#natasha romanoff x t'challa

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

[mbruben-stein]

Helloooo, im pretty sure your requests are open right now, so can I request Hc for Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and Steve Rogers (if you want you can also do T'Challa) where they are the Parent figures of the youngest avenger? (if you do T'Challa I'd rather go for a brother figure for him) so just platonic fluff if you do that :33 (Idm if it's Fem or Gender neutral) Also dw if you dont write this, have a great day/night <33

Marvel Avengers characters as Parental Father/Mother/Brother figure to the youngest Avenger of the team.

Tony Stark

Tony may come off as a bit of a playboy and a rebel, but deep down, he has a heart of gold. Especially when it comes to the youngest member of the Avengers, s/o. Tony sees s/o as a protege, someone who can learn from his own experiences and mistakes. He takes s/o under his wing, offering guidance, support, and a shoulder to lean on.

As a father figure, Tony is fiercely protective of s/o, always looking out for their well-being and safety. He imparts valuable life lessons, teaching s/o about responsibility, courage, and the importance of using their powers for good. Tony encourages s/o to embrace their uniqueness and to never be afraid to stand up for what they believe in.

Despite his busy schedule and the demands of being a superhero, Tony always makes time for s/o. He listens to their concerns, offers advice, and shares in their triumphs and struggles. Whether it's helping s/o with their training, building new gadgets together, or simply spending quality time bonding, Tony cherishes every moment he gets to spend with s/o.

Through his actions and words, Tony shows s/o that they are valued, loved, and supported. He may not always express his emotions openly, but his actions speak louder than words. Tony Stark may be a billionaire, a genius, and a superhero, but above all, he is a father figure who will always be there for s/o, no matter what challenges they may face.

Clint Barton

Clint took on the role of a father figure to s/o, the youngest member of the Avengers, with a sense of responsibility and care that mirrored his own role as a father to his children. Despite being a skilled and experienced operative, Barton approached s/o with patience, understanding, and a willingness to guide and mentor them in their journey as a superhero. He shared his knowledge, skills, and experiences with s/o, helping them to navigate the challenges and responsibilities that came with being a member of the Avengers.

Barton's fatherly instincts kicked in as he looked out for s/o's well-being, offering them advice, support, and encouragement when needed. He made sure s/o felt included, valued, and supported within the team, creating a sense of family and belonging for them. Barton's protective nature extended to s/o, as he prioritized their safety and ensured they were prepared for any dangerous situations they might face.

Despite the weight of his own personal losses and struggles, Barton found solace in being a positive influence and role model for s/o, imparting important life lessons and values that went beyond just being a superhero. He showed s/o what it meant to be brave, compassionate, and selfless, leading by example and instilling in them a sense of integrity and purpose.

Through their bond, Barton and s/o forged a special connection built on trust, respect, and mutual support. Barton's unwavering dedication to s/o's growth and well-being reflected his deep sense of care and love, making him not just a mentor, but a true father figure in s/o's life.

Natasha Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff was like a mother figure to s/o, the youngest member of the Avengers team. Despite her tough exterior and secretive nature, Natasha had a soft spot for s/o and took them under her wing. She always made sure s/o was safe and looked out for them like a protective mother would.

Natasha would often spend time with s/o, teaching them self-defense techniques and sharing stories of her past missions. She would listen to s/o's problems and offer guidance and support, just like a mother would do for their child. Natasha's caring and nurturing nature shone through when she was with s/o, making them feel loved and valued.

S/o looked up to Natasha and admired her strength and courage. They felt safe and secure in Natasha's presence, knowing that she would always have their back no matter what. Natasha's maternal instincts kicked in whenever s/o was in danger, and she would do everything in her power to protect and defend them.

Natasha's bond with s/o was special and unique, like that of a mother and child. She may not have had children of her own, but she treated s/o with the same love and care that a mother would give to her own child. S/o was grateful to have Natasha in their life, knowing that they had a fierce and loyal protector in her.

Overall, Natasha Romanoff's motherly instincts towards s/o made them feel cherished and loved, like a true member of her family. She may have been known as the Black Widow, but to s/o, she was a nurturing and loving mother figure who would always be there for them.

Steve Rogers

Steve is a natural leader and protector, always looking out for those around him. When s/o, the youngest member of the Avengers, first joined the group, they were nervous and overwhelmed by the responsibility that came with being a superhero. Steve immediately took them under his wing, offering guidance, support, and encouragement every step of the way.

As s/o's father figure, Steve is always there to listen, offer advice, and provide a sense of stability and security in the chaotic world of superheroes. He teaches s/o the importance of standing up for what is right, being courageous in the face of danger, and always putting others before themselves. Steve's unwavering moral compass and selfless nature serve as a shining example for s/o to follow.

Despite his own struggles and losses, Steve never hesitates to show s/o love and affection, making sure they know they are valued and cared for. He is a source of strength and inspiration for s/o, helping them grow and develop into a confident and capable hero.

Through their shared adventures and challenges, Steve and s/o form a deep bond that goes beyond mentorship. They become family, with Steve always looking out for s/o's well-being and happiness. As s/o grows and matures, they know they can always count on Steve to be there for them, guiding them with wisdom and compassion.

In the end, Steve Rogers is not just a superhero, but a loving and supportive father figure to s/o, helping them navigate the complexities of the superhero world with grace and courage.

T'Challa

T'Challa was like a brother figure to s/o, the youngest member of the avengers. Despite his regal and serious demeanor, T'Challa always made sure to look out for s/o and offer guidance whenever needed. He would often check in on s/o to see how they were doing and offer words of encouragement and wisdom.

Whenever s/o was feeling unsure or overwhelmed, T'Challa was there to lend a listening ear and provide reassurance. He would remind s/o of their strengths and capabilities, boosting their confidence and helping them to believe in themselves.

T'Challa also took on the role of a mentor to s/o, teaching them valuable lessons about leadership, responsibility, and the importance of standing up for what is right. He would share stories from his own experiences and offer advice on how to navigate difficult situations.

Despite his busy schedule as king of Wakanda, T'Challa always made time for s/o, whether it was to train together, have heart-to-heart conversations, or simply spend time bonding as friends. His presence was a source of comfort and stability for s/o, knowing that they had someone as wise and caring as T'Challa by their side.

Overall, T'Challa's brotherly relationship with s/o was one built on trust, respect, and mutual support. He was not just a king or a hero, but a true friend and ally who s/o could always rely on in times of need.

[alittlerightalittlewrong]

MR!Bucky's Phone

[braveclementine]

Chapter 2

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

The walk from your apartment building to the Avengers HQ was a good thirty minute walk. On a good day, it would've been pleasant, the kind of walk you might've made daily if you'd had a dog. However, wearing the sweatshirt again with the nerves made it feel like you had been walking for hours.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stood at the gate with the intercom thing-a-ma-bobber before pressing it with a shaky finger.

You weren't entirely sure why you were so nervous. There was no crime for bumping into people. . . but when it was a King, much less the King of Wakanda, well perhaps it was good sense to be nervous.

"How may I help you?" A bored, female voice said on the other side.

"Hi, I was hoping to talk to the King of Wakanda." Your voice, at least, didn't sound shaky.

The voice on the other side snorted, "Yeah, sure."

"I'm the girl that bumped into him earlier." You said, embarrassed. "I just wanted to er, apologize to him was all."

There was a bit of silence before the female voice said, "I'll let him know. Have a fantastic day."

You blinked. Well, at least he would know that I had attempted to apologize. Some of the nerves dissipated as you turned to walk back to the apartment.

Having only walked a few feet though, you heard a voice call behind you, "Excuse me!"

You turned slowly and then flushed dark when you saw the King standing there.

He was wearing very standard clothing. A black button up shirt with black slacks and black dress shoes.

"Aren't you hot?" You blurted out. The blush went darker. "I mean, hot in your clothing. I mean cause it's summer. You know what, just completely ignore what I just asked."

The King actually smiled, his white teeth almost blinding against his darker skin. "You forget I am used to African climate. Much hotter than this."

Oh. His accent. Oh my God.

You swallowed again and then you said, "I just wanted to apologize. I forgot about work and I was rushing to get to work and I bumped into you and I just spat out an apology and I had no idea that you were the King of Wakanda-"

"Breathe." He said with a light chuckle that almost made you die inside. "It's quite alright. I understand."

Every nerve dissipated. You nodded awkwardly.

"I never got your name." He said, tilting his head.

"Oh, I'm Y/N." You said quickly, not sure if you should hold your hand out. You saw his left hand twitch slightly and he held out his hand, "T'Challa."

"Ouch." You yelped before shaking his hand. You'd felt a sharp pain in your left wrist. It was like backing into a table corner. It didn't really hurt, but you felt like saying 'ouch' anyways.

You blushed, "Sorry, I had a pain."

"I thought you might." He said with a small smile.

You stared at him blankly. He rolled up his sleeve which had a singular colour there. You noticed that it was [Periwinkle/Turquoise/Jade] line. You barely even realized that it was the same colour as the one on your right wrist- a.k.a your favorite colour.

He stepped closer, showing you the name that had been branded into his skin: Y/N.

Of course. After you met your soulmate their name was matched with their colour. You just hadn't realized that it hurt.

Then you realized something.

Your soulmate was the freaking King of Wakanda.

You weren't entirely sure what the correct reaction to the information was. Faint? Squeal? Run away screaming?

Somehow, you just stayed frozen, staring at your name on his wrist.

"Are you alright. . . Y/N?" T'Challa asked.

You licked your lips, trying to form a coherent response. "I- but you're a King."

T'Challa chuckled again, "That I am. Which will make you my Queen."

You blushed again and then said awkwardly, "I'm afraid that you're going to have to um, share me with quite a few people." As you spoke, you pulled up your sleeve to show the eleven brands. The eighth line of purple and black now had the name T'Challa imprinted there.

T'Challa took in the ten other lines and chuckled, "So I will. I recognize your name now, from the record book. Of course, only your baby picture is in there."

"That's a good thing." You muttered.

"Follow me. I'd like to introduce you to my sister Shuri." T'Challa said with a smile.

You nodded, slightly surprised as he put his elbow out. You hooked your hand around his elbow like you had done this before, and let him lead you into the compound.

"Did the attendant behind the intercom let you know I was out here?" You asked curiously.

"Sharon? No. I was walking along the grounds. Tony has a good selection of botany here. I thought I recognized your figure and I was curious about what you were doing here so I came to inquire." He said with a smile.

We entered the Avengers compound and you took a look around. There were two women there, both dark skinned and bald. One, the taller of the two, narrowed her eyes at you. "What is-"

"This is my soulmate, Y/N Y/L/N." T'Challa introduced me. "Y/N, this is Okoye, my personal guard and friend."

There was a slightly shorter girl there with a head of hair who bounced up onto her feet, rushing to hug me. Slightly taken aback, it took me a moment to hug her back.

"Hi! I'm Shuri. You're beautiful." She said, pulling back.

"Y-You're stunning." You stuttered.

"Whose this?" A new voice, male, asked. You looked over to see the Tony Stark strolling along the floor like he owned- oh wait.

"Mr. Stark." T'Challa said genuinely.

"I'm Y/N." You introduced, sticking your hand out on a whim. No idea where you got the courage to do so, even more surprised when Tony actually shook your hand.

"Tony Stark naturally." He said easily but you felt another prick on your left arm. You fought the urge to look down. He was wearing long sleeves as well, so you had no idea if he had felt the prick. Probably, right?

You both stared at each other as you both lowered your hands. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it was an after effect of T'Challa's bond.

Tony's eyes shifted to T'Challa as he swiped his glasses off, putting them in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. "Everyone's upstairs. We're just waiting for Thor and Loki."

You blushed. There must be some sort of meeting. You certainly didn't want to intrude.

"How about we bring Y/N along here to introduce her to the rest of the crew?" Tony asked.

"Y/N?" T'Challa asked.

You were startled, "Oh, but I couldn't possibly!"

"Nonsense." Tony said, putting an arm over your shoulder. "You're clearly my soulmate, unless you didn't feel a prick in your left arm. It's only fair to introduce you to the group."

"Oh?" T'Challa asked in surprise, "You as well?"

Tony turned to look at him, "Pardon?"

You quickly rolled your sleeve up. Indeed, Tony was there on the red and gold line. Tony looked at the several lines and then whistled, "Well, aren't you a hot commodity? Definitely need to introduce you now, pretty sure that's Capsicle's line." He said, pointing to the red, white, and blue line.

Was he right? Was it really Captain America's line? How many of your soulmates were going to be the Avengers?

"Shall we?" Tony asked, quirking a brow.

Well, at least they were all hot, right?

T'Challa gave you his elbow again which you took, while Tony was slightly more possessive, taking your hand into his.

"FRIDAY, floor 47." Tony announced as we stepped into the elevator.

"Yes Mr. Stark. Miss Y/L/N doesn't have clearance however." An automated, slightly Irish sounding female voice said from. . .the speakers? The air? It kind've sounded like it was all around us.

"Override it. Miss Y/L/N can go wherever she pleases in the building, including the lab."

"You don't let anyone in the lab, not even Stephen." T'Challa said as the elevator started to move with a 'yes sir'.

"Well Stephen would break everything, but I think my soulmate right here will be quite good. Small hands." Tony said, squeezing your hand a little.

You slightly blushed. This was starting to be a bit overwhelming for you, but neither of them seemed fazed at all.

"H-How are you taking this so. . . easily?" You questioned.

"We're used to weird sweetheart." Tony dropped. "You've got eleven soulmates and we just happen to be them. At least there's no time travel or aliens involved." He paused and then questioned, "You're not an alien are you?"

"No." You said quickly. "I'm. . . average except the eleven soulmates."

"I wouldn't say average." Tony said with a nonchalant shrug, "You're quite stunning."

You blushed again.

"I was going to say gorgeous." T'Challa said in a low, husky voice that sent shivers over your spine. Exactly how long would they take to marry you? Because there was a hell of a lot of sexual tension in this extremely small box.

The bell dinged, the doors sliding open. Tony led us down the hallway at this point, pulling open one of the double doors and the three of us stepped through.

Several famous faces stared back at us and you shrank slightly into T'Challa's side.

"Whose this?" The blond man you knew was Steve Rogers asked Tony.

"Well, go on sweetheart, introduce yourself." Tony said with a smirk. You wondered just how many of the people in the room Tony suspected were your soulmates.

"Hi. I'm Y/N." You said quietly.

Five of them jerked their left arms slightly.

Steve, James Barnes, and one of the other African American men exchanged looks. You weren't entirely sure if that was Sam or James Rhodey.

Steve was the first to move, holding out his hand, "I'm Steve Rogers."

You shook it, ignoring the sting in your left arm. You'd left your jacket off, showing the eleven marks. Steve's name slowly filling in on the red, white, and blue one. Tony smirked.

"Bucky." He said. His metal arm was black and gold, but he held out his flesh hand which you shook quickly.

"Sam." The man that you hadn't been quite sure you were said next. Another sting.

