stool. "C'mon, Price. We are off duty, so we better act like we're off duty, right? Give me a dance".

John could stop Y/N if he really wanted, but he let himself get led to the crowded dance floor, holding her soft hands in his rough ones. He wasn't a religious man, not at all, especially after all the horrors he saw in his line of work. But right now, he makes a mental note to thank God later as the DJ stops playing the hyper techno music he didn't like to give place instead to a slow, 90's R&B, he could recognize the low bass anywhere. The Captain watched with glee as his favorite girl closed her eyes and smiled widely as she sang along to his favorite lyrics. Five minutes ago, he would have told you a whole different answer to what his favorite music is, but the sight in front of him changed everything.

The brief wholesomeness of the moment quickly shifted as Y/N placed her hands on his broad shoulders, swaying her hips easily to the bass of the music, smiling up at him. Now, John recognizes it under the bright red lights: her smile is far from sweet and innocent, but tempting like the devil up on your shoulder that whispers the sweetest and wicked ideas in your ears. With that mischievous sparkle in her eyes, what was the point of fighting?

He was off duty. For one night, he wasn't anybody's boss.

So fuck it. Right?

Price can't bite back the lustful smirk stretching his lips as he finally grabs Y/N's hips and pulls her closer the moment she turns her back on him. The act doesn't scare her at all like she acted in Price's most lucid daydreams. No, in fact, the woman pushes her dancing hips against his, looking up at his icy eyes above her uncovered shoulder.

"Took you long enough" Y/N teased over the loud music, running a rosy tongue tip over the bottom lip. One hand traveled to rest on top of the one that gripped with strength the skirt's waistband, while the other moved back to his broad shoulders, incredibly tense to someone at the club. Price chuckled, not believing his ears.

"Took me long enough? Don't you know I work above you, you little rascal?" The captain teased right back, tilting his head down to speak right into her ear, the feel of his beard tickling the sensitive skin enough to give goosebumps, even with the heat of the night.

"Ah, c'mon, Price. I've seen you. How you look at me, always pairing us both together on missions, even if Gaz would be way more useful to you most of the time" She laughed, almost quietly, the mischievous smile plastered on that cute little face of hers. Following the music with a slow, calculated swing of hips against his crotch, she added. "I think you want to be above me in other ways, am I wrong?"

Goddammit, that was risky. And wrong. And so, so tempting.

Price sighed, his tongue pressing on the side of his cheek, looking baffled with himself. Accessing what was left of the captain inside of him, in this inebriated state, the Brit scanned the room, searching for any pair of familiar eyes on him, but instead, found his table full-on bantering about football or something that looked completely stupid and meaningless right now. This, and the crack of light coming from the back door of the club, leading to an alley that hardly gets any attention this time of night.

"What a witty little thing," John whispered in Y/S's ear, hot alcoholically breath fanning over her skin. One large hand rested beautifully on her waist, pressed back, forcing her to feel how hot his body was burning, how tight his denim probably felt now at this state. How desperate, how much he fantasized about something like this happening to him. "So clever... Let me see how sharp that tongue really is, hm?"

[lokisknife]

Added some more characters 👀

《Characters I write for》

Ps.: I'm taking requests!

☆MCU:

Steve Rogers;

Tony Stark;

Bruce Banner;

Thor Odinson;

Loki Odinson;

Bucky Barnes;

Peter Parker (Tom Holland!);

Wanda Maximoff.

☆DC:

Bruce Wayne.

Barry Allen.

☆Call of Duty:

Simon "Ghost" Riley;

König;

Captain John Price;

Alejandro Vargas.

☆Harry Potter:

Sirius Black (Marauders era);

James Potter (Marauders era);

Remus Lupin (Marauders era);

Lily Evans (Marauders era);

Severus Snape (Maraudera era).

Cedric Diggory.

☆That 70's show:

Eric Forman;

Jackie Burkhart.

☆Friends:

Chandler Bing;

Joey Tribbiani;

Rachel Green.

☆Gilmore Girls

• Rory Gilmore.

[lokisknife]

Some people on ao3 asked me about a part two, what do you guys think 🧐🧐🧐

Hey! ~ I wanted to request a soul mate au with Peter , tony stark and loki , could it also be a male reader if you don't mind! Thank you~

¶The moment I knew / Tony Stark.

Summary: Y/N always kept their real name and their soulmate tattoo a secret, but when the paparazzi catch a glimpse of Tony's wrist, the insecure special agent suddenly has a lot of explaining to do.

Word count: 2.8+k (it's a chunky boy).

Warnings: fluff, angst, soulmate au, bad grammar maybe?, no proof reading bcs we die like men.

Autor's note: Hiii this turned out longer than I expected SO I will be uploading Peter's and Loki's parts separately, also I wrote using genderneutral!reader to make it moreee accessible to everyone, hope u don't mind. English isn't my first language so if you notice some mistakes please please please tell me. hope u like it~

Y/F/N: Your fake name.

Y/L/N: Your last name.

Gif's not mine.

There’s an Anthony tattoo on Y/N’s left wrist, six Anthonys in their contact list, and 1.218.094 Anthonys in the United States: Y/N knows these facts off the top of their head and already calculated the probability of meeting their special person, coming to a quick realization that the best would be let the fate do its thing. Everyone and their mothers heard stories about people who have gone crazy in a maniac quest looking for their meant-to-be and Y/N decided they weren't going to be another number for the statistics.

As hard as it was, the special agent concentrated on their profession and made their life purpose to be the best, the smartest, and to make the world a decent place. Natasha always said that Y/N would be a great addition to the avenger's team but they always dismissed the underlying proposal in the redhead’s comments — being in the spotlight, having your face (or the masked version of it) in t-shirts? Sure, it was a very noble occupation but Y/N couldn’t see how being known by the masses could boost their career. Or being known at all, to be fair. The secrecy of being an agent was comfortable to Y/N: living with a fake name, covering up their soulmate tattoo, and only sharing basic personal information with a selective list of close friends represented an ideal type of life. A secure, private, stable —as ironic as it may seem — type of life.

Y/N could hack an entire country's system in a couple of hours, make someone pass out with a simple hit, and fire two guns at the same time, but nothing was harder than ignoring the stupid little imprint in their arm. It was everywhere: films, books, music; hell, every conversation seemed to be centered around “finding your person”. Especially today at the Avenger’s tower, for what It seems from all the whispering and giggling In the halls.

“Hey, wait for me, Speed Racer!”. Daisy, the nurse, jogged behind Y/N in the relatively crowded corridor. “Have you heard? About the news?”.

“What news? That’s why you are all looking like middle schoolers with all the gossiping?” Y/N teased.

“We know who Tony Stark’s soulmate is! Well, not exactly who they are, but their name”. Her eyes were wide with excitement as if she discovered the most well-kept secret on the entire planet, waiting for a reaction from the agent. Frowning a little bit as her expectations were only met with furrowed eyebrows by the other part, Daisy promptly clarified.

Tony Stark was a hero, a billionaire, and one of the most brilliant men alive, but none of these things, sadly, made him immune to paparazzi. Being in contact with - and somewhat close to - important people like the Avengers made Y/N rapidly learn that the media leeches didn't care about privacy, security, or respect. Opposing what others may think, their moral and critical sense wasn't reserved for the (literal) protectors of the Earth.

No, what was gratitude for saving their asses a billion times compared to a mediocre paycheck for spotting Tony in his private time with his wrist uncovered? The nurse kept on talking, but her voice sounded barely above a whisper compared to the agent's racing thoughts, the injustice their friend suffered drowning every word. Y/N sensed that the blonde was in the middle of a sentence when they hurriedly excused themselves to the lab. Proper manners could wait but maybe Stark couldn't.

"Hey Banner, is Tony here?" Y/N questioned with a smile that didn't fulfill the purpose of hiding their worries after knocking on the glass door in an attempt to not scare the doctor.

Bruce greeted Y/N with an expression that they couldn't quite read, almost surprised with their presence in the room as if it wasn't a morning ritual between the trio. He greeted them stammering his words and fidgeting his fingers, looking behind his shoulders uncertain about how to proceed. "Y-Yes, he is here but I... I don't think he wants to see anyone-".

"Y/F/N, I'm in the back. Let them in, Jolly Green". Y/N followed the sound and found its source leaning over projects for a new suit. For the untrained eye, Stark looked the same: cracking jokes, cocky attitude intact. But the agent spent way too much time analyzing every line off his face than is appropriate for a friend to do. His eyes were puffy, wide, and underlined with dark circles; his hair was slightly disheveled, hands shaking most discretely by the excess of caffeine as pointed by the empty coffee bottle on the table.

Tony puffed some air out of frustration as Y/N only shot a pitiful look as he tried to make fun of Bruce's eerie behavior. "So, you know huh?".

"I heard about what happened and went straight to you. I'm so sorry that happened".

Both of them sat there in silence. Y/N knew that Stark wasn't the type to ramble about his feelings freely and he knew that Y/N understood every thought in his mind just by being in the same room. Instead of interrogating the billionaire, they just offered some comfort by placing their hand on his tense shoulders, that relaxed immediately.

"How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about it?". They asked, testing the waters, knowing that Tony tended to explode after bottling all the emotions he felt to maintain his confident persona.

"No, I'm okay, I just-". He sighed loudly in an attempt to ease his stress, running a hand through his hair and unconsciously scooting closer to Y/N who was now sitting on his desk. "You know me, I love being the center of attention. I'm used to being in the headlines but since the day I forgot to use my stupid watch and the paparazzi got a glimpse of my tattoo, I've been going through hell. To be fair, never bothered me that much catching people hitting on me for the wrong reasons".

He made a pause, reached for his phone, and showed his friend all the notifications that covered the screen. "See? This morning I woke up with 500 emails from people claiming they are my soulmate. By this point, I feel like every single person in the world is called Y/N".

Y/N was so focused on listening to Stark that the last piece of information that left his lips felt like a bucket of cold water igniting their whole nervous system alive. Actually, it felt like Tony accidentally threw the iceberg that sank the titanic on their head, by the fact that he kept on talking without realizing the staggering breath of his interlocutor. Y/N felt their tattoo itching below the wristband but resisted the urge.