"And I'm James." Another African American man stepped forward to shake your hand. "But my friends called me Rhodey."

"I'm Clint." The famous archer said, shaking your hand. Another sting.

"Natasha." The red head assassin said, holding hands with Bruce Banner.

"Bruce." He said with nod of his head.

"I'm Peter. Peter Parker." The youngest one of them said. I almost waited, cringing, for another stab of pain, but nothing happened.

"I'm Wanda, this is Vision." Another red head, slightly brighter said. The robot that was standing behind her had his arm wrapped around her waist. He settled down into a more human appearance.

"Hey I'm Scott, also known as Antman." One of the last guys with a grin said.

"Hope." The female next to him rolled her eyes.

"And I'm Maria Hill." The last person in the room said.

"Nice to meet all of you." I said quietly.

"How many lines do you have left?" Tony enquired.

"Four." I said. I showed him my arm.

"Hmm, well high probability that the gold and green is Loki. He doesn't wear anything else." Tony speculated.

"Loki?" Steve asked with slight distaste and a little bit of a frown.

"I already know the green and blue is Stephen Strange because it matches mine." Tony said, not sounding at all displeased about sharing his soulmate with You. "But the black and the gold, I have no idea."

Suddenly, the doors opened up behind us again. You pressed back into T'Challa's front as a rather intimidating man with an eyepatch entered the room. He greeted Maria Hill softly first, his one eye roving to land on You.

"And who are you?"

"Y/N Y/L/N sir." You said quickly.

There was a slight flicker as his eye moved between Maria and yourself before moving forward to shake your hand, "Nick Fury."

Another stab of pain as you shook his hand firmly. His eye flickered down to your arm, seeing his name on his arm and the multitude of colours there. "Well, aren't you special?"

Was that an insult?

He let go of your hand, motioning to Maria Hill, "This is my other soulmate."

I nodded but didn't have to say anything as Sam asked, "You and Fury? Did not see that one happening."

"Should've placed bets." Clint and Scott said at the same time.

"Guess it makes sense pure black would be Fury." Tony said nonchalantly.

Suddenly, there was a large crash of lightning and thunder outside.

"Damn, he still did it on the lawn." Tony muttered.

You were still rather stressed, feeling completely out of place at the meeting, despite nearly half of the occupants being soulmates. You weren't entirely sure if you were cursed or blessed at this point.

"Point Break." Tony barked to the tall, short brown-haired man that entered, "What have I told you about creating bifrost crop circles on my lawn?"

"My apologies tin man." Thor said in a loud, booming voice, flashing me a huge smile, "I got so excited when Heimdall revealed that our soulmate was here, I temporarily forgot."

My eyes flickered to the just as tall, polar opposite behind Thor. Loki, god of Mischief. Eyes blue as the ocean, wavy black hair neatly falling on his shoulders. He was wearing a black suit without a hint of the gold and green that showed in his colour band.

"Our?" Steve questioned behind me.

"Loki and mine!" Thor said, his voice still loud as he strode forward, "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance Princess, I am Thor God of Thunder."

He kissed your forehead and both cheeks, leaving you red as a tomato before you managed to say, "Y-Yes pleasure to m-meet you. I'm Y/N."

Loki stepped forward with more eloquence and grace, taking your hand to kiss the back of your knuckles, blue eyes never leaving your E/C ones before he said in a quiet voice that sounded a whisper to his brother, "I am Loki, my Queen."

It was so overwhelming as he stepped back and you just stood there. You had only one soulmate left to meet.

Stephen Strange. Dr. Strange.

You didn't know much about him, other than he lived in New York and had helped save the world. Oh and that he had discovered something called the multiverse. But yeah, other than that, you knew nothing about him. You weren't even entirely sure you'd be able to pick him out on the street unlike the others. Unless, of course, he was wearing his infamous robes.

As if called by your thoughts, an orange portal opened up behind Tony, a tall, extremely handsome man stepping out followed by a slightly shorter Asian man, perhaps of Chinese ethnicity, though you weren't certain. Perhaps Tibet?

The man You were sure was Stephen Strange placed a rather sweet kiss on the top of Tony's head before introducing himself to You. The familiar sting took place and You told him your name.

"Well, with introductions out of the way, doesn't change the fact you don't really have clearance for the following conversation. Neither do you Mr. Parker. So-"

"But sir." Peter complained.

"Yeah, right, of course. I should go home anyways." You said quickly. "My sister is probably wondering where I am."

"Parker, please accompany her home." Fury said with no room for arguing.

Peter followed You from the room and once you were in the elevator, you nearly collapsed. You hadn't realized just how tight and uncomfortable you had been until now.

"You alright?" Peter asked with obvious concern.

"Just stressed. That was stressful. I've gone so long without a single soulmate and suddenly they're all dropped on me. And not only do I meet all of them in one day in less than an hour, but they're Gods and Super soldiers and magicians and billionaires and spies! I mean, how is this possible?" I asked.

"It makes sense." Peter said simply. "They're all like family and they're all missing a piece of themselves. You're that."

"I thought some of them already had their soulmates." You questioned.

"Sure. Mr. Fury has Agent Hill and Agent Hill has Mr. Fury and Agent Coulson. But Mr. Fury's also had a band for the past [18-30] years, saying he had another soulmate. Mr. Stark and Mr. Strange as well. Not to mention Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, and Sam, though they're all together, they've had a band missing. And the others just haven't had one period."

You mulled that over for a moment. "It's so. . . interesting the way it works."

"Oh yeah, You should hear Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner talk about soulmate bonds. Real sciency stuff. But yeah, I got two soulmates. One's name is MJ and the other's name is Ned. I think the only one out of us all that doesn't have a soulmate is Pietro."

"Pietro. Who is that?" I questioned.

"Oh, he's Wanda's twin brother." Peter answered as we started our walk out of the Avengers compound. "He's got three bands, but he's never met any of his soulmates. But he spends a lot of time in Sokovia instead of with us."

"I thought. . . I thought he died?" You asked carefully, not wanting to bring up an insensitive topic.

"When Dr. Banner snapped everyone back, he brought back Avenger members too. That's how Natasha, Coulson, and Pietro came back. And then Captain Marvel snapped to killed Thanos and that was that."

"Interesting." Was all you could muster to say.

"Say, I could swing us to your apartment." Peter said excitedly. "We'd get there so much faster."

"Um, sure?"

What could go wrong?

*A fEw MoMeNtS lAtEr*

I'm going to die. I'm literally going to die.

You had shut off your voice so you didn't scream as you clutched tightly around Peter's neck as he swung through the city.

Sure, it hadn't been to bad when he'd first started going, but now that you were high about these skyscrapers and there wasn't even a seatbelt- well you were starting to feel a little more anxious.

Finally, Peter landed in front of your apartment building. There weren't to many people around. "See you around Y/N." He said, waving slightly before taking back into the air.

You hurried into the apartment and then made your way upstairs, opening the apartment door and stepping inside.

You sunk down with your back to the door, wondering what your reaction was going to be. Cry? Or laugh?

The apartment was silent as you closed your eyes, thinking of the head spinning day you'd had.

"Where the hell have you been?"

You screamed.

⬅️➡️

[pendovah]

little sister

[swan-of-sunrise]

Wandavision (The Scarlet Witch Saga, Part I)

Summary: (Y/N) meets with S.W.O.R.D.’s Director Hayward in an attempt to reclaim Vision’s remains for burial but after Wanda makes an unexpected and hostile appearance at their headquarters, both women uncover far more than they’d originally bargained for…

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long between stories, but I've been taking care of my mother post-hip replacement surgery and I haven't had very much free time to write. However, I found the time to finish this little angst-filled one-shot up, so yay! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Wandavision Part I of The Scarlet Witch Saga November 2023 S.W.O.R.D. Headquarters, Florida (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

“I’m sorry, Mrs. (Y/L/N), but Director Hayward’s itinerary is completely booked-”

“And yet, I was assured over the phone by his secretary that he would finally be available to meet with me today at eleven o’clock, which is…” (Y/N) made a show of pulling back the sleeve of her blouse to look at her watch. “Right now. I don’t appreciate being given the runaround, so I suggest that you give his office another buzz before I come back with a few Avengers; believe me, they won’t be as friendly and accommodating as I am.”

The security guard gulped, snatching up his phone’s handset and hastily punching in the extension to Director Hayward’s office as (Y/N) leaned against his desk and looked up at the towering screens that lined the lobby’s walls. News footage from all across the world played one after the other, each of them depicting families being reunited and celebrations taking place in the wake of the Battle of Earth, and a wistful smile tugged on the corner of her lip. Although it had been nearly three weeks since they’d completed their Time Heist and Bruce utilized the Infinity Stones to bring the Vanished back, she still couldn’t quite believe that they’d done it; Carina, Sam, Bucky and every other friend and teammate they’d lost that traumatic day five years ago in Wakanda was back. But as the news footage changed to coverage of Tony and Natasha’s deaths and all the memorial services being held across the world in their honor, (Y/N)’s smile fell and she quickly averted her gaze from the screens.

In the wake of Tony and Natasha’s deaths, it had fallen to (Y/N) to pay a visit to S.W.O.R.D.’s headquarters in Florida to retrieve Vision’s body and arrange for his burial. Fury had pulled several strings before departing for space and finally managed to uncover where the android’s body was being held, even going so far as to discover that there were several proposed plans floating around the organization to study his remains for the development of high-tech weapons. Since her fellow Avengers were busy helping to re-stabilize Earth and countless other planets across the galaxy and Steve was at home with Carina – and, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, Steve Rogers was presumed dead after the Battle of Earth – (Y/N) volunteered to represent the Avengers in a meeting with Director Tyler Hayward to discuss the return of the fallen Avenger’s body. Now, why do I get the feeling that S.W.O.R.D. isn’t just going to hand over Vis out of the goodness of their hearts, she thought to herself with a frustrated sigh, mindful of the half-healed cut across her stomach (an aggravating physical memento from her brief clash with Thanos) as she straightened her posture and looked out at the bustling lobby.

“Oh shit…” (Y/N) swore under her breath as she spotted none other than Wanda Maximoff striding towards the security guard’s desk; the younger woman’s expression was nothing short of incensed, with her green eyes blazing and her lips pressed into the thinnest of lines, but her expression subtly softened when her gaze landed on (Y/N). With the memory of Wanda’s near-defeat of the Mad Titan still fresh in her mind, she pushed herself off the desk and stepped forward to deescalate the situation before it began. “Wanda, I tried to call but all I got was your voicemail-”

“I was tracking down a lead when you called, and I came down here the moment I listened to your message,” The younger woman interrupted, and she looked around the busy lobby with an air of suspicion. “So, this Director Hayward has agreed to meet with you?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yes, but now that I’m here, they’re trying to tell me that I was never penciled in and that his schedule’s fully booked for today.”

Wanda’s eyes briefly glowed scarlet as her lip curled up and without another word, she brushed past (Y/N) and stormed up to the security guard’s desk. “I know you have him.”

“I-I’m sorry, but like I already told Mrs. (Y/L/N)-”

“Please…” She trailed off when she spotted the nearest armed guards tighten their grips on their weapons and while (Y/N) cautiously moved to stand beside her, she took a steadying breath and forced herself to calmly continued. “Please. When I came back, he was gone. His body…” Her voice shook with barely-restrained emotion and her fingers anxiously tugged on the cuff of her jacket’s sleeve. “And I know he’s here. He deserves a funeral, at least. I deserve it.”

The security guard’s growing discomfort was alleviated by the ringing of his desk phone; with a barely-perceptible sigh of relief, he snatched up the receiver and listened to the speaker on the other end of the line. “Yes, sir. Yeah, she’s still here.” Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) watched Wanda stare intently at the security camera affixed to the wall behind the desk and a shiver ran down her spine; I’ve got a bad feeling about all this, she thought to herself, her fingers anxiously twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger. “Are you sure? O-Of course…” The security guard’s forehead was beaded with sweat as he set the receiver down and looked back up at (Y/N). “Through the doors, down the hall. Two lefts and a right.” Wanda pushed herself off the desk and started towards the guarded double doors off to the side, forcing (Y/N) to flash him a fleeting smile of thanks and hurry after her. “One moment, I have to buzz you in.”

“I got it, thanks!” Wanda’s voice dripped with sarcasm and before anyone could react, she lobbed a ball of scarlet-hued energy towards the locked double doors that forced them open, the walls shuddering as they slammed against them; ignoring the stares of dozens of security personnel, armed guards and employees and the uncomfortable tugging on her stitches, (Y/N) quickened her pace and fell into step with the younger woman. “You disapprove of my methods, don’t you?”

(Y/N) hummed thoughtfully and followed it up with a half-hearted shrug. “Well, they did try to waste my time back there, time that I’d much rather spend with my husband and newly-returned daughter, so I can’t say that I entirely disapprove. But Wanda…” They turned left and continued walking down the hall. “We’ve got to play this carefully. Do you know what S.W.O.R.D. stands for?”

“Honestly, I don’t care,” Wanda snapped, but quickly grew contrite when she caught sight of (Y/N)’s arched brow. “Sorry. What does it stand for?”

“Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division. A few years ago, they redirected most of their resources to studying and developing robotics, nanotechnology and A.I.; they essentially stopped studying and began to both design and build their own weaponry.” They turned another corner and (Y/N) carefully weighed her words before continuing. “My point is that this organization might’ve once been dedicated to defending Earth from extra-terrestrial and extra-dimensional threats, but they’ve evolved into quite a formidable agency and one that won’t easily bow to external pressure. We’re Avengers and we just saved the world, but that doesn’t mean that things can’t and won’t go south if we burst into this asshat’s office and start making demands.”

Pursing her lips, Wanda ruminated on her statement and as they turned right into an empty hallway, she shook her head in disbelief. “So, you’re suggesting diplomacy for the organization that’s withholding my lover’s corpse from me?”

(Y/N)’s hand reached out to clasp Wanda’s forearm and she succeeded in halting their momentum for a moment; she looked around for any signs of security cameras or employees before lowering her voice and answering, “I’m suggesting self-preservation, Wanda; you know better than anybody how quickly these organizations can turn on someone the moment their interests stop aligning with theirs.” A lump of emotion formed in her throat and just as she’d done for nearly three weeks, she blinked away her tears and forced herself to smile. “Nat’ll come back from wherever she is and personally kick my ass if I let you end up in the Raft again.”

The younger woman’s green eyes softened, and the air hung heavy around them as they both thought about their fallen friend. “She would, wouldn’t she?” Taking a deep breath, she gently pried (Y/N)’s fingers away from her arm and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Self-preservation it is.”

They shared a look of understanding before continuing down the hallway and approaching a metal-plated door near its end; the engraved plaque on the wall beside it read ‘Level 101: Director’ and as they came to a stop, the electronic keycard reader below it blinked green and the lock clicked open. (Y/N) straightened her posture and opened the door, stepping into an impressive office and immediately fixing her gaze upon the salt-and-pepper haired man getting up from his desk to greet them. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Wanda Maximoff. It’s an honor to meet you both, truly.” (Y/N) reluctantly shook Director Hayward’s outstretched hand as he gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’d like to offer you my condolences, Mrs. (Y/L/N); your husband was a personal hero of mine, and his loss is a profound tragedy.”