For the first time, they truly understood what Jane Austen meant by "feeling half agony, half hope". Y/N felt like their soul split in two, imagining a million scenarios at the same time and panicking about 500 thousand of them. Since after the battle of New York, when the new agent ran into the Iron Man at the SHIELD facilities, they hoped and prayed for whoever was listening that the "Anthony" marked on their body belonged to the genius that made their stomach ache after so much laughter.

The meaningful glances, the giggles, the late-night talking, and their fingers brushing when sharing a cup of coffee at breakfast gave Y/N hope for a future in which their tattoo could be shown with pride. But God, it felt stupid to think about prince charming when the prince is worldwide famous and could have everything and everyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers. It felt stupid to think about prince charming when there's no fairytale about them falling in love with their friend or work colleague. So to this moment, Y/N treated all these feelings like this: a stupid crush, material for daydreaming when Tony couldn't see them staring.

But now, seeing all the pain, stress, and anxiety Tony endured because of their real name written on his right wrist, rather than stupid, Y/N felt guilty. Sure, it was part of the job, but making their real name known to their closest friends couldn't be a mistake, right? Or it could if maybe Tony interprets it as Y/n using this turmoil of events to take advantage of him, like all the terrible people on his private messages?

"You know what? I know it's taboo but I'm saying it: I wish soulmates weren't a thing. Like, imagine if you could actually choose who are you spending your life with. Because-". Tony took a breath and shifted closer to Y/N, trying to guess if they could understand his point of view. As they didn't make a comment claiming it was "crazy talk", he continued. "I don't even know a Y/N, okay? Have you heard those stories about people feeling nothing special before they meet their partners? To me, it's utter bullshit!"

Just as Y/N suspected, once Tony started talking he couldn't stop: trading his tiredness and anxiety for a boost of energy fuelled by irritation, he spoke passionately about beliefs that would be quickly shushed in one of his press conferences.

"Those paparazzi took out any freedom that I have to, I don't know, figure out all of this soulmate stuff by myself! I DO think it's kind of dumb, but I actually lost any hope I have because of all those people claiming to be Y/N. Jesus, stopping to think about it, I didn't get any freedom since the start. We can't choose who we REALLY want to be with, it's not free will". He left out a humorless laugh.

Hope pulled Y/N's heartstrings as they stared into dark brown eyes that were so painfully close to their own, trying to listen to Stark logically and not distort his words into a beautiful fantasy. But he was so close, his cologne was so deep and earthy and his hair so beautifully messy that their mouth functioned way faster than their brain:

"What type of person would you choose?". Y/N questioned.

"You".

He grinned and searched for a response, the slightest reaction that showed that his feelings – as outrageous as they may seem, as purposely choosing to ignore his soulmate to be with someone else – were reciprocated. But nothing, nothing Y/N fantasized about before going to bed took a similar direction and their brain's gears couldn't turn on their own out of a sudden. They were a trained agent and rapidness was their trademark, but time now seemed like a construct made up by kids playing as crazy scientists. Nothing and everything felt real at the same time. So they just stood there, mouth agape in the most excruciating silence.

Tony's expression falls as their lack of response sinks in. He takes a step back, running a trembling hand on the back of his neck. "Sorry. I got ahead of myself, I- shit, I read this all wrong. I'm just tired, forget I said anything, it's the stress talking. Don't get all weird on me, please. Not right now".

"Tony, it's not that. It's just...I..I don't know how to explain-". They took a deep breath to put their thoughts in order. "Wait a second".

Y/N turns to the table below them, closing iron man's suit projects on his technological devices to search for the old SHIELD database. They didn't know in which order to explain all of the reasons they didn't confess before or all the things they were feeling inside their chest right now, but the agent was counting on his intelligence and quick logical thinking to put all the pieces together.

"Look Y/F/N, I usually think it's cute when you cut the conversation to show me dumb videos on YouTube but this is not the time. You are usually better at reading the room- Wait, what?". He watched the hologram in the middle of the room, dated a few years before 2012. The document showcased an old photo above every crucial information about them, but one singular line of text jumped in front of Tony's eyes. "Full name: Y/N Y/L/N".

For what felt like the first time in a lifetime, Tony was speechless. No sarcasm, no joking, no cocky attitude. Just his eyes shifting to the light blue hologram and Y/N, who was apprehensively taking off their wristband.

"When Fury took me under his wing, he said that it was more clever to go by a fake name. I couldn't trust anyone, he was the only person I knew, so I took it as gospel". Y/N took a step closer to Tony and showed their wrist while looking deep into their eyes, trying not to tremble so much. "Is it too late now?".

He instinctively grabbed their arm and examined the tattoo, comparing it to his own. Seeing their names on each other bodies side by side made him feel like a teenager opening a valentine's day card left on his locker, butterflies in his stomach and all; but opposing to Y/N moments before, his brain worked fast, very fast. Tony tensed up, and let go of their arm.

"We talk to each other every day. You have my phone number, my email, and my address. You could even drop a letter, for God's sake, so DON'T tell me you didn't have a chance of telling me earlier. Why did you never tell me? Didn't you trust me to know your real name?" He talked loudly, holding back to not shout all the emotions off his chest.

"Of course I trust you, you're my best friend, you know almost everything about me! My real name and the name on my wrist were the only secrets I ever kept from you". Y/N pleaded. "Hey, you can't be angry at me, you never showed your tattoo to me either!".

"You never showed yours! You never even gave me a sign you liked me!"

"I couldn't get my hopes up, why would you want to be with someone like me!?" Y/N cried out, not even realizing what left her lips.

"What? What do you mean?" Tony asked after a pause with a softened voice, while the agent stared back with widened eyes.

"Uh, nothing. Forget I said anything please. I... I will be leaving now". They turned their back in the direction of the door, but Stark's sudden grip prevented them from completing the task.

"Please, explain what you meant".

"C'mon Tony, we are good friends and all, but you have to understand my point of view... Look, everyone loves you, you are ridiculously important, and you are a big superhero. The People magazine listed you as the most wanted bachelor in the country, Jesus". Y/N left out a bitter laugh. "And I'm just me. I'm just someone who literally stumbled into your life, who thinks you are an incredible person and feels way too special just because you consider me your friend. The whole world reminds me every day that you are way too much for me, and I'm way too little for you-".

It's common knowledge that Tony could have terrible manners and loved to interrupt people when they talk, but Y/N was expecting sassy remarks and not Tony's lips on theirs. His hands were placed firmly on the back of their neck and waist as if he was afraid they would run away and Y/N's hands turned into fists holding his Black Sabbath t-shirt, sharing the same fear. Time stopped and the world stopped spinning as the taste of coffee on his lips and the smell of his cologne engulfed all of their senses, letting all worries behind.

"Don't you ever talk smack like this about my soulmate again" Tony joked, brushing their nose playfully with his own when the couple stopped in mutual need of air. Y/N giggled and he smiled back proudly, as he always did when he managed to make them laugh. "I'm flattered that you think all these great things about me, but I'm the lucky one, okay? You have no idea how much you've changed me".

"Tony..."

"I mean it. I was an arrogant, egocentric, anxious mess, and now... I am arrogant and egocentric in a charming way" Stark smiled. "I am less nervous about everything since I started talking to you. To be honest, I'm really relieved that you're my soulmate because I was scared that I couldn't have this type of connection with anyone else, you know that I suck at this emotional shit".

"I'm relieved too. Thank you Tony". He gave a quick peck at Y/N's lips as his response.

"So, I know we're destined to spend our whole lives together and we gotta start somewhere so... Do you want to go on a date with me?".

"Okay, I will pay" Y/N giggled.

[lokisknife]

i know I have been gone forever but i'm thinking about writting some stuff for the COD boys (especially some smut with captain price 😈😈😈), so if anyone have some ideas prompts whatever lmk

[lokisknife]

me with sharon carter......they hate you because you are a woman, i hate you because you are boring

hate when a female character gets a lot of hate but I dont like her either. sorry queen I cant defend you

[lokisknife]

“x reader is so cringe.” to YOU. im reading this shit and having a ball ‼️

[lokisknife]

MASTERLIST

♡: fluff. ☁: angst ✮: one-shot. ☀: fic.

Divider by @silkholland

MCU – Marvel Cinematic Universe

Iron Man//Tony Stark

✮The moment I Knew: Y/N always kept their real name and their soulmate tattoo a secret, but when the paparazzi catch a glimpse of Tony's wrist, the insecure special agent suddenly has a lot of explaining to do. Soulmate AU.♡☁

Loki Odinson

☀ Welcome to New York: Everyone got a red string around their pinky that leads to their soulmate... Well, everyone but Y/N, that got a golden line that goes straight up. Soulmate AU. Chapter 1: Welcome to New York.☁

Liked my writing? Consider donating on Ko-fi!

[lokisknife]

thinking about writing Harvey fanfiction for stardew valley i love him so much my little meow meow

[lokisknife]

Isn't funny when an one-shot accidentally turns into a fic and now you actually have to plan stuff

[lokisknife]

¶Welcome to New York – Loki Odinson

Summary: Everyone got a red string around their pinky that leads to their soulmate... Well, everyone but Y/N, that got a golden line that goes straight up.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: not sticking to cannon; 2012! Loki; cursing; mentions of sickness; me bullying the shit of Loki (I love him that's okay); one sex joke; angst

Author's note: yes I'm naming all of my fanfics after Taylor Swift songs. Yes, I could have named it "invisible string" but it's too obvious. Also the original was just so long (up to 6k words) so I decided to split this in two, so I'm posting it vvvery soon.

Tony's version.

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Gif's not mine.

Since the beginning of human life on Earth, there have been records of the existence of invisible strings (at least to the general population regarding the strings of others) that connect two people that are fated to be together. The Mesopotamians, Ancient Greeks, Egyptians, Romans, and many other folks had countless myths that served the purpose of explaining why that happened: some people said that these so-called soulmates were made of the same clay, the same stardust or maybe they were created as one singular soul that got split in two. The skeptics firmly believed that "soulmate strings" could be collective hallucinations induced by pheromones that persisted since prehistory, but the fact that everyone had a special someone was undeniable.

Whatever the reason, everyone in the whole world that ever existed has or had a red string on their pinky finger that led straight to their soulmate. Still, no religion, philosophy, or science could explain why Y/N was different than anyone else. As a kid, every visit to the doctor's office was accompanied by a complaint about their soulmate string that - quoting by the then 6 years old Y/N - "worked wonkily": they have learned about red strings that lead to your future spouse in school, but their own string was golden and pointed straight up, just like a helium balloon. Uncountable health professionals claimed they have never seen something like that, but it shouldn't be a reason to worry: soulmate's strings have never malfunctioned before, so it wasn't possible. Well, they hoped at least.