It took a moment for (Y/N) to remember the lie that Nick Fury had helped to propagate and spread from the shadows for the past several weeks: that Steve Rogers was reported missing in action in the wake of the Battle of Earth and was presumed to have died while fighting Thanos. It was the lie they’d crafted together after he’d returned from his final mission de-serumed and steadfast in his desire to retire from the mantle he’d carried for decades in favor of a quiet life with (Y/N) and Carina, but it was a challenging one to maintain when she knew that he was safe at their home in Brooklyn with their daughter. Rearranging her features into a sorrowful expression with the ease of a trained spy, (Y/N) offered the older man a tight smile and nodded. “Thank you, Director.”

“Who are you?” Wanda demanded, her tone sharp and borderline accusatory as she took a step forward and pointedly refused to shake the director’s hand.

Director Hayward took her hostility in stride, lowering his hand and giving her a polite smile. “Director Tyler Hayward. I understand you’re both here to see the Vision – to recover the body, that is – is that right?”

“Well, I’m his next of kin,” She replied and gestured towards (Y/N). “And she’s here acting as the official representative of the Avengers in this matter.”

“I understand. I’d like to show you both something.”

The alarm bells had already begun to go off in (Y/N)’s head, but there was something about his statement and the glint in his eyes that immediately gave her pause. “And then you’ll give him to us?”

Instead of answering, Director Hayward crossed the room and opened a glass door for them to enter. “Please, just come with me.”

(Y/N) and Wanda exchanged a distrustful look before stepping through the doorway and into what appeared to be an observation room comprised of floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a set of armchairs. The buzzing and whirring of power tools nearby quickly drew (Y/N)’s attention, prompting her to walk up to the wall of glass and look down; the scene below reminded her of a mechanic’s garage, with four floodlights illuminating a handful of S.W.O.R.D. personnel dressed in protective gear, who were working to dismantle five separate sections of machinery as armed agents stood guard. The machinery’s unusual shade of maroon and uniquely-shaped panels of silver instantly drew her suspicion, and it only took her a moment to come to the sickening realization that what they were viewing was Vision’s unceremoniously dismembered corpse.

“Oh my God…” (Y/N) covered her mouth and stared down at the grisly scene below in horror, her stomach churning at the desecration of her friend’s body and her heart sinking when she caught a glimpse of Wanda’s confusion in the reflection of the glass as she took a step closer.

“What is this? Why are you showing us this?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder to see a visibly puzzled Director Hayward’s head tilt to the side as he slowly answered, “Because you asked to see it.”

Tears prickled in (Y/N)’s eyes while Wanda looked back down into the laboratory; the color slowly drained from the younger woman’s face and her lip trembled with emotion when one of the S.W.O.R.D. scientists moved and revealed the decapitated head of her lover. A quiet sob escaped her and her hands came up to press against the glass, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the synthezoid’s corpse. “Stop…stop…stop it!” She whirled around to face the director. “What are you doing to him?”

“We’re dismantling the most sophisticated, sentient weapon ever made.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears as she insistently shook her head. “But Vision’s not a weapon. You can’t do this!”

Unfazed by her emotional reaction, Director Hayward’s lips pursed together in an obvious attempt to appear sympathetic. “In fact, it is our legal and ethical obligation.”

“You know, I could’ve sworn that Vision was created using stolen vibranium from Wakanda, not America.” A surge of white-hot indignation filled (Y/N) as she faced the director and crossed her arms over her chest. “But what the hell do I know? I was only there the day that Ultron bought that vibranium off of Ulysses Klaue in Johannesburg.”

“The Vision signed the Sokovia Accords in 2016. With it, he established his personhood and shortly thereafter took the necessary steps to becoming a naturalized citizen of the United States of America.”

“Seriously, that’s what you’re going with?! You know as well as I do that the Sokovia Accords are currently in the process of being repealed, and all I have to do is call up the King of Wakanda to-”

“I just wanna bury him,” Wanda forcefully interrupted their escalating face off. “That’s all I want.”

Director Hayward’s hazel-colored eyes narrowed as he studied Wanda’s grief-stricken features. “Are you sure?”

A look of incredulity flashed in Wanda’s eyes and while (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in befuddlement, the younger woman recoiled away from the director. “Excuse me?”

“What exactly are you getting at, Director?” (Y/N) demanded.

“Not everyone has the kind of power that could bring their soulmate back online, Mrs. (Y/L/N).” There was a strange cadence in the older man’s voice that quickly put her on edge; seemingly realizing the strangeness of his statement, Director Hayward rearranged his features into a more apologetic expression. “Forgive me. Back to life.”

Wanda shook her head. “No, I-I can’t do that. It’s…that’s not why I’m here.”

“Okay. But I cannot allow you two to take three-billion dollars’ worth of vibranium just to put it in the ground.” While the younger woman turned back around to look down into the bustling laboratory below, (Y/N) paced the floor and shook her head in incredulity. “So, the best I can do is let you say goodbye to him here.”

Wanda’s hands moved to rest against the window as she softly replied, “He’s all that I have.”

“Well, that’s just it, Wanda. He isn’t yours.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to denounce the director’s callous words, but several things caught her attention all at the same time: the look of almost eager anticipation on Director Hayward’s face, the reflection of Wanda’s grief-stricken expression in the glass and the scarlet-hued energy beginning to emanate from the palms of her hands. With only a split-second advantage, (Y/N) spun away from the windows and shielded her head with her arms just as the glass shattered in a deafening explosion; the S.W.O.R.D. agents screamed and ran for cover as they were pelted with fragmented glass, and she could hear the armed guards collectively ready their weapons. (Y/N) lowered her arms in time to watch Wanda wave her glowing crimson hands and descend into the laboratory, seemingly transfixed by the remains of her deceased lover and unaware of the semi-automatic guns pointed directly at her.

“Wanda, no!” (Y/N) hurried over to the very edge of the floor and, ignoring the surge of fear in her stomach that came from her long-standing fear of heights, leaned forward for a closer vantage point.

“Fall back,” Director Hayward ordered, and the guards exchanged cautious glances with one another. “It’s fine. Let her see for herself.”

After a tense moment, the armed guards reluctantly lowered their weapons and steered clear as Wanda slowly approached the table containing Vision’s severed and lifeless head. Watching the younger woman hesitantly stretch her hand out and hover her glowing palm over the crater in her lover’s forehead, (Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy and she found herself once again cursing Thanos; although the Mad Titan was dead and gone, with his quest to destroy the universe successfully thwarted and the Infinity Stones returned to their rightful places, the overwhelming pain he’d caused them all would remain, and none would suffer under the weight of their grief more than Wanda Maximoff. By the time she’d reached her mid-twenties, Wanda had already lost her parents, her brother, her country, her mentor and her lover and while the rest of the Avengers could turn to their loved ones for support, she was entirely alone. It’s not fair, (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched the younger woman leave Vision’s side and walk through one of the laboratory’s emergency exits, she’s lost so much already and now she’s being denied the one thing that could possibly give her closure.

“I truly am sorry for your loss, Mrs. (Y/L/N), but seeing as he was a fully sentient synthezoid, I believe that the Vision would not only understand but fully support our good work here.”

The director’s words caused (Y/N)’s jaw to clench in anger and her carefully crafted control over her emotions to finally slip; whirling around to face him, she stood tall and unflinchingly stared him down, her fury only growing the longer she studied the artificial sympathy written across his face. “His name was Vision, just Vision, and you don’t know a damn thing about him. You’re a cruel, egotistical, half-baked warmonger who’d love nothing more than to bring that body down there back online to use as a weapon against anyone S.W.O.R.D. deems a threat.” She snorted in derision as the older man pursed his lips in irritation. “You’re no better than S.H.I E.L.D., Director, and you know as well as I do what’ll happen to your little chop shop down there when the Avengers find out what you’re up to.”

“What Avengers? A third of your group of circus freaks are off-world and a third are dead, leaving a half a dozen powerless and mentally-unstable vigilantes to burden us with their problems,” Director Hayward shot back, and the carefully-constructed façade he’d worn since they’d burst into his office finally fell away to reveal a snide smirk. “So I suggest that you stick to writing books and let the adults take over the protection of this planet.”

(Y/N) took a calculated step forward and stared unflinchingly into the director’s eyes for a moment before finally speaking, her tone calm and collected in contrast to his clear vindictiveness. “Believe it or not, I know what my limits are; after all, what can a best-selling historical-fiction novelist do besides make a few phone calls and write a scathing op-ed in a prestigious newspaper?” A humorless smile curved her lips upwards. “But you’re wrong about us ‘circus freaks,’ Director. Not only does Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes possess the highest security clearance that this country has to offer and is tasked with investigating those that the executive branch of our government suspects of breaking both national and international laws, the King of Wakanda has made it his personal mission to ensure that not an ounce of vibranium leaves his country’s sovereign borders; I’m sure that both men will be interested to learn all about your so-called legal and ethical obligation to horde stolen vibranium and how to attempted to goad a mourning Avenger into weaponizing it for you.”

Director Hayward visibly paled but still managed an incredulous scoff. “Is that a threat, Mrs. (Y/L/N)?”

“No, it’s a promise.” (Y/N) strode past the fuming director and through the observation room’s doorway, the shattered glass crunching beneath her high heels as she walked towards the office’s closed door; she grasped the door’s handle but paused, glancing over her shoulder to give Director Hayward one final glare. “Good luck, Director. You’re going to need it.”

Opening the door with more force than necessary, (Y/N) exited the director’s office and stormed down the hallways until she located the lobby, ignoring the security guard’s feeble farewell as she blinked away her tears of frustration and hurried to the front doors. She emerged out into the bright Floridian sun and was forced to shield her face with her hand in order to scan the packed parking lot for Wanda; spotting a burgundy Buick turning out onto the street and catching sight of the driver’s bold scarlet-hued hair, her heart sank into her stomach and she mentally kicked herself for not being quicker. Now she can add my name to the lengthy list of people who’ve failed Wanda Maximoff, (Y/N) thought as her shoulders dropped in dejection. While she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and texted Stephen Strange’s number, she tried not to linger on the memory of her friend’s heartbroken expression and the pain that had filled her green eyes while she grappled with the agony of losing Vision for a second time.

(Y/N): All finished here, eagerly anticipating a portal to get me the hell out of this godforsaken state S. Strange/The Wizard: Sounds like it went about as well as I’d anticipated… (Y/N): Oh, you have no idea ☹

A sparking orange portal appeared beside (Y/N) and whirled itself open to reveal her living room. Ignoring the handful of S.W.O.R.D. employees that were gawking from inside the building’s headquarters, she stepped through the portal and breathed a sigh of relief when the portal closed itself behind her, leaving her standing in her unruly but blessedly private home. They’d accepted Nick Fury’s offer of living in a temporary safehouse while they healed from their traumatic ordeals and acclimated themselves to civilian life, which meant that for the past week, their home was steadily piling high with taped-up moving boxes while they waited for Fury to finish making the final necessary arrangements for their new house; they’d still maintain ownership of their Brooklyn home, of course, but for the next several months, the Rogers-(Y/L/N) family would be calling the peaceful town of Rockport, Maine their home.

“We’re in here, sunshine,” Steve’s voice emanated from the kitchen. After tossing her purse onto the nearest armchair and kicking off her high heels, (Y/N) padded into the kitchen but froze halfway through the doorway at the unusual sight that she was met with; her husband was perched on a stool at the kitchen island with the sleeve of his shirt rolled up, his nose wrinkled in displeasure as a floating syringe punctured the skin of his small bicep, and Stephen Strange, dressed in full Master of the Mystic Arts regalia, was carefully manipulating the hovering syringe with magic as his blue-green eyes narrowed in concentration. “Bruce dropped off my last round of vaccinations; today’s Tdap, Varicella, MMR and an annual flu shot, so I’m feeling particularly pin-cushioney.”

“Well, I think you’ve been a very brave pin cushion, sweetheart.” With a sympathetic smile, (Y/N) crossed the room to where Steve was seated and kissed his cheek. “And all of your Band-Aids are very cute.”

Steve huffed in exaggerated dissatisfaction and Stephen’s lip curled up into his signature smirk; the sorcerer willed the empty syringe away and magically applied another Paw Patrol Band-Aid onto the former super-soldier’s bicep. “Just think, Rogers, in two weeks you’ll finally be able to be around your daughter without wearing a surgical mask, and your de-serumed life will officially begin.”

“Definitely something to look forward to,” Steve conceded, biting back a wince as he wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and looked at her expectantly. “How’d your meeting with Director Hayward go?” She grimaced at his question and his expression fell. “That bad, huh?”

(Y/N) shrugged half-heartedly. “Wanda at least showed up but after seeing S.W.O.R.D.’s work firsthand, I wish she hadn’t come at all.”

While she recalled their contentious meeting with Director Hayward, she looked between both men and was struck by their differing reactions to her story; Steve was rightfully enraged on Wanda’s behalf for being denied a sliver of closure and beyond livid when he learned of the organization’s plans for the remains of his former teammate, but Stephen was primarily focused on Director Hayward’s comments regarding Wanda’s powers and the young woman’s momentary loss of control. (Y/N) arched a brow at the sorcerer’s piqued interest but didn’t address it, drawing the conclusion that as a Master of the Mystic Arts, he was naturally curious about powerful beings and their unique skill sets. They were both disgusted by the director’s callous behavior towards her after Wanda departed, with Steve’s jaw clenching tight and Stephen’s eyes narrowing as she spoke, and they both nodded in approval at her biting response to his cold-heartedness.

“I’ll give T’Challa and Rhodey a call to let them know what Hayward’s up to, but I’m afraid that that’s all I can really do.” (Y/N) let out a defeated sigh and twisted her wedding ring around her finger. “Fury made it clear that we can’t afford to draw any unusual attention to ourselves for the time being.”

Steve looked down at the marble countertop as guilt filled his azure eyes. “Because of me.”

“Steve…” Cupping his cheek, she gently coaxed him to look over at her and offered him a small smile of understanding. “After a lifetime spent prioritizing others, you finally chose to prioritize yourself and that shouldn’t make you feel an ounce of guilt. We may not be able to help Wanda ourselves, but we can pass along some very valuable information to the people who will.”

While the former super-soldier returned her smile with one of his own and gave her a chaste kiss, the sorcerer shrugged and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “All I can say is that it’s a real shame this can’t all be solved with a sling-ring, a portal and a little bit of grand theft.”

A soft whimpering began to emanate from the baby monitor resting atop the microwave, drawing (Y/N) and Steve’s immediate attention. “It must be time for Cari’s bottle; I’ll go get her while you start prepping it?” She hummed in agreement, turning to retrieve a clean bottle and a container of formula from the cabinet while Steve approached Stephen with his hand outstretched. “Thank you again for all your help today, Doc.”

“It’s nothing, really. In fact, I should be the one thanking you.” Stephen shook Steve’s hand and chuckled. “I don’t exactly get many opportunities to put my medical degrees to good use, so thanks for that.” After grabbing the baby monitor and donning a fresh surgical mask, Steve left the kitchen and Stephen turned his attention to (Y/N). “I wouldn’t worry too much about Wanda, (Y/N). I’ll keep an eye on her, check in from time to time and make sure she’s doing all right.”

(Y/N) screwed the cap back onto the full bottle and shook it as she studied the older man standing before her, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to his reasoning than selflessness. “You’re concerned about her powers.”

“…I’m more so intrigued by her powers; after all, reckless experimentation with an Infinity Stone somehow imbued her with enough power to nearly kill Thanos and made her one of the most formidable beings on this planet.” Stephen’s quaking fingers withdrew his sling-ring from his pocket and slipped it on with a half-smile. “As the Master of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum, it’s my responsibility to keep a list of every powerful or supernatural person in my general vicinity and after what you’ve just told me, Wanda Maximoff’s shot to the very top of it.”

Biting her lip, (Y/N) watched as the sorcerer waved his hand and created a sparking orange portal that opened into the sanctum’s foyer, contemplating his words before countering them. “I understand. Just don’t…don’t forget that even with all that power, she’s still just a person, Stephen. Promise me?”

“I won’t,” Stephen solemnly vowed, taking a step into the sanctum and turning to give her a small wave. “See you around, (Y/N).”

She smiled and waved back while he closed the portal and in an instant, she was left alone in her kitchen with her daughter’s bottle of formula clutched in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she worked to ground herself and avoid replaying the memories of Wanda’s losses and heartbreaks in her mind, but her effort was for naught; she recalled Clint carrying Pietro Maximoff’s body onto the helicarrier after evacuating Novi Grad, Wanda huddled in the corner of a tiny prison cell with a collar fastened around her neck, Vision using his last words to reassure his distraught lover as she used her powers to destroy him, the anguished cry that echoed throughout the Wakandan clearing when Thanos used the Time Stone to bring Vision back and rip the Mind Stone out of the android’s forehead, the emptiness that remained in Wanda’s eyes throughout Tony and Natasha’s funerals…

“Everything okay out there, baby?”

Shaken out of her memories, (Y/N) wiped away her tears and took another breath before calling back, “I was just seeing Stephen out; I’ll be right there!”

While she made her way through the house to their daughter’s nursery and beamed down at the cooing infant as she took her into her arms and sat down in the room’s rocking chair to feed her her bottle, (Y/N) took solace in the feeling of Steve’s arm draping around her shoulders and the adoration that illuminated Carina’s face. It isn’t fair, she thought again to herself as she absentmindedly hummed the Sokovian lullaby that had been taught to her by Wanda years before, it isn’t fair that we’ve gotten our happily ever after and Wanda’s all alone. With all she’d seen and done throughout the years, it would be foolish not to believe that there wasn’t some sort of higher power out there, so as she was surrounded by her beloved husband and daughter, (Y/N) sent a silent but earnest wish to that power that while she healed from her past traumas, Wanda Maximoff would finally find her own lasting happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: All I want is for Wanda to be happy, but I guess the universe continues to have other plans for her :/ Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Stumblin' In Book VI: "Endgame" Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @fanficfandomlove @momc95 @savedbystyle @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @outoftheregular @junipermurdock @mads-weasley @username23345 @crist1216 @capswife @lilmschild @crowleysqueenofhell @mary1raven @groovy-lady @ljej95 @toostrangerkid @prettysbliss

[classicanalyzer]

What If Season 3 - What If... The Watcher Disappeared? Thoughts

"Time. Space. Reality. To the primitive mind, a linear path. But in truth, they are a prism of infinite realities, where every choice has a consequence, creating alternate worlds beyond what you could possibly imagine. I am The Eminence. I preserve the sanctity of the Multiverse, by observing those who are sworn to watch over it. Watching the Watchers to ensure they do not ponder the most dangerous question of all...'What If?'" The Eminence

The penultimate episode feels a bit weird but it was a noice set-up to the finale and gives us a glimpse of the endgame of this series. I do wish the finale had aired alongside the penultimate episode because it's hard for me to judge the episode since this is really part one of a two-parter. My feelings on this episode will definitely change depending on the finale.

It was incredibly chilling to see the intro this time with no skip button, the colors muted and the visuals flipped (one could say mirrored) as The Eminence narrates with cold, calculating dialogue. The Eminence, The Incarnate, and The Executioner really showcase how Uatu is truly one of a kind as not all of his peers are invested in universes as he is. The music is naturally also a very muted and yet twisted version of the Watchers' theme. And, of course, they, like Uatu, find loopholes to stop Peggy and the Guardians of the Multiverse. Also, the Guardians being referred to as exiles is a nice reference to The Exiles, another Multiverse team.

I would've never expected What If to reference Ant-Man 3 by having the Time Chair be a part of the Guardians of the Multiverse's arsenal. It is interesting but not surprising that the Guardians stole Reset Charges from the TVA. It was nice to revisit Corpsman Nebula's episode, even if it wasn't my favorite episode of S2.

The team's gear and outfits are pretty good, props to the artists and costume department for making this show's outfits so great. I like how Byrdie and Kahhori seem to be the younger and more easygoing heroes of the team with Peggy and Storm being the more serious and experienced of the bunch.

I'm not sure if the episode is saying Carter hasn't been to her universe ever since the S2 finale and if that's the case, I'm not sure how to feel about that. We'll just have to wait until the finale. But I do like how Carter like Steve doesn't want to lose any of her friends and is willing to go at it alone to save them.

Brydie is another good addition to the original characters of What If. I really like Darcy and Howard being good parents. It's just really funny imagining how Brydie must've flexed how she killed most of her universe's villains when she was hatched. Party Thor must've been the best uncle to Brydie, and I just like to think he's very overprotective of his niece when they're on missions together. Also, I can imagine they bond over rock and roll music (she definitely inherited her parents' music tastes) haha.

I'm guessing Storm came from a universe where she was raised by Asgardians. It would be a very interesting What If episode had we had the chance to see that episode play out. She was badass with Mjölnir and her attempt to enter the Fifth Dimension. I love how Laura and Nora used Storm's theme and the X-Men theme in this episode.

It was also great to see T'Challa again, even if he was in a picture. The Guardians of the Multiverse members in the photo really drives home the finality of Season 3. I also wonder if Natasha in the photo is Infinity Ultron's universe Natasha or Peggy's universe Natasha (which is hard to say about the latter since Peggy seems to indicate she hasn't gone back home since S2's finale).

It is really chilling to hear Infinity Ultron's theme again and the recap of his universal genocide. I really like the natural result of Infinity Ultron had Uatu not alerted one to the presence of the Multiverse, they would've been stuck in a logic loop of sorts for eons and all alone to ponder these questions of "Was it really worth it?" Before, he ultimately concluded that there was no peace without life. He knows he'll never get redemption, but if he could save one life, he has to take that chance.

The way Carter's broken shield was framed reminded me of the Age of Ultron vision of the broken Captain America shield.

I really hope the finale lets us revisit some of the cast and universe of all the seasons. Even if we don't get any dialogue, I just like to see some brief footage of how they're doing.

The episode is a noice catch-up of our heroes and the set-up to the show's epic conclusion. However, how I'll see this episode in the future depends on the finale. As I said before, I really hope the finale is 44+ minutes long similar to the Bad Batch S3 finale. Unless they can somehow wrap it up in the normal episode length, I just think given the next episode is the finale that they can surely give it more time to cook and let us process our feelings about this show.

"You are not worried about Ultron. You're worried about us." Ororo Munroe/Storm

"I've been a castaway for what feels like forever. First from my time, then my universe. I've already lost so much. I don't think I could bear losing you as well." Captain Carter

"We are warriors, Captain, we take the road untraveled. Not because it is easy, but because someone must." Ororo Munroe/Storm

"Indeed. Someone must." Captain Carter

[writerinthewoods05]

Marvel Masterlist

Requests are currently open! As of right now I only write X Fem Reader. Could change in the future but as of right now I don't, I apologize.