Not only the doctors but every person Y/N ever encountered commented on the golden circle around their finger (that being the only visible part of the string by third parties) and close friends even joked about their soulmate being a deity or an alien. Y/N always laughed and was considered to be someone with a good sense of humor regarding their own problems, but the truth is that all the remarks about their condition ached like a stab on a previously infected wound. The whispering and bewildered looks people shared when staring at Y/N's hands were a highly effective reminder of the possibility of a loveless life. Sure, they did not have an entirely loveless life: they had friends, family, hobbies, and many sources of joy. But the love they felt for life when looking at a puppy at a park couldn't compare to dancing in the rain with someone you fancy. The love they felt for life when buying pretty flowers for their nightstand was nothing next to cuddling in bed past noon.

Experts didn't have a clue about what was going on with their soulmate or the lack thereof – or even "Schrodinger's soulmate" as Y/N called it – but they couldn't put a stop to their running thoughts. As they spent their whole life thinking about it, they couldn't help but feel special: every single individual had an "other half" but them. Maybe their string pointing to absolutely fucking nowhere was Universe's way of saying "hey Y/N, you don't deserve love, maybe next time!".

Y/N observed their string that pointed at the sky as they walked to work, imagining how it would be to witness life with someone else's eyes. How does the world present itself with a vibrant red string that resembled a treasure map, in which the X represented the most wonderful feeling a human can feel? The girls that shared candies on a bench, the guy that served their coffee, and the receptionist of the building, all of them had the assurance of following a straight path to their lovers if they wished to. They all knew they could be loved and cherished and kissed on the spots they were most insecure about. They knew the person they were destined to spend their whole life with was safe somewhere. But Y/N knew they could marry the atmosphere, for what was possible.

The newly graduated scientist decided to put a stop to their introspections on frivolous matters like love – of course, this being a total facade they presented to people to seem unbothered by it – and focus on their obligations for the day. After spending years burning every single brain cell on difficult equations and acquiring student debt of the size of the moon, one could imagine that being an astrophysicist would be more glamorous: planetariums, telescopes, discovering new galaxies. Sure, someone who works at a fancy university, NASA, or Stark Industries could have all of that, but not Y/N. Don't get me wrong, Y/N was very grateful for their job, but sometimes they wondered if the right choice was made by trading the big companies of space-related technology to learn with the genius Dr. Erik Selvig.

Working with the Swedish scientist promised never-ending knowledge of Einstein-Rosen bridges and many other wonders of theoretical physics. Still, it said expectations were instead met with long lists of required research on nordic myths. Jane and Darcy already explained in detail all their discoveries of the past year when Thor - yes, the god and Foster's boyfriend, as crazy as it may seem - appeared out of nowhere in New Mexico and changed all humanity's knowledge of the universe forever and of course, as someone new on the field, Y/N found it very exciting. Even as a newbie, they were curious and capable as everyone else on the team, so reading borrowed dusty books about old deities felt like a waste of potential.

They trusted the professor with their life, but since the god of thunder made a special appearance on Earth, he has gone a little bit...lunatic, for a lack of better wording that could sugarcoat the actual state of his mind. Working with him on day to day basis made Y/N feel like a coadjuvant on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: in one second the blonde concentratedly wrote equations of the highest difficulty related to multiverse theories on the whiteboard, and in the other, he was shouting nonsense about Asgard, Midgard and hidden knowledge on the old texts; what bring to Y/N and the infinite paper stack on their table.

Okay, to be fair, Y/N would be lying if they said that they absolutely hated this part of the job, as it was much more entertaining than getting hot-headed over seemingly dead-end physics equations. Reading everything from the genesis of Asgard to its imminent end at Ragnarok and every single character that existed in the between, the scientist couldn't help but choose favorites. Their colleagues, Darcy, Selvig, and mostly Jane drooled when talking about Thor, his magic hammer, and long blonde locks. Even though Y/N could feel he was a nice guy and all, their attention was focused on his younger, quieter brother.

The stories put bad lighting on Loki Odinson, describing him as a mischievous, trickster, egocentric person but the feelings transpassed to them was of so much compassion that their heart must as well explode when reading about him. Yes, he was the God of Mischief and was always creating chaos in his realm, but couldn't you understand his motives? Just imagine how it must felt like growing up in his older brother's shadow, with every single person - including your own father - diminishing his achievements to magnify Thor's popularity even more! Well, everyone's entitled to have an opinion, and Y/N thinks raven hair is nicer than golden and magic is more interesting than muscles. Simple as that.

The scientist's head started to pound heavily, their eyes burning holes inside their skull and their stomach was sick to the point it felt like it was turning somersaults, as it always did when they spent way too much time curled over all the parchment covered-in dust obsessing over Loki - disguised by scientific research, of course. The whole week went like this and Y/N always downed some medicine down their throat and continued to work hard, but the migraines were getting stronger every day. Complaining to themselves about how the ache in their temples made it so hard to focus and form coherent trains of thought, they glanced at the clock on the wall. Only one hour and a half left of the work journey, good enough.