🌺 = Fluff 🌶️ = Smut 🔪 = Angst

💥 = Crack 🕊️ = Dead Dove; Do Not Eat

~~~~~~~~~~

Avengers

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Bruce Banner

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

Bucky Barnes

Peter Parker

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

T'challa

Steven Strange

X-Men

Charles Xavier (young)

Erik Lehnsherr (young or older)

Logan Howlett

Remy Lebeau

Kurt Wagner

Hank McCoy

Jubilee

Kitty Pryde

Wade Wilson

[enchantingbl0ssom]

Marvel Masterlist

⋆˚ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ୨ ✿ ୧ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ˚⋆

Key !

Fluff 💜

Angst 🖤

Comfort 💘

Ajak !

Series:

Nothing yet.

One-shots:

Nothing yet.

Drabbles:

Nothing yet.

Okoye !

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Nothing yet.

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Bucky Barnes !

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Yelena Belova !

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Natasha Romanoff !

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Natasha Romanoff Dating Headcanons ➼ x avengers!reader ┃ Headcanons on how yours and Natasha Romanoff's relationship started, and what it is like dating her ┃ 1,223 words ┃ 💜

Kate Bishop !

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Nothing yet.

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Eddie Brock !

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Gamora !

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Wanda Maximoff !

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T'Challa !

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Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) !

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Loki Laufeyson !

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Maria Hill !

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Sif !

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Jane Foster !

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Pietro Maximoff !

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Hela !

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Valkeyrie !

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Qwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfield) !

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Druig !

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Matt Murdock !

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[literaryavenger]

I've been having a bit of writer's block lately, everything I write I don't like and delete almost right away, so I'm here to ask anyone who wants to, to give me ideas, requests, suggestions, concepts, whatever. Even if you have a fic you'd like to see written out, I'm willing to do even personalised fics with your name and details you want, really just anything to get me writing something I won't hate!

I mostly do Bucky, but it can be any other Avenger or even non-marvel related character, as long as I know the character so I can give you the best story possible.

It can be any kind of trope, au and pairing, I'm open to anything except incest. I've never done smut, but with the right idea I could try it out.

Feel free to message me or use the ask button anytime you want!

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Realizing They Are Jealous

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

- Peter Parker has always told himself he’s not the jealous type. He knows better. He’s seen what obsession does to a person, how it corrodes and twists and turns something good into something dark. He swore he’d never be that guy, the one who grips too tight, who loses sight of what matters. And yet, as he watches some stranger lean in close, flashing a smile that’s just a little too confident, he feels it coil inside him—hot, sharp, unexpected.

- His fingers twitch, and he clenches his fists like he’s bracing for a fight, even though there’s no real battle here. Just words, just glances, just you laughing at something someone else said. And Peter—who has fought gods and monsters, who has lost more than he ever thought he could survive—finds himself standing frozen, drowning in something far more terrifying than any villain.

- He tries to be rational. Tries to remind himself that you’re not his, that he has no right to this feeling clawing at his ribs. But then your head tilts, your lips part in that familiar, effortless smile, and it hits him like a fist to the gut: he wants to be the reason you smile like that. He wants to be the only one.

- The moment passes, the stranger moves on, and Peter still can’t breathe right. He should let it go, should shake it off, but when you turn to him, bright-eyed and oblivious to the war raging in his chest, all he can do is force a grin and hope you don’t notice the way his voice strains when he speaks.

- Later, alone in his room, he presses his forehead against his hand and exhales shakily. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Because Peter Parker? He’s never been good at letting things go. And now, he doesn’t think he can let you go, either.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

- Tony Stark doesn’t get jealous. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. He’s been around the block too many times, seen too many people come and go, to let something as petty as jealousy get under his skin. He’s Tony Stark. He’s seen it all. So when he spots some smooth-talking nobody leaning into your space, flashing that kind of grin he perfected years ago, he should laugh it off. Should.

- But he doesn’t. Instead, there’s a flicker of something sharp and ugly curling in his chest, something possessive and unfamiliar. It’s ridiculous, really. He could have anyone, could fill a room with people hanging onto his every word, but none of them matter. Not the way you do.

- He swirls the whiskey in his glass, eyes narrowing as he watches the way you tilt your head, the way your lips quirk in amusement. It’s harmless, he tells himself. You’re just being polite. But his jaw tightens all the same, and suddenly, the ice in his drink isn’t the only thing cold in the room.

- He doesn’t make a scene. No, Tony Stark never needs to. Instead, he waits until you’re alone, leans in with a smirk that’s just a little too sharp, and says, “Didn’t know you had a thing for guys who wear cheap cologne.” You roll your eyes, laughing, but there’s something in his voice that makes you pause. Something raw beneath the bravado.

- Later, when you’re gone, Tony leans back against his chair, rubbing a hand down his face. Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But now that he does, now that he’s seen what it would be like to lose your attention, he knows one thing for certain—he’s not going to let that happen again.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

- Steve Rogers likes to believe he’s patient. He’s fought wars, survived decades of loss, and carried burdens most men would crumble under. He’s not impulsive. Not reckless. He’s better than that. Or at least, he thought he was—until now.

- The sight of someone else standing too close to you, their voice too low, their gaze lingering just a second too long—it sparks something in him, something old and primal and dangerous. His fingers tighten around the coffee cup in his hands, his jaw locking as he forces himself to breathe.

- He knows he has no claim on you. No right to this feeling twisting inside him. But that doesn’t stop the way his chest tightens, the way his pulse kicks up in something too close to fight-or-flight. He’s fought wars, but this? This is different. This is personal.

- He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t stake a claim—Steve isn’t the kind of man to do that. But when you finally turn away from the conversation, when your eyes meet his across the room, there’s something there—something in the way he looks at you, steady and unyielding, that makes your breath catch.

- And maybe, just maybe, you see it too. The truth of it. The confession that lingers in the space between you, unsaid but undeniable. Steve Rogers is a patient man. But even he has his limits. And when it comes to you? He won’t let someone else take what should have been his.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

- Thor Odinson does not know jealousy the way mortals do. He does not simmer in silence, does not let resentment fester like a slow-growing storm. No, when Thor feels, he feels. And right now, he feels the weight of something heavy, something possessive, something undeniable.

- He watches as another person captures your attention, as their voice fills the air where his should be. And though he does not doubt your loyalty, though he knows the strength of his own heart, something inside him rumbles. A warning. A storm brewing on the horizon.

- He does not shrink. He does not sulk. Instead, he acts. With slow, deliberate steps, he crosses the room, placing himself at your side with the ease of a warrior reclaiming his place on the battlefield. “Ah, my friend,” he says, voice rich with warmth, though his grip on his hammer is just a fraction too tight. “Are you enjoying my beloved’s company?”

- The title slips from his lips before he can stop it. Beloved. It is instinct, raw and unfiltered, and when you glance at him in surprise, he meets your gaze without hesitation. There is no retreat, no denial—only the thunderous certainty of a god who knows what is his.

- And in that moment, as realization dawns in your eyes, Thor Odinson understands—there is no turning back from this. And by the gods, he does not want to.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

- Loki is not a fool. He sees things others miss, reads between the lines of every conversation, every fleeting glance. He is a god of mischief, a master of deception. And yet, for all his cunning, he did not see this coming.

- He did not expect to feel the sharp sting of jealousy as someone else’s words make you smile. He did not expect the coil of irritation tightening in his chest as he watches you lean in, drawn into a conversation that is not with him. And above all, he did not expect the slow, creeping realization that follows: he cares.

- The thought unsettles him. Love, affection—these things are not meant for him. He has been cast aside too many times, burned by his own foolishness, by the cruelty of fate. And yet… here you are, undoing him with nothing but a laugh that isn’t even meant for him.

- He does not confront it, not directly. Instead, he sidles up beside you, his presence a whisper of silk and shadows, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “Surely, you do not find them that charming?” The words are laced with amusement, but his fingers twitch at his sides.

- And when you turn to him, curiosity flickering in your gaze, he holds it—holds you—longer than he should. He will not admit it. Not yet. But the seed has been planted, and gods help him, he does not know if he has the strength to pull it free.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

- Clint Barton isn’t the type to take himself too seriously. Life’s too short, and his luck’s too bad for that. He rolls with the punches, cracks a joke when things get tough, keeps it light—because that’s what keeps him sane. But watching someone else flirt with you? Yeah, that’s not funny.

- He tells himself he doesn’t care. You’re not his, you don’t owe him anything, and really, it’s probably his own damn fault for never making a move. But still, there’s this tightness in his chest, a slow-burning irritation curling in his stomach, and suddenly, he’s gripping his drink a little too hard.

- He could walk away. Should walk away. But instead, he lingers at the edge of the room, watching, waiting, fingers tapping against his thigh like he’s counting down the seconds before he does something stupid. And when you laugh at something that guy says? Yeah, that’s when he snaps.

- He doesn’t make a scene. No, Clint Barton is too smooth for that. Instead, he saunters over, slides an arm around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and grins at the guy like he’s already won. “Hey, sweetheart. Who’s your friend?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. A warning.

- And when you glance up at him, confused but not pulling away, Clint feels something settle inside him. Something warm, something right. Maybe he’s been an idiot. Maybe he’s been avoiding this for too long. But he knows one thing for damn sure—he’s not letting anyone else steal what should’ve been his all along.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

- Natasha Romanoff is a master of control. Of reading a room, of keeping her emotions locked behind an unshakable mask. But this? This is unexpected. This burn in her chest, this sharp, cutting edge of irritation curling along her spine as she watches someone else pull you into a conversation that should be hers.

- She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t let a single crack show. But her eyes follow every movement, her fingers tapping an idle rhythm against her thigh, the only outward sign of the storm brewing beneath the surface. It’s ridiculous, really. You’re not hers. You’re free to do whatever you want. And yet…

- Yet, when you tilt your head, smiling at something they say, something inside her snaps. It’s subtle, barely there, but she moves—slipping through the crowd with effortless grace, coming to stand beside you, close enough that her presence demands attention.

- “Interesting conversation?” she asks, voice smooth as silk, but there’s something dangerous in the way she tilts her head, in the slight smirk playing at her lips. The person flirting with you hesitates, suddenly unsure, suddenly feeling like prey in the presence of a predator. And Natasha? She enjoys it.

- Later, when you’re alone, she leans in, voice softer now, more real. “You should be more careful,” she murmurs, fingers brushing yours. “Some people don’t deserve your attention.” And though she doesn’t say it outright, you hear the truth behind the words. She wants you for herself. And Natasha Romanoff always gets what she wants.

Bucky Barnes aka. The Winter Soldier

- Bucky Barnes has been through hell. He’s lost more than most, suffered in ways he doesn’t talk about, and rebuilt himself from the ground up. He knows better than to let himself get attached. But when he sees someone else standing too close to you, when he watches them steal your attention, something inside him goes cold.

- It’s not anger. Not exactly. It’s something deeper, heavier, a pressure in his chest that won’t ease no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. He doesn’t like this—this feeling of being on the outside, of watching you smile at someone who isn’t him.

- He clenches his jaw, looks away, tries to focus on something else. But then, as if the universe is testing him, he hears it—your laugh. Soft, genuine, warm. And it wrecks him. Because that laugh? It’s his favorite sound. And he doesn’t want anyone else to have it.

- He doesn’t move right away. He’s still figuring this out, still sorting through the mess of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with. But when you finally turn to him, eyes bright and unknowing, he meets your gaze and holds it. And for the first time, maybe ever, he lets the truth slip through.

- “Didn’t think I was the jealous type,” he admits, voice rough, words meant just for you. And when your lips part, surprised, he only smirks, shaking his head. “Guess I was wrong.”

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

- Matt Murdock is a patient man. He has to be. He’s spent his entire life walking the razor’s edge between control and chaos, between justice and vengeance. But this? This is different. This isn’t a courtroom battle or a rooftop fight—this is you, smiling at someone else, and it is unraveling him in ways he doesn’t expect.

- He can hear everything—the steady heartbeat of the person flirting with you, the subtle shift in your tone, the way your breath catches just slightly before you laugh. It’s innocent. Harmless. And yet, his grip on his cane tightens, his jaw locks, and he hates the way his pulse betrays him.

- He’s never been good at sharing. It’s not in his nature, not when it comes to things that matter. And you? You matter. More than he’s willing to admit. More than he should ever let himself believe.

- He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t step in. But when the conversation ends, when you finally come back to him, he tilts his head and murmurs, “They seemed… interesting.” There’s a sharp edge to his voice, something unreadable behind his glasses. And when you chuckle, brushing it off, he exhales slowly, forcing himself to let it go.

- But later, when it’s just the two of you, his fingers linger when they touch yours. His voice is softer, quieter when he says, “Just—don’t let someone else take what they don’t deserve, okay?” And though he doesn’t say it outright, you understand what he means. He wants to be the only one.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

- Frank Castle doesn’t get jealous. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Jealousy is for men who have something to lose, for men who still believe in the kind of love that doesn’t end in blood. And Frank? He doesn’t have that luxury.

- But then he sees you—sees them, standing too close, talking too smooth, and something inside him goes black. His blood turns to fire, his muscles coil tight, and suddenly, he has to remind himself not to break something.

- He watches. Silent. Dangerous. The kind of quiet that makes lesser men nervous, that turns a warm room cold. And when your laughter rings out, light and unknowing, Frank swears he feels something crack inside him.

- He doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t say a word. But when the conversation ends, when you finally turn and meet his eyes, there’s something dark and unreadable waiting there. Something that should scare you. But it doesn’t.

- Later, in the dead of night, he exhales smoke into the silence and mutters, “Should’ve killed ‘em.” And maybe he’s joking. Maybe he’s not. But either way, Frank Castle knows one thing for sure—he’s never letting anyone else think they have a chance with you. Not while he’s still breathing.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

- Marc Spector has always been a man of war. His heart is battle-worn, his soul stitched together by vengeance and duty. Love? Love is dangerous. Love makes you weak. But when he sees someone else’s hand resting just a little too long on your arm, when he watches their eyes linger on you the way only he should be allowed to—Marc feels something snap.

- It’s not a rational thing. No, it’s visceral, instinctual, an old wound torn open and bleeding jealousy into his ribs. His fingers twitch, his vision narrows, and for a brief, fleeting second, the weight of Khonshu’s will presses against his skull. Hurt them. Make them regret it.

- But then, you laugh—soft, unknowing, untouched by the storm raging inside him. And that’s what stops him. That’s what saves him. Because you don’t need his darkness. You deserve something gentler than him.

- So he stays where he is, jaw tight, fists clenched, shadows curling around his thoughts like whispers in the night. He doesn’t interfere. Not yet. But when you finally turn to him, oblivious to the war he’s fighting inside, his voice is low, rough, edged with something he doesn’t dare name.

- “Let’s go.” It’s not a request. And when you blink up at him, confused but willing, Marc exhales. You’ll never know just how close he came to losing himself for you.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