They quickly organized their table and talked to Dr. Erik, who, despite his urgency in advancing the research, was very comprehensive. So, work: check. Next step: finding a pharmacy while trying to not throw up from all the pain. Good thing Y/N lives in New York City and there are stores everywhere you set your sight on...and if they couldn't hold back the vomit, it's not like people are going to judge them so much right? C'mon, it's NY, at least it wasn't going to be that unusual of a thing.

As an astrophysicist and Dr. Erik Selvig's favorite intern to pile work on, they didn't have enough time or money to go to the hospital to get every "stupid symptom" checked. Y/N felt like dying, sure, but you and I know that no matter the illness, they would step out of the doctor's office with a flu diagnosis. So the smartest decision is, obviously, to get medicine for all the wrong stuff going on in their body. Only relaxing from all the rush of trying to not puke, faint, or cry from the headache when handing the cashier their debit card, the sight of their own hand hits them like a brick.

How great is the human mind and all of its levels of complexity, its delicate and intricate gears allowing conscient, external responses to subconscious perceptions. The golden thread, the subject of most of their worries that would otherwise be constant in its position, was leading somewhere out of the door. Their heart dropped, focusing on the inviting leaded path, their queasiness becoming just an annoying thought at the back of their mind. The string changing wasn't even an option for them, that being such an impossible scenario that Y/N didn't ever fantasize about it. They always took for a fact that they didn't have a soulmate, so the line basically pulling them towards someone was absolutely dumbfounding.

Tucking the meds under their arm, they ran after the thread feeling like a kid expecting to meet a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Y/N didn't know what to expect: to be honest, they didn't even know if they weren't hallucinating. Did their soulmate string lag all these years? Was their soulmate an older astronaut, who spent all of Y/n's life in space? Or worse, what if their soulmate were just born and they would have to wait decades to meet them? God, that's so weird, they sure fucking expected that they weren't running after a hospital or something like that. Wait, what if their soulmate was dead and some crazy scientist resurrected them?

Their head, still throbbing from the pain, spun in circles just like their thoughts. What if, what if, what if? Just what ifs, no plans, no logic, no focus. Their head was so full of "what ifs" that were no room for other feelings than concern. Having an abnormal soulmate thread resulted in so much pain their whole life but the worries that came with the scenario of finally having someone were nothing that Y/N ever heard of. The path could be leading to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the creepiest forest to encounter Frankenstein's monster himself, and the only thought crossing their mind would be: does he like me?

Quietly thanking the Universe or whoever was in charge, Y/N sighed in relief when the string pointed to a large crowd on a busy street. It would be awful to find their one when there were dozens of people gathered together, but at least they could be sure that they weren't destined for Michael Myers hiding in the woods. The scientist takes a deep breath in order to calm down their soulmate-induced panic and looks around to form a tactical plan, but instead of locking eyes with a handsome someone, they met terrified looks. No one batted an eye at the astrophysicist, their wide eyes locked on something - or someone - way far ahead of them, their bodies frozen in place, unsure of every movement. New York, the city that never sleeps, whose streets were always booming with movement, fell dead silent. But no, Y/N couldn't call a uber from work and go straight home, they absolutely had to waltz themselves into this mess. Way to go, Y/N, what a great way to read the room.

Even though the little devil at their shoulder begged for them to tiptoe their way out, their feet seemed glued to the floor. They were completely clueless about what was happening and what they could and could not do. C'mon, you're a scientist, you work for one of the smartest men alive, you can work out some solution for this shit. Looking around again, they choose the youngest person in a three-foot circle, praying that this choice reflected a lesser possibility of being ridiculously rude to them - considering that absolutely no one dared utter a word - and nudged at a 17-ish boy's shoulder. Shooting him an apologetic look, Y/N mouthed a "what's happening?".

"I just got here like 10 minutes ago, but at the front is a very creepy weird dude with an even creepier scepter with blue lighting on it and he is shouting at us because he wants to be king or some shit like that. I thought he was just an anime nerd who thinks he is god because he is wearing really weird clothes, but looks like he is using magic to control people? That's all I know". He let it out in only one breath, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so tired of living in New York man, I thought we were done after the Iron Monger/Obadiah Stane mess in 2009. All these weirdos wandering around... If I survive, I'm moving to California".

Y/N answered with a discrete smile. Okay, five minutes ago they were trying to convince themselves that they are smart and capable of making clever decisions but, for the first time in forever, they had hope. What horrible timing to finally meet their soulmate in a hostage situation by a (probably) Reddit user who thinks he is superior because he watched American Psycho a bazillion times and could pull off some magic tricks, and honestly, it's a shame that Y/N didn't give a single fuck to their plans. Their soulmate string was pointing to someone, the weirdo's superiority complex could wait, I guess. Passing through the crowd as they followed the golden path as if they were trying to get the best spot at a Taylor Swift concert at Madison Square Garden, they were increasingly ahead of the crowd. If they did have a soulmate, their soulmate was sure dumb to be that close to the psychopathic geek.

Now, in literally the middle of this mess, Y/N could see the wannabe-villain face and... This is so embarrassing. The teen's description was right but didn't do justice. The man had an unusual style, yes, but in an almost theatrical manner. A golden horned helmet lay on top of his long dark hair and framed his face perfectly, the contrasting colors making the man even paler, contributing to an eerie, power-hungry king look. Even though Y/N never laid eyes on someone like him before, he looked familiar: like an old childhood friend, an actor in a play you once saw, or someone you met in a dream. The type of memory that is stored in the back of your mind you can't quite make it hit the surface. Despite the situation - if you can ignore it - he looked beautiful. His power was mesmerizing and they couldn't look anywhere else. The man didn't sense their stare and continued his speech, which Y/N didn't catch the start of.

"Kneel before me" He shouted, some people in the crowd obeying his command. "Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state?"

The astrophysicist rolled their eyes and stood still on their feet. He was gorgeous, but it's no excuse to kneel... Well, his act was absurd and he didn't pay for dinner beforehand, so at least not tonight. The man up front opened his arms, his big gestures reflecting his big ego.

Y/N felt a slight pull on their string, reminding them that they were there for a reason, they had a purpose to fulfill. They didn't have a clue about how the thread worked, but maybe their soulmate got ahead of them in the crowd and tried to get their attention. Maybe their soulmate wanted Y/N to make the first move, maybe they were in a spot where they couldn't move that much. Jesus, the astrophysicist knew for a fact that purposefully being knee-deep into this shit was a dumb move, but you always could be...dumber, that's the word to describe it. Maybe common sense fell out of their bag at the drug store, being that the last place they have seen it. So, breathing heavily from the anticipation, Y/N squeezed their way closer to the front.

No one in the crowd struggled to maintain them farther away, complying rather quickly with their efforts, keeping their eyes glued to the golden thread afraid if they blinked, it may change again. Searching for their one was the main focus, the only thought on their head, the concentration was so great that Y/N slightly stumbled on their feet when the mass of bodies that prevented them from walking freely disappeared. Nothing obstructed their view, the path was clear. No frightened people, just the granite floor, the man, and the golden string connecting them.

His full image in front of Y/N made everything fall in place, as it is scary as one may think of this situation. A character that fell out of an old book, the raven hair that reflected the light of the buildings around among with his golden horns, the mischief of his eyes, and the scepter holding into what the scientist recognized as the Tesseract not only hinted but confirmed his identity. Loki of Asgard surely wasn't on Earth as part of Odinson's family trip.

They felt stupid. They should have felt this before based on their actions tonight, yes, but they felt stupid. And anxious. And scared, so scared. But, most of all, stupid, because everything seemed so predictable now. Fate, an arch-nemesis, played the game beautifully in leading Y/N in this time and place. Inexplicable hyper fixation on Laufey's son and his story, the pounding head, and the knot on their stomach while even thinking about him this week. Intuition, premonition, gut feeling. The abnormal string was actually pointing to the right place, doing its best to lead to another reality realm. If Y/N's friends had a penny for every time they joked about how one of them was destined to a deity... they would have one penny and a crazy story.

"It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity". Loki didn't seem to notice either the thread or the dumbfounded Y/N.

As soulmate strings, the question "why do humans cry when they feel strong emotions?" has been raised tirelessly from the beginning of time. Even though it's way out of their research field, the subject did also fascinate Y/N, who learned on research that, up to the 1600s, the prevailing theory was that all sentiments heated the heart, consequently generating water vapor that would escape from our eyes. In modern days we know that this belief it's invalid, but they couldn't feel like it didn't have some truth in it. As their eyes watered and their vision became blurry, disappointment, anger, and nonconformity rose in their heart and heated their chest.

On Soulmates 101 you don't really learn what to do in this type of situation. Sure, there are cute stories about soulmates who absolutely hated each other when they met, soulmates who were so different that they both thought that it was a mistake, and so on. But being fated to a God who happens to be enslaving Earth's population as a boost of ego... well, that's a first. Not that Y/N isn't used to having problems about their destiny.

Learning so much about Loki in the past months made them sympathize with him. Understand his motives, understand his personality, and understand his background. Understand, at least to the surface level, who he is. But this is too far. Mischievous tricks and pranks on the Asgardian royal family were a classic move, but this? Plotting a cartoony evil plan to be the king of the world? And all of that on a Friday night when a hot shower and a warm bed are waiting for them back home?

"You were made to be ruled". He went on with his megalomaniacal speech, making a pause and looking around, checking if he got the impact he was waiting for. His vision set a stop on Y/N. Their eyes locked for a beat of time that seemed like an eternity, sharing an unspoken understanding, knowing that wasn't the time or place. His eyes, marked in craziness, soften for a minute. He breathes shakily, fully filling his lungs. As he dry swallows, only the scientist ahead of the crowd gets a glimpse of a frightened, destroyed man. "in the end...you will always...kneel".

Should they do something? Could they do something? But, do what? Was it even logical to scream at the top of their lungs, begging him to stop, like the lame white love interest of an action movie who keeps saying "babe, stop! You're not like this!" in the middle of a fight scene? But who had the power to change his mind if not his soulmate? God, this isn't fair at all. Most people meet their soulmate at 20-something in a coffee shop and spend their whole lives happily together. But here is Y/N, debating internally if they should stop their meant-to-be (whose existence wasn't known up to 40 minutes ago) from being a tyrannical king. Not fair at all.