- Johnny Storm doesn’t do jealousy. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He’s too cool for that, too charming, too damn good-looking to ever feel threatened. But the second he sees someone else trying to steal your attention, the easy confidence he’s built around himself starts to flicker.

- He keeps it casual at first—leans against the bar, crosses his arms, smirks like he’s just so amused by whatever’s happening. But beneath that cocky grin, his fingers tighten against the glass in his hand, and the tips of his ears burn hot.

- He tries to laugh it off. Makes a joke at your expense, something playful, something light. But when you don’t immediately turn back to him, when you keep talking to them, the flames inside him rise, licking at the edges of his restraint.

- “Okay, that’s cute,” he finally mutters, before striding over and slinging an arm around your shoulders with deliberate ease. His smile is bright, a little too sharp, as he looks the other person up and down. “You make friends fast, huh?”

- He plays it off well. Too well. But later, when you’re alone, he mutters, almost to himself, “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.” And when you laugh, shaking your head, he exhales. Yeah, he’s in trouble. Big trouble.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

- Reed Richards has spent his life solving impossible equations, unraveling the mysteries of the universe, conquering the unknown with nothing but his mind. But this? This is a problem he doesn’t know how to fix.

- He sees you—sees them—standing too close, exchanging words he can’t quite hear over the noise of the room. Logic tells him he has no reason to react. You are not a variable in an equation he controls. And yet, the sharp sting of possessiveness coils in his chest, irrational and unrelenting.

- He tells himself to let it go. There is no scientific basis for jealousy. It is an emotional impulse, a flaw in human reasoning. And yet, his fingers tighten around the pen in his hand, his mind fracturing into a thousand calculations, each one ending in the same conclusion:

- He does not want to lose you.

- Later, when he finally speaks, it’s careful, measured, spoken in that calm, analytical tone that betrays nothing. “You seemed… engaged in that conversation.” It’s not an accusation, not quite, but when you tilt your head at him, curious, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s already lost the upper hand.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

- Felicia Hardy doesn’t do jealousy. She’s far too confident, far too aware of her own power, to feel threatened by someone else’s presence in your orbit. And yet, when she sees them flirting with you—sees their hand brushing your arm, sees your lips curve at whatever they said—she feels something sharp and territorial curl inside her.

- She doesn’t react immediately. No, Felicia Hardy is far too strategic for that. Instead, she watches, waits, lets them think they have a chance. And then, just when they start to relax, she makes her move.

- “Mind if I cut in?” Her voice is silk, smooth and effortless, her fingers trailing along your arm as she steps between you and the intruder. She doesn’t even have to look at them to know they’ve already lost.

- She leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, her voice dropping to something only you can hear. “Careful, kitten. You don’t want to get tangled up with the wrong person.” And when you shiver—when you look at her the way she wants you to—she knows she’s won.

- Later, as you walk together, she smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You should be more careful who you flirt with.” And when you laugh, shaking your head, she only grins wider. You were always going to be hers.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

- Stephen Strange has never been the kind of man to fear losing something. He has conquered the impossible, rewritten fate, bent the very fabric of reality to his will. And yet, when he sees you with them—sees you laugh, sees you lean in—he feels something disturbingly close to fear.

- He tells himself it’s illogical. That he has no claim to you, that what you do is none of his concern. But the words taste hollow in his mouth, and the air around him hums with restrained magic, with emotions he refuses to name.

- He doesn’t intervene—not at first. No, Stephen Strange is not a man of petty impulses. But when the conversation lingers too long, when he sees them touch your arm, he exhales sharply and moves.

- “I wasn’t aware we were entertaining guests.” His voice is even, his expression unreadable, but there is something unmistakably sharp in his gaze as he steps beside you. The other person stiffens. Good.

- Later, when you question him about it, he only lifts a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the way his fingers graze your wrist, the way his magic lingers against your skin? It tells a different story. One he isn’t ready to say aloud. Not yet.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

- Namor is a king. A warrior. A god among men. He has no reason to feel jealousy, no reason to regard anyone as his competition. And yet, when he sees another lingering too close, their gaze trailing over you with something unearned, his blood boils.

- He watches, expression composed but dangerous, as they speak to you, as they dare to bask in your presence. Do they think they are worthy? Do they believe, for even a moment, that they can take what Namor has already claimed in his heart?

- He does not interrupt—not immediately. No, Namor is patient, calculating. He waits for the perfect moment, stepping forward with regal, effortless confidence, his presence alone enough to command attention. His fingers brush your arm, a deliberate, possessive motion. “My dear, surely you do not waste your time with this one?”

- His voice is smooth, edged with something sharp. The poor fool who thought they had a chance swallows hard, sensing the shift in the air. Namor does not need to fight for you. He simply reclaims what is his.

- Later, when you tease him about it, his only response is a slow, knowing smirk. “You belong at my side, and my side alone.” And when you see the certainty in his gaze, you realize—he’s not asking. He’s declaring.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

- Johnny Blaze has never been a man of peace. His soul is battle-worn, haunted by fire and vengeance. But nothing—nothing—burns quite like the sight of someone else trying to steal your attention.

- His jaw tightens, his grip on the edge of the bar going white-knuckled as he watches. He tells himself to let it go. He’s not the type to get jealous, right? But the Rider in his chest—the monster wrapped in fire and bone—growls in warning.

- He doesn’t make a scene. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves, slow and deliberate, stepping into the conversation like he was always meant to be there. His presence alone is enough to shift the atmosphere—dangerous, electric.

- He doesn’t glare, doesn’t threaten, but when his dark, firelit gaze locks onto the poor bastard who thought they had a chance, the message is clear. Back off. Now. And they do. Because everyone does, eventually.

- Later, when you ask if he was jealous, he scoffs, looking away. “Jealous? Nah. Just didn’t like their face.” But the way his hand lingers on your hip, the way his body hums with unspoken possession? Yeah, he’s a terrible liar.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

- Eddie Brock knows jealousy. It’s been his constant companion—festering, clawing at his insides long before the symbiote ever took root in his veins. But this—seeing you smile at someone else, seeing their eyes linger on you—it’s a different kind of ache.

- “We do not like this.” The voice slithers through his mind, low and possessive, the symbiote pressing against his ribs like it wants out. Eddie grits his teeth, his fingers flexing as he tries to shove down the urge to tear something apart.

- He tells himself it’s fine. You’re not his. Not really. But when that idiot reaches out—when their hand dares to brush against you—Venom surges forward before he can stop it. A dark, twisted growl bubbles from his throat, something inhuman.

- The poor bastard nearly jumps out of their skin. “What the hell was that?” they mutter, backing away as a shadow flickers over Eddie’s eyes. And when you glance at him, brow furrowed, he exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Dunno. Must be the wind.”

- Later, when Venom whispers, “We should eat them,” Eddie just mutters, “No, we shouldn’t.” But as you walk beside him, unaware of the war raging inside him, he wonders—what would it take for you to see that you’re already his?

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

- T’Challa is not a man ruled by petty emotions. He has been raised in the art of restraint, taught that a king must always remain in control. But when he sees another vying for your attention, when he watches their hand hover too close—his restraint is tested.

- He does not react immediately. No, he simply observes, his expression unreadable, his mind already three steps ahead. There is no need for outbursts, no need for crude displays of possession. T’Challa wins wars with patience and precision.

- And so, when the moment is right, he moves—effortless, calculated, undeniable. His voice is smooth as he steps into your space, his hand settling gently at the small of your back. “Forgive my interruption,” he says, gaze flickering to the would-be suitor, voice full of quiet authority. “But I believe I was promised this dance.”

- The other person falters, unsure, outmatched in a game they did not even realize they were playing. T’Challa does not need to fight for you. He simply reminds the world who he is.

- Later, when you tease him about it, his lips curve into something soft, something secret. “You are… precious to me.” And though he does not say more, the look in his eyes is enough. You are not just a passing fancy. You are a queen, and he will not let anyone take you from him.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

- Elektra is not jealous. Jealousy is for the weak, for the foolish, for those who lack the confidence to take what they want. But when she sees them—sees you—laughing at something someone else said, her knives feel heavier at her hips.

- She does not make a scene. No, Elektra is far too skilled in the art of subtlety for that. Instead, she watches, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Not with violence—not yet.

- When she finally moves, it’s with all the grace of a predator circling its prey. She doesn’t touch you, not immediately, but she steps into your space like she belongs there. And when she finally speaks, it’s a soft, amused purr—“Surely you don’t find them interesting?”

- Her hand traces your wrist, feather-light, but the weight of it is undeniable. She doesn’t even look at the other person. They don’t matter. They never did.

- Later, when you tell her she was jealous, she only smiles, slow and dangerous. “Jealous? No. But if they touch you again, I’ll consider sharpening my blades.” And something about the way she says it makes you wonder—was she joking?

[xoxoavenger]

Did You Hear About the Girl Who Lives In Delusion?

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

summary: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice on Vormir, throwing Y/N into a depressive state that she can't get out of.

word count: 2456

warnings: major character death, reader has depression, title based off a taylor swift song

Falling Avenger Masterlist main masterlist

"Come on, Y/N," Natsaha whispered, holding her best friend up. Y/N had been knocked against the rock wall by Thanos, and Natasha could feel the blood from her head coating her fingers. "Please, please," She begged, tears in her eyes. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if Y/N had died before she was able to reveal her feelings.

Natasha - killer of men and a ruthless badass - was too afraid to tell her best friend that she was in love with her.

Natasha felt the tears run down her face, which was strange because she couldn't even remember the last time she had cried. She pulled Y/N to her lap, fearing it was already too late. She wasn't sure how long she stared at her best friend's face, willing her eyes to open. She was still breathing, thankfully, but Natasha had lost all sense of time. She wasn't sure how long Y/N had been knocked out for, and she wasn't sure if Y/N even had brain function at this point. Medical things weren't her forte.

"Sam!" Natasha heard Rhodey call out. She whipped her head, confused as to why people were just walking around. Something had to be off - where was Thanos? Why weren't they fighting h-

"Tasha?" Y/N's voice pushed all the thoughts in Natasha's head out. She took a deep breath, as if she finally could get air into her lungs, and helped Y/N sit up. "What happened?"

"Thanos threw you into a rock wall." Natasha answered, swiping some of Y/N's hair out of her face. "Shuri will be able to fix you right up. You'll be okay in no time." Natasha wanted to pull her close and never let go, to murder Thanos for even thinking about hurting her, but Y/N was strong and independent and Natasha wasn't even sure that was something she would like. So instead, she kept her voice low and even, the same it always was.

Natasha got up and pulled Y/N to her feet, and together they began running, watching everyone look at each other and begin to congregate into one group with sad faces. A quick look before they had even joined showed that they were missing quite a few heroes, and everyone was looking down in defeat. Where was Sam? Where was T'Challa, Wanda, Vision, Bucky?

"Oh my God," Y/N gasped as she saw Visions grey body on the ground. Her thoughts raced as she tried to figure out what was going on, why no one was fighting Thanos. "Where is he?" She asked, and everyone know who she was referring to as they all looked to her with tears falling down their faces.

"He left." Thor said, his voice so low and sad that it made Y/N want to reach her hand straight through Thanos' body and pluck his heart out. These people were her family, the only one she knew. She didn't like when they were hurt - she hated the past few years they were split. This was a different kind of hurt.

"Well, where's he going?" Y/N asked, as if it were the most obvious question. She couldn't believe that they were all gone. She couldn't just stand and mourn people who they were going to save. Steve stood up shakily from his spot on the floor, his eyes moving everywhere except hers. "He can't have all the stones. Right?" She knew by now that she was wrong, knew that they had lost, but she didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe it. They were the Avengers - even if things had been rocky the past two years. They didn't lose.

She couldn't lose.

"Right?" She repeated, this time more quiet, more shaky. Her breath began to come in pants, tears falling from her eyes with no warning. She thought about Sam, her best friend, who was apparently gone now. About Wanda, who had gone through the pain of losing her lover to a genocidal tyrant.

And what about the people who were still there? Okoye, who lost her king. Steve, who lost his best friend. Thor, who lost, well, everything.

She quickly turned to see Natasha, standing right behind her, a hand on her stomach and tears leaking out of her eyes slowly but otherwise a complete statue. Y/N ran the short steps to her, taking Natasha into her arms and holding tight.

"Please, please tell me you're real. That you won't leave." Y/N begged, heaving breaths as she sobbed into Natasha's shoulder. It came all at once, the unbearable emotions of everyone being gone. Losing was too much to handle, even if the blame couldn't be placed fully on one person.

"I'm here. I promise. I'm not going anywhere." Natasha tightened her arms around Y/N, her own tears falling. She hadn't even realized that she was crying until she felt the dampness on her face, her throat tight and breathing unregulated. That made her freak out even more, and the only thing grounding her was Y/N, who was holding her like she would leave if she wasn't close enough.

"Tasha," Y/N cried, her hands clutching Natasha's vest. She felt her knees give out, and Natasha slowly lowered them to the ground.

They lost.

~

In the five years that Y/N and Natasha had started living at the Compound, alone, Natasha still hadn't managed to tell Y/N her feelings. She hasn't been able to say it, no matter how close she's gotten.

How close they've gotten.

Natasha is sure Y/N can feel it. She has to. When they watch movies together, when they make dinner together, that one time they even danced together.

She doesn't gain the courage until it's too late.

They volunteered to go to, knowing they were the best suited for the two person job. They were the most in tune, worked the best together. No one knew what to expect at this place; all the other times were ones that they had lived through. But not this one. They had no idea what they were walking into.

"Incase we don't make it back," Natasha started as they climbed up the mountain. It was now or never.

"Stop," Y/N's voice was shaky but confident, her eyes cast down. "We're gonna make it back." She couldn't afford to think any other way.

"You don't know that," Natasha started. She needed to say it, needed Y/N to know before it was too late.

"Natasha, daughter of Ivan," A cloaked man starts, gathering their attention.

They're silent as they walk up the mountain, both of their minds reeling. Y/N knows what Natasha is gonna say - she can feel it too. She's been in love with Natasha for years, too afraid to say anything. Natasha is this beautiful creature, full of love and hurt and want and Y/N wants to give it all to her. She has never felt this way about anyone.

But she cannot for the life of her spit it out, and she is not going to let Natasha say it out of fear that one of them is going to die.

"A soul for a soul," Y/N felt her heart drop. This wasn't a fight. "An everlasting exchange."

They turn to each other, Y/N's breathe hiccuping.

"He's lying." She whispers, walking closer to Natasha. "He has to be." Natasha takes a deep breath, not looking at her.

"Thanos came here with his daughter. He left, she didn't." Her voice is low and resigned.

"Okay," Y/N paces back. "In that case, you should know something." Y/N puts her hands on her waist and turns around.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it." Natasha says, her face annoyingly still and unreadable.

"We're not getting out of this." Y/N says, her breath hitching. "One of us has to," When the tears start to fall, Natasha has her arms around her.

"Whatever it takes." Natasha says, holding Y/N as she sniffles.

"For the record," Y/N says, pulling herself away. She steps far enough back that Natasha won't be able to grab her with her lightning fast reflexes. "I said 'I love you' first." She doesn't wait for Natasha to respond, doesn't even wait to see her reaction. She's running toward the edge on the mountain as fast as she can.

She's not fast enough, because Natasha tases her with a Widow Bite. She falls to the ground with a yelp, her body lighting up in pain.

"I won't let you die." Natasha says. She goes too slow, because Y/N kicks her legs out and tripping Natasha.

"And you think I'll let you?" She grunts, standing and running again. She jumps, trying not to be afraid of death. She almost closes her eyes when she feels herself get yanked. Natasha is with her, Y/N's hand around her arm to keep her from falling.

"Y/N." Natasha whispers, watching as Y/N tries to unhook herself. Natasha has tied her to the mountain, rendering her unable to fall.

"How could you?" Y/N yells, tears falling down her face. She tries to move to get Natasha with both hands, but she can't reach.

"I love you," Natasha tells her, and Y/N feels sick.

"I can't let you go!" She cries, heart shattering.

"It's okay," Natasha smiles before pushing away from the wall and slipping out of Y/N's grasp.

"No!" Y/N's hand grasps air, watching Natasha fall until she hits the ground. Y/N throws herself against the wall in agony.

Her best friend, her love, is dead.

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them back up she's laying in water. She can feel the stone in her hand, but she can't bring herself to move. She can't think. She doesn't want to even be there.

It should have been her.

She sits up, looking up at the stone. Natasha gave her life for this stone, so she could live; she can't give that up. She uses her GPS to get back to the Compound.

Her home was gone.

She feels sick when she gets back to the present, standing on the glass contraption. She blinks for a couple seconds, hearing everyone speaking.

"Did we actually pull that off?"

She wants to say no, wants to yell at everyone, but she's not sure she can even move now.

"Where's Nat?" Bruce asks. Y/N looks up, eyes clouding with more tears.

"She's gone." She can barely get the words out before she's falling, Steve catching her as she drops the stone. She feels like she can't breathe, and she lets her eyes close in hopes that she won't wake up.

~

Everything is gone. Everything is gone. The compound is gone and her personal belongings are gone and she. is. gone.

Steve leaves soon after, and with him Y/N's last hope at getting help. No one else understands, and they also lost things so no one realizes when Y/N starts to go insane.

It starts with her buying things that remind her of Natasha. She even gets pointe shoes, since Nat's were destroyed. She has pieces of Natasha's stuff that she's taken from museums, Sam helping her not get in trouble. But it's been months, and everyone knows that she's struggling, but no one knows how to help her. She's like a ghost, haunting the halls of Steve's small apartment. She has him for a couple days, but then he leaves her. He leaves to be with Peggy, and Y/N can't be with Natasha.

She throws up, brushes her teeth, then doesn't eat again until Bucky comes over two days later.

"Y/N?" Bucky let himself into the apartment using Steve's key after he knocked for a couple minutes with no answer. Bucky expected the apartment to be a mess after Steve left, but it looks exactly the same as the last time he was here. It looks far too similar, actually, and it makes Bucky start to panic slightly. He looks further into the apartment, not sure what's happening.

He finds her in her room, on the ground with a sheet wrapped tightly around her. For a moment, he can't breathe; he thinks she's dead.

"Y/N?" He whispers, kneeling next to her. She's breathing, and he tries to let out a small breath. She has her eyes open, just staring blankly. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?" Bucky looks at what he can see of her body, and she looks fine.

"Buck?" She whispers, finally moving her head to look at him. Her voice is croaky, as if she hasn't used it in a while. Bucky quickly does the mental math and realizes that Y/N probably hasn't seen anyone since Steve left. He immediately feels guilty for not checking in on her, even though he's been working through his own hurt.

"Are you hurt?" Bucky repeats again, and Y/N shakes her head, eyes clearing. She tries to get up, but Bucky has to help her with how weak she is.

"What are you doing here?" She asks quietly, letting him lead her to the kitchen.

"No one has heard from you in days, Y/N. What have you been doing? Are you eating?" He knows he's asking too many questions, but he can't help himself.

"It's been days?" She asks, because it feels like it could have been either minutes or centuries, not in between. She feels like Natasha has been gone for years, but she finds herself forgetting Natasha isn't gone if she doesn't remind herself every day.

"Why don't you come to my apartment? Stay with me for a little bit?" He offers it as if he isn't going to carry her out of here if she doesn't listen to him. She turns and stares at him, and he knows she needs some actual food, and somewhere to sleep. This could be good for him, to the able to actually nurture and take care of someone. He wants to help after all the years he's caused hurt.

He knows about Y/N and Natasha.

He can't help the feeling of wanting to ask as she grabs a pair of pointe shoes, new and unused, and Natasha's first ever Widow Cuff, which Bucky was pretty sure was in the Smithsonian in the Avengers section. He wants to ask when Y/N stays silent the entire ride to his apartment. But he knows that what Y/N and Natasha had was special, and he's sure that it's too raw. He understands, and as much as he wants to share his pain, he'll wait until Y/N's ready.

He hopes that one day, she'll come to him and they can talk about it. But until then, he watches her run her fingers over the satin on the pointe shoes and stare off into the distance, as if reliving something over and over again. Time doesn't move for her, but he hopes that it will soon. 

//

tags: (not tagging my regular tags bc this is a fem x fem and all my other tags are male x fem, so let me know if you want to be tagged in natasha fics in the future!)

[braveclementine]

Chapter 15

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

The next few minutes seemed to pass in a blur. Maybe that was because of the adrenaline of trying to outrun these military-type men. Maybe it was because the Bahaman sun was glaring off all the water and sand. Or maybe it was because of all the tears that were dropping down your face in streams.

You felt terrible for so many reasons. You felt like there was something you should've been able to do. What? No idea. But something. For another, you felt guilty for having misjudged him and so harshly. It was hard for parents to love other children of different soulmate parentage, unless you were already blood related or soul related. Like if Maria had Fury's kid, Coulson would still love the kid.

It was why adoption was so rare in this world. It was just to hard.

So now, your feet pounded down the sidewalk, aware that the men behind you were shouting for you to stop with heavy accents. So they probably wanted you alive. That was both comforting and terrifying.

You turned the corner and found half of the Avengers running up towards you. Of course, with tears in your eyes, you misjudged the distance and ran flat into Steve's chest.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" Steve and Bucky were the only ones that stopped running to make sure you were alright while the others descended upon the soldiers that had just come around the corner.

"T-they killed my d-dad." You hiccupped.

"Oh doll." Bucky said softly, pulling you into a hug before shooting his gun over your shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Steve flung his shield out, "Take her back to the hotel Buck."

Bucky nodded, scooping you up with his metal arm, shooting at anyone that came at the two of you with his flesh hand. You hiked it back to the hotel where Loki and Thor were just about to head out, apparently only just now hearing about the fight. Nat was also there, loading up on guns and knives while Bruce was slowly, but surely turning green.

"Y/N?" Loki asked carefully as Thor flew out the hotel with his flying hammer to join the fight.

"She's physically fine." Bucky told Loki, "But she watched her father die."

"Poor thing." Loki murmured, pulling you into his arms, "I'll take her back up to her room and run her a hot bath."

"Good idea." Bucky murmured, kissing the top of your head, "Are you going to be okay, doll?"

You nodded, feeling a bit dazed. "I'm o-okay."

Bucky smiled a bit sympathetically, running his thumb over your cheek tenderly before running back out of the hotel again.

Loki teleported up to your bedroom, laying you down on the bed, going into the bathroom. You could hear him running the bath in the other room, the steady rushing of pounding water against ceramic echoing through your ears.

Finally, you heard the tap being slammed off. Loki came back. "You okay about taking it by yourself?"

You kind've just stared at him. You couldn't remember if you'd ever seen anyone die before.

Loki decided to take your silence for 'no'. He picked you up in his slender, yet muscular arms, carrying you into the bathroom. He settled you into the bubble bath, which smelt like mint and chamomile. Two very calming scents.

After a few moments, you came back down to Earth, realizing that you were still in your bathing suit.

You looked at Loki, "I'm still dressed?"

Loki smiled a little, "Well, I wasn't going to undress you without your consent pet."

You smiled a little and then it dropped off your face, "He. . . he told me the truth. About the prophesy surrounding me and how after I get married, I can't be used to end the soulmate bond. And he told me that he isn't my biological father, he is an FBI agent. And that my adopted mother died taking a bullet for me without me even knowing."

Loki's face was sympathetic and sweet as he rubbed your arms softly with the bar of soap. "I'm sorry My Queen."

"Did you know about the prophesy?"

"I'm sure I've read about it somewhere." Loki said nonchalantly. "Especially now that you've brought it up. But it wasn't something that popped in my mind upon meeting you or spending time with you."

You just nodded. "Did any of them know?"

Loki thought about it for a moment, "Perhaps the wizard? He reads just as much as I do. I'm not really sure about any of the others. Thor definitely does not, he isn't a big reader."

"I don't understand. Why would the ones who want soulmate bonds to stay try to kill me? Why wouldn't they just push me to get married faster?"

Loki shrugged, "Midgardians- and most species out there- don't ever make any sense when it comes to things that scare them. In three days this is all over pet. You don't have to worry. Although, we would all understand if you wanted to postpone the wedding for a funeral for your father."

Postponing the wedding sounded good. You weren't sure how you were supposed to act like you were happy when your father wasn't going to be there. It was so strange how quickly your attitude towards him had changed. Or maybe. . . maybe you'd just loved him all along.

On the other hand, postponing would give those on both sides more time to either attempt to kidnap you to use you, or attempt to kill you. What if it wasn't your father next time? What if it was one of your soulmates instead? Or your sister?

"No, I want to go through with the wedding. If we could speed it up, I would." You answered.

Loki dipped his head slightly.

"Loki?"

"Yes my Queen?"

"Can you untie the back of the bathing suit top?"

"Of course."

You leaned forward a little bit so that he could untie the stretchy strings that were holding the bathing suit top up. His fingers were nimble, deftly pulling out the knot that would probably have taken you a solid five minutes to get out. He pulled the strings free, letting them fall against your back when he was done.

You slid off the top and then pulled the bottoms off, soaking more fully in the tub. Your body didn't show as the bubbles from the bath covered most of your body up.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked as he clipped your wet swimsuit to hangers, hanging them up so that they could dry. How was he so good at home chores?

Loki summoned that book of poetry that he had read to you in the library. He read lots of different poems. The last one, he liked so much, that he tried to explain why he loved it so much. It went something like this:

One fine morning in the middle of the night,

two dead boys got up to fight.

Back to back they faced each other

draw out the swords and shot each other.

A deaf policemen heard this noise

and shot the two dead boys.

If you don't believe my lies to be true,

ask the blind man, he saw it too!

"I mean, the entire thing is a paradox." Loki said with absolute delight. "I mean, cause morning in the middle of the night, and back to back they faced each other! I mean, they're complete opposites in the same sentence."

You giggled, feeling a little lighter. "Loki, I heard the poem too."

"Sorry, it's just such good writing. And humorous as well." Loki said, delight in his eyes. You watched how passionately he spoke about writing that he liked.

After you finally felt a little better, you drained the bathtub. Loki put the book away, fetching you a fluffy towel that he wrapped around your bodice, helping you out of the tub so you didn't slip.

He let you dry off and get dressed while he kept his back to you. "Hey Loki, do you think we can have the second soulmate dinner up here? I don't know, just some random food or something. . . I don't really want to leave tonight."

"Of course, I'll let Tony know." Loki said softly. You could hear his fingers tapping on the phone.

After a half hour, the others came up with a lot of Chinese food. You all sat on the floor in the living room section, a few of them on the one couch. You leaned against Bucky's legs, sitting with Clint on one side of you and Thor on the other.

Dinner started with the heavy conversation. All of the soldiers were either dead, or they had been taken into custody to be questioned. Then you had provided with what your father had told you. You knew your sister was the one who needed to hear this, but you were still torn about whether or not you should tell her.

Most of them had heard about the prophesy, but the only one that had really connected me to it was Fury. Even Stephen hadn't, something he looked rather embarrassed to admit.

I was also made aware that my father's body was on ice until after the wedding. Now that they all knew exactly why people were coming after me, they all adamantly agreed on having the wedding as it was planned. Steve and Bucky even wanted to know if it was possible to speed up the process.

It was decided that there would always be at least one of them at all times. Which was fine with me. It was decided that I would be hanging out with Tony, Stephen, Wong, and Rhodey tomorrow.

Things came to a close quickly before everyone started to file out after wishing you a good night with some sort of affectionate hug or kiss on the forehead, cheek, or even lips.

Bucky was the last one and you suddenly felt the urge to grab his arm and say, "Bucky."

Bucky looked down at you, Steve and Sam pausing. You wanted to ask him to stay with you tonight. You didn't want to be left alone in this room, although Fury had promised that no one would be able to get in.

Then you realized that it might look like favoritism to the others and you let go of his arm and said, "Good night."

"Night Doll." Bucky said, kissing your cheek before walking down the hallway with Steve and Sam, throwing his arm over either of their shoulders.

Even though they were your soulmates, in that moment, it felt like they were something you could never be a part of.

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

You tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. Suddenly, there was a ding on your phone.

🪣🦾❤️: You still awake?

Y/N 🍸: Yes

🪣🦾❤️: One second

Three minutes later there was a knock on your door. You slid out of bed, peeping through the hole to see Bucky standing there. You opened up the door, "What are you doing here Buck?"

He held out his hand, "Come on. Let's go see some wild cats."

You smiled, taking his hand. The two of you walked through the semi empty hallways before going downstairs. Though it was past midnight and all the stores and shops were closed, there were still couples milling about.

Bucky led the two of you outside, and you guys walked for a bit. You could see lots of different cats that just looked like normal house cats walking around, drinking water from puddles or little bowls of milk that had been left outside of certain shops.

Bucky and you sat down on some steps by one of the pools. He put his arm around you and after a while, a white cat approached the two of you. It put its' paws on Bucky's knee, pushing up on its back legs to get closer to his face.

Bucky smiled before revealing a bunch of fish that he had in a little baggy. They were dead, but still in water to keep them fresh. He must've gone fishing at one point.

He held one of the fish out to the cat. The cat picked it up daintily, before promptly deciding to eat it right there. You looked away, staring up at the galaxy instead while you listened to Bucky absolutely adore the cat.

"Aww, you're so adorable. Yes, eat the fishy like a good little kitty. There you go, that's it. Awww~"

You smiled a bit. Yes, you should definitely get a cat when you guys went back.

Eventually, a few other cats wandered over, either because you were the most interesting thing around, or because they could smell the fish on Bucky. He gave all of them away and the cats were immediately curling up around us.

You scratched one behind the ears, loving how smooth, though slightly coarse the fur of the cat was. "We should get a cat or two when we get back home. Loki wants one too."

"Really?" Bucky sounded both surprised and excited.

"Yep. Black cats especially." You said with a slight smirk.

"Ah yes. A witches cat." Bucky said with a grin.

You laughed again and then yawned. The hot air was suddenly making you rather tired and you laid your head down on his shoulder. "That's alright doll, you can fall asleep. I'll carry you back up to your room."

"Don't wanna be alone." You mumbled.

"Okay. You don't have to be." Bucky whispered. You could hear him saying sad good-byes to the cats, before there was a sweeping motion and you snuggled into his arms.

"I love you Buckaroo." You mumbled, "So much."

"I love you too Y/N." He said and you could feel his lips lightly press to the temple of your head. "Gonna take care of you forever, I promise."

You smiled, feeling one tear slip down your cheek, though you weren't entirely sure why. All you knew, was that you were happy, content, and loved.

You fell asleep before you even reached the hotel.

[dalekofchaos]

MCU Recast

Just for fun, I will be recasting the MCU

Notice. Because of the 30 picture limit, will not be able to do them all the pics for the fancasts.

Timothy Olyphant as Iron Man/Tony Stark

Glenn Powell as Captain America

Alexander Skarsgard as Thor Odinson

Hugh Dancy as The Hulk/Bruce Banner

Yuliya Snigir as Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

Jensen Ackles as Hawkeye/Clint Barton

Idris Elba as Nick Fury(if Ultimate)

Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Nick Fury(if 616)

Morena Baccarin as Maria Hill

Ewan McGregor as Ant-Man/Hank Pym

Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Wasp/Janet Van Dyne

Hiba Abouk as Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

Jesus Castro as Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

Ryan Gosling as Star Lord/Peter Quill

Sofia Boutella as Gamora

Simon Pegg as Rocket Racoon

John Rhys-Davies as Groot

Jason Momoa as Drax the Destroyer

Maggie Q as Mantis

Ana de Armas as Nebula

Christian Bale as Doctor Strange/Stephen Strange

Katee Sackhoff as Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers

Joe Keery as Spider-Man/Peter Parker

Chiwetel Ejiofor as Black Panther/T'Challa

Ben Barnes as Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

Robert Pattinson as Daredevil

Alexandra Daddario as Jessica Jones

Trevante Rhodes as Luke Cage

Lewis Tan as Iron Fist/Danny Rand

Frank Grillo as The Punisher/Frank Castle

Jamie Chung as Colleen Wing

Sonequa Martin-Green as Misty Knight

Jesse Plemons as Foggy Nelson

Amanda Seyfried as Karen Page

Yaya DaCosta as Claire Temple

Dakota Fanning as Trish Walker/Hellcat

Stephan James as Malcolm Ducasse

Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa as Stick

Rainn Wilson as Microchip/David Liberman

Jamie Foxx as War Machine/James "Rhodey" Rhodes