A sudden loud noise behind their back put a stop to their thoughts, the crowd splitting in half like the red sea in order to let its source walk freely to Loki. Like a god ex machina, red, white, and blue came into their vision: Captain America stood tall and confident, loud footsteps from his heavy boots contrasting with the sepulchral silence. Relief and panic washed over the scientist a the same time, like an electric shock right into their nervous system.

"You know" he annunciated "The last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing".

"The soldier" Loki chuckled, the laugh didn't meet his eyes. Y/N felt like the mass stopped breathing at the same time as an individual living organism. "The man out of time".

"I'm not the one who's out of time".

With that and the aircraft that unexpectedly appeared in the night sky, pointing a machine gun toward Loki, hell breaks loose. The scientist's head spun like it was part of Disney World's Mad Tea Party, the previously quiet and submissive mass of people running around, bumping into their body uncontrollably. Their shoulders ached, but their legs stood glued to the floor like blocks of concrete - Y/N thought they deserved to know what happens to their soulmate after all this time. Police ushered them to run to a safe spot, but their eyes were glued to the fight happening just a few feet away.

Loki shooted a blast of blue lightning from the tesseract at the aircraft, which maneuvered just in time for Captain America to throw his shield at the Asgard prince. Y/N's throat felt tight, wanting to scream "watch out!" but knowing it wasn't the right thing to do. The right thing to do was to run away as soon as the avengers showed up to save the day. The right thing to do was to not follow the golden thread to this mess. The right thing to do was to focus on the job and not spend hours reading about nordic old myths. The right thing to do was to take a better-paying, less interesting workplace. Maybe, the right thing to do was to never leave their bed until soulmates are not real anymore.

The golden thread that linked them together jumped in place with Loki's movements as he battled with Steve Rogers, fists meeting flesh, scepter meeting shield. The metallic sound of the clashing, the grunts, and the screams muffled Y/N's hard breathing, trying to contain their sobs, keeping their tears at bay. The world didn't care about their feelings, didn't care if they would ever get their happily ever after.

Their movements are way too fast and complex for someone out of the fight to comprehend, the violence looking like a choreographed waltz, the sirens sounding like an orchestra. The God of Mischief threw the soldier to the ground, swatting the bright collared shield away. Standing tall over the blonde, he grabbed the scepter tighter, pointing to the sharp end of the blue helmet. Y/N knew Rogers's abilities were extensive and he wasn't a hostage to his gadgets, but it was also part of their knowledge that Loki was a powerful sorcerer. But it was impossible for a newbie astrophysicist to know for a fact who would win in a battle between a deity and an enhanced super-human.

It felt so useless, discussing between doing what is right or doing what feels right when both weren't even an option. They were destined to be together and there was nothing Y/N could do: their presence and the presence of the next person were the same in this situation. The golden line wrapped around their finger stared back at its owner almost in mockery - the couple has never been so close, but the scientist has never been so unhopeful, even when they didn't even know about his existence. They surrendered to the gut-wrenching feeling that rose from the pit of their stomach, spreading like oil on a lake, making everything darker, lifeless, polluted.

The memory of the pull of the string by Loki's gesticulation flashed in Y/N's mind. They had as much understanding on soulmate threads as a kindergarten kid, only knowing the theoric part and having no experience whatsoever, but perhaps, just perhaps, they could do something. Y/N watched attentively, heart in hand. Not what they wanted to do, no, but what they should do. If what they wanted to do was on the table, they would have cried out to the raven-haired man, begging for explanations, the moment they set their eyes on him. But, who cares about what Y/N wanted? They had moral obligations, that sat above everything else.

"Please, let this work" the astrophysicist muttered. They rolled their wrist, grabbing the invisible thread like a rope in a Tug of War game, yanking it down in hopes of controlling the other side's movements like a ventriloquist.

Much to his surprise, Loki's hand falls, the scepter falling on the floor. The Captain didn't demonstrate his confusion at the prince's sudden change of behavior but took advantage of it, getting out of his passive stance and forcing Loki to the ground. Their team got him cornered while a policeman finally lost his patience with Y/N, grabbing them by the waist and forcing them out of the scene. Both were being talked to, but the scientist couldn't discern any words out of the cop's ramble even if their life depended on it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had to. I'm so sorry, I didn't want to" Y/N struggled to get the words out, their throat hurt from the contained sobs from before. Now, they didn't have any reasons — or strength — to fight their emotions. They sobbed like a child, the tears feeling like waterfalls, a powerful unstoppable force of nature. They knew that Loki couldn't hear them, but they hoped he could understand their motives.

His ice-blue eyes stared at Y/N, not showing any emotion. Just a stony, indifferent stare.

[lokisknife]

im having so much trouble writing this loki imagine ughhhh

[lokisknife]

dear person who sent a chandler bing ask..........i love you with my body and soul

[lokisknife]

i am begging you all to stop treating this site like instagram if you dont want it to be content free by next year

[lokisknife]

sorry that I'm taking so long to post, my life has been an absolute mess this past week, I'm almost finished with Loki's soulmate au!! Also thank you so much for 70+ notes on Tony's one shot, I actually wasn't expecting anyone to read that lol

[lokisknife]

I bet he gives very gentle forehead kisses.

Chris Evans as Steve Rogers in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) dir. Joe & Anthony Russo