Michael B. Jordan as Sam Wilson

Amy Adams as Pepper Potts

Kevin James as Harold “Happy” Hogan

Christina Ricci as Betty Ross

Léa Seydoux as Sharon Carter

Daisy Ridley as Peggy Carter

Charlie Day as Ant-Man/Scott Lang

Amandla Stenberg as Shuri

Maya Hawke as Hawkeye/Kate Bishop

Sasha Luss as Black Widow/Yelena Belova

(I'm changing the direction of the MCU Spider-Man since there would be no mind wipe at the end of said trilogy, no Iron Man Jr, Peter is in college and already an established hero, there would be no pointless change to MJ's name and I would reframe from basically copying everything about Miles and give all his traits to Peter)

Brendan Fraser as Uncle Ben Parker(flashbacks)

Jamie Lee Curtis as May Parker

Stefanie Scott as Mary Jane Watson

Dylan O'Brien as Harry Osborn

Chloë Grace Moretz as Gwen Stacy

Jake Austin Walker as Flash Thompson

Keira Knightley as Jane Foster

Stellan Skarsgård as Odin

Mark Strong as Charles Xavier

Jacob Elordi as Cyclops/Scott Summers

Liana Liberato as Jean Grey

Matt Berry as Hank McCoy/Beast

Finn Wolfhard as Iceman/Bobby Drake

Mason Dye as Angel/Archangel/Warren Worthington III

Kiki Layne as Storm/Ororo Monroe

Jared Keeso as Wolvine/James "Logan" Howlett

Wyatt Oleff as Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler

Charles Melton as Warpath/James Proudstar

Sadie Sink as Wolfsbane/Rahne Sinclair

Petr Skvortsov as Piotr Rasputin/Colossus

Maude Apatow as Kitty Pryde/Shadowcat

Victoria Pedretti as Rogue/Ann Marie

Peyton Elizabeth Lee as Jubilee/Jubilation Lee

Olivia Rodrigo as Dazzler/Alison Blaire

Ekaterina Samsonov as Magik/Illyana Rasputina

Sonya Mizuno as Psylocke/Elizabeth “Betsy” Braddock

Esme Creed-Miles as X-23/Laura Kinney

Wolfgang Novogratz as Havok/Scott Summers

Jodie Whittaker as Emma Frost

Dallas Liu as Daken

Kat Graham as Polaris/Lorna Dane

Chad Coleman as Lucas Bishop

Hunter Doohan as Banshee/Sean Cassidy

Austin Butler as Gambit/ Remy LeBeau

Will Arnett as Deadpool/Wade Wilson

Saara Chaudry as Kamala Khan

Madison Reyes as America Chavez

Isaac as Moon Knight/Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley

Andrew Lincoln as Reed Richards/Mr Fantastic

Jodie Comer as Sue Storm/Invisible Woman

Paul Mescal as Human Torch/Johnny Storm

Liev Schreiber as Thing/Ben Grimm

JK Simmons as Iron Monger/Obadiah Stane

Dolph Lundgren as Crimson Dynamo/Anton Vanko(adding Dynamo as I felt not including him was a waste)

Danila Kozlovsky as Whiplash

Bob Odenkirk as Justin Hammer

Chow Yun-Fat as The Mandarin(No Trevor, he's The Mandarin and actually uses the Ten Rings against Tony)

Michael Shannon as Abomination/Emil Blonsky

Mark Gatiss as The Leader/Samuel Sterns

Jamie Campbell Bower as Loki Laufeyson

Christoph Waltz as Red Skull/Johann Shmidt

Cillian Murphy as Baron Helmut Zemo

Javier Bardem as Thanos

Jeremy Irons as Ultron

Matt Smith as Malekith

Sean Bean as Alexander Pierce

Manu Bennett as Crossbones

Iain Glen as Ronan the Accuser

Oded Fehr as Baron Mordo

Brian Cox as Ego The Living Planet

John Malkovich as Vulture

John Goodman as Kingpin/Wilson Fisk

Boyd Holbrook as Bullseye

Tonia Sotiropoulou as Elektra Nachios

Jodie Comer as Typhoid Mary

James McAvoy as Purple Man/Zebediah Killgrave

Common as Cottonmouth/Cornell Stokes

Taraji P. Henson as Mariah Dillard

Barkhad Abdi as Bushmaster

Željko Ivanek as Agent Orange/William Rawlins

Wes Bentley as Jigsaw/Billy Russo

Dev Patel as Davos

Alexander Ludwig as Nuke/Will Simpson

Matthew Rhys as James Wesley

Kate Beckinsale as Vanessa Marianna

Marwan Kenzari as Bakuto

Brian Tee as Nobu Yoshioka

Lucille Soong as Madame Gao

Julianne Moore as Alexandra Reid

Eva Green as Hela

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Killmonger/Erik Stevens/N'Jadaka

Andrew Scott as Mysterio

(sidenote, Mysterio wouldn't die and would return to form the Sinister Six which would feature the villains from NWH, but it's the MCU variants, no Multiverse)

Bryan Cranston as Green Goblin/Norman Osborn

Mark Hamill as Doc Ock/Otto Octavius

Sam Worthington as Sandman

Sendhil Ramamurthy as The Lizard/Dr Curt Connors

Aaron Paul as Electro

Naomi Scott as Ghost

Henry Golding as Namor

Jason Isaacs as Magneto/Erik Lensherr

Natalie Dormer as Mystique/Raven Darkholme

Pablo Schreiber as Sabertooth/Victor Creed

King Kerim as Apocalypse/En Sabah Nur

Bryan Cranston as Sebastian Shaw

Christopher Eccleston as Bastion

Matt Smith as Mr Sinister

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as Adam Warlock

Antony Starr as US Agent/John Walker

Ted Levine as Thaddeus Ross/Red Hulk

Charlie Clapman as Doctor Doom/Victor Von Doom

[queenpiranhadon]

- Love Like You, Rebecca Sugar

I...write for pretty much anything! You can check my fandoms list through the main navigation on my intro post!

Here are the ones I'm most comfortable writing for though:

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ ➜

› My Hero Academia / Boku No Hero Academia

› Jujutsu Kaisen

› Spy x Family

› Demon Slayer

ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱ ➜

› Harry Potter

› Riordanverse (check my fandoms list to which series I've read)

› The Inheritance Games

› Keeper of the Lost Cities

› The Hunger Games

ᴛᴠ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ + ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ ➜

› MCU

› Avatar the Last Airbender & Legend of Korra

› Lego Ninjago

ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ➜

› Stardew Valley

› Genshin Impact

ᡣ𐭩 = romantic pairing; ✩ = platonic pairing, ✿ = x another character (usually canon ship)

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ ➜

› ⎸ Bakugou Katsuki ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Kirishima Ejirou ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Takami Keigo / Hawks ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Todoroki Touya / Dabi ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Aizawa Shouta ✩ ⎸ Hitoshi Shinsou ✩ ⎸ Todoroki Shouto ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Midoriya Izuku ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Eri ✩ ⎸ Ashido Mina ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Jirou Kyoka ✩ ⎸ Asui Tsuyu ✩ ⎸ Yaoyorozu Momo ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Usagiyama Rumi ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Gojo Satoru ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Sukuna Ryomen ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Itadori Yuji ✩ ⎸ Fushiguro Megumi ✩ ⎸ Nanami Kento ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Geto Suguru ᡣ𐭩 ⎸

› ⎸Kugisaki Nobara ✩ ⎸ Maki Zen'in ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Anya Forger ✩ ⎸ Yor Forger ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Loid Forger ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Kamado Tanjirou ✩ ⎸ Hashibira Inosuke ✩ ⎸ Agatsuma Zenitsu ✩ ⎸ Tomika Giyu ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Uzui Tengen ᡣ𐭩 ⎸

› ⎸ Kamado Nezuko ✩ ⎸ Kanroji Mitsuri ✩ ⎸

ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱ ➜

› ⎸ Sirius Black ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Fred Weasley ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Remus Lupin ✩✿ ⎸ James Potter ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Hermione Granger ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Luna Lovegood ✩ ⎸ Ginny Weasley ✩ ⎸ Nymphadora Tonks ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Percy Jackson ✩✿ ⎸ Grover Underwood ✩ ⎸ Nico DiAngelo ✩✿ ⎸ Will Solace ✩✿ ⎸ Jason Grace ✩ ⎸ Leo Valdez ✩ ⎸ Luke Castellan ✩ ⎸ Frank Zhang ✩✿ ⎸ Carter Kane ✩✿ ⎸ Walt Stone ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Annabeth Chase ✩✿ ⎸ Piper McLean ✩ ⎸ Thalia Grace ✩ ⎸ Hazel Levesque ✩✿ ⎸ Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano ✩ ⎸ Sadie Kane ✩✿ ⎸ Zia Rashid ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Jameson Hawthorne ✩✿ ⎸ Grayson Hawthorne ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Nash Hawthorne ✩✿ ⎸ Xander Hawthorne ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Avery Kylie Grambs ✩✿ ⎸ Libby Grambs ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Keefe Sencen ✩✿ ⎸ Fitz Vacker ✩ ⎸ Dex Dizznee ✩✿ ⎸ Tam Song ✩✿ ⎸ Kesler Dizznee ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Sophie Foster ✩✿ ⎸ Biana Vacker ✩✿ ⎸ Marella Redek ✩✿ ⎸ Linh Song ✩✿ ⎸ Juline Dizznee ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Finnick Odair ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Peeta Mellark ✩✿ ⎸ Haymitch Abernathy ✩ ⎸ Coriolanus Snow ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Katniss Everdeen ✩✿ ⎸ Rue Barnette ✩ ⎸ Cressida ✩ ⎸ Lucy Gray Baird ✩✿ ⎸ Johanna Mason ✩ ⎸

ᴛᴠ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ + ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ ➜

› ⎸ Bucky Barnes ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Stephen Strange ✩ ⎸ Tony Stark ᡣ𐭩✩✿ ⎸ Peter Parker ᡣ𐭩✩✿ ⎸ Steve Rogers ✩✿ ⎸ T'Challa ✩ ⎸ Peter Quill ✩ ⎸ Thor ✩ ⎸

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ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ➜

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› ⎸ Beidou ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Klee ✩ ⎸

You are totally fine to request for any of the characters in the fandoms listed, but these are the ones I'm the most comfortable with :)

ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ➜

› ⎸ x reader ⎸ fem, gn, male readers ⎸ gore/blood ⎸ AU's ⎸ family relationships - ex. Dad Aizawa, brother Megumi ⎸ character x character ⎸ friend relationships (you and Haymitch are best friends) ⎸ character x character family relationships (Weasley twin shenanigans) ⎸ poc readers ⎸

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ➜

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ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ➜

› If I don't answer a request- I promise I don't hate you I'm super slow I'm sorry 😭

› I will not write any requests I am uncomfortable with.

› Happy requesting ~

[swan-of-sunrise]

Hawkeye (Part I)

Summary: Six days before Christmas, a four-month pregnant (Y/N) accompanies Sam and Bucky to a performance of Rogers: The Musical while Steve and Carina stay home, and any hope of a quiet Christmas for the growing Rogers-(Y/L/N) family is dashed when the married couple catches a shocking news report that threatens to expose their friend as the world’s most prolific vigilante.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi there and welcome to the 4-part series centering around Hawkeye and the Christmas of 2024! This is such an underrated and underappreciated show, and I always knew that I wanted to write (Y/N), Steve and their growing family into it (and give a little extra love to Clint, ‘cause he deserves it!). This’ll be very faithful to the show, but expect a few surprises along the way lol thank you for reading, and I hope you all enjoy!

Hawkeye (Part I) December 19th, 2024 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Steve Rogers, Brooklyn (Previous One-Shot)

With Christmas only a week away, the Rogers-(Y/L/N) house was filled to the brim with festive cheer. Their beautifully adorned tree stood tall in the living room beside their grand piano and throughout the rest of the house, they’d set out their plethora of holiday decorations; thanks to Steve’s growing proficiency at baking, the air was laced with the mouthwatering aroma of peppermint, gingerbread and vanilla. The only thing that could improve their cheerful home was the laughter of close friends inspired by the greatly anticipated opening of Broadway’s newest hit show, Rogers: The Musical.

“I’m tellin’ you, Steve, you missed out on one hell of a show!” Sam twisted the cap off his beer and smirked as he took a long sip. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but watchin’ these two trying their damndest to keep their cool was way more entertaining than watchin’ Nick Fury sing.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her best friend’s exaggeration, taking off her jewelry piece by piece and looking through the living room mirror that she was stood before at her highly-amused husband seated behind her. “Don’t listen to Birdbrain, sweetheart, he’s embellishing the truth yet again; as long as you ignore all the blatant historical inaccuracies, it’s a perfectly enjoyable musical.”

“That’s easy for you to say, doll, they didn’t have you doin’ a corny tap dance number to somehow symbolize the hell of war,” Bucky grumbled under his breath, still miffed by his out-of-character portrayal in the musical and Sam’s overly-enthusiastic reaction whenever ‘Sergeant Bucky Barnes’ had appeared onstage to sing or dance. “Trust me, buddy, you saved yourself a whole heap of annoyance and justifiable indignation by staying home.”

“Well, I figured that my brief brush with showbiz back in ’43 was plenty enough for one lifetime,” Steve replied with a grin, patting his best friend’s shoulder as he got up from the couch and crossed the living room to help (Y/N) undo the clasp of her necklace. “Even one as long as mine. But hey, I had a stack of unfinished sketches and my little angel to keep me company here at home, and I didn’t have to watch the guy playing me sing a power ballad to a giant poster of Uncle Sam.”

When the necklace’s chain loosened, (Y/N) turned around and pressed her lips against her husband’s in a brief but sweet kiss of thanks. “I should count myself lucky; the rest of the world has to buy a ticket to a hit Broadway show to hear Steve Rogers belt out a power ballad, but all I have to do is listen in on him whenever he takes a shower.”

Sam and Bucky laughed at that and after a chuckling Steve retaliated by tickling the sensitive skin of her neck and stealing another kiss from her, (Y/N) headed upstairs to change out of her black cocktail dress and into her pajamas. She breathed a sigh of relief when she kicked off her black kitten heels and after peeling off her dress, she hung it over the back of her vanity’s chair and smoothed a hand over the satin slip that covered the slight swell of her four-month-pregnant belly. “Thanks for being so cooperative in there tonight, gumball. I had a really fun time with your Uncle Sam and your Uncle Bucky.”

Unfortunately, (Y/N)’s second pregnancy was almost the polar opposite of her first; where she hadn’t begun to show until her second trimester and she never once experienced morning sickness, she was already transitioning into maternity wear and she’d been plagued with intense nausea for over a month straight that was only just beginning to ease up. Their night on the town served as both an enjoyable evening with friends at a so-bad-it’s-good musical adaptation of her husband’s life, and a test to see how well she’d do during her latest book promotion tour in January.

It seemed as though she’d be able to physically handle all the interviews, press conferences and book signing, but she was still working on preparing herself mentally to discuss the chapter of her life that had brought her the greatest joys and largest despairs. While Assemble: The Unabridged History of the Avengers was the definitive chronicle of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, it wasn’t quite as unabridged as one would expect; the remaining Avengers had agreed on what details should be kept from the public – namely, their utilization of Pym Particles to achieve time travel, the entirety of the time heist and Clint’s five-year-long stint as the vengeful Ronin – so not only would she be tasked with discussing the deaths of her friends and allies, she’d also have to carefully work to keep those certain details a secret. Not an easy feat when you’re already experiencing pregnancy brain, she thought to herself with an inward sigh, slipping into her satin nightgown and tugging her robe on as she crept across the hall into Carina’s dimly-lit nursery.

Predictably, her fifteen-month old daughter was fast asleep in her crib, curled up under her colorful Wakandan-made blanket and clutching her stuffed white wolf; Indy, their senior German Shepard rescue, was nestled in his dog bed at the foot of the crib and when (Y/N) quietly entered, his head snapped up at attention but he immediately relaxed when she scratched behind his ears and the thick fur of his neck. Once their protective family dog was placated with scratches, she leaned over the crib and took a moment to observe her peaceful daughter; as energetic as the half super-soldier was throughout the day, she absolutely loved to sleep and hardly ever complained when they put her down for her two daily naps. Greg and Mara warned her that her daughter’s mild-mannered attitude could always fade away once she entered her ‘Terrible Two’s,’ but (Y/N) had a gut-feeling that Carina’s early adventures through space and all the battles against un-dead Asgardians and Thanos’ bloodthirsty army that she’d been present for gave her a resilience that most grown adults would never come to possess.

“Sweet dreams, my little lemon drop,” (Y/N) murmured, her fingers gently brushing her (Y/H/C) locks out of her face before she leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss onto her forehead. “I love you.”

After tucking the blanket around her daughter’s sleeping form, (Y/N) gave her one last smile and turned away from her crib, unsurprised to see Steve leaning against the nursery’s door frame with a content smile playing on his lips. “Sam and Buck already turned in for the night, so I thought I’d check in and see how my three lovely ladies were doing.”

“Two, sweetheart; you know as well as I do that we haven’t found out the sex of the baby yet.” She quietly closed the nursery door and looked at her husband with playful suspicion as they strolled hand-in-hand into their bedroom. “Unless you called up Dr. Prince behind my back.”

“Nope, just some good old-fashioned fatherly intuition.” Steve chuckled, bending down to press a kiss onto her small bump before they went about getting ready for bed, with him changing into his pajamas while she removed her makeup and applied her nighttime skincare in their room’s adjoining bathroom. “The guys mentioned that Barton and his kids were there, too.”

(Y/N)’s fingers momentarily stopped massaging moisturizer into the skin of her face as she recalled the grief etched into the archer’s face when Natasha’s character first twirled onto the stage. “Yeah, they were kicking off their Barton Family Christmas with a little trip to the city to see the show. They left about halfway through; Clint texted me later saying that it was because the kids were a little restless and they wanted to go out for Chinese food before it got too late, but…but I think it had something to do with Nat.”

Steve sighed but remained silent; when (Y/N) finished her nighttime routine and walked back into the bedroom, he was already sitting on his side of the bed with a downcast expression on his face. “He still blames himself for what happened on Vormir.”

“I think so, but I also think he knows that nothing he could’ve done would’ve stopped Nat from making that call…” With a sad sort of smile, she slipped out of her robe and climbed into bed beside her husband, adjusting the comforter over their laps and meeting his saddened azure eyes. “Most of all, I think he just misses her.” And I know exactly how he feels, she thought to herself as her throat burned and she tried her hardest not to imagine the faces of those she still grieved over.

Not a day went by when (Y/N) didn’t think about all the friends they’d lost over the past several years: Tony, Natasha, Vision, Loki and most recently, T’Challa; just as suddenly as they’d lost their four friends and teammates in the battle against Thanos, the King of Wakanda had passed away after a private battle with illness over two months ago. It seemed that with each blessing that appeared in their life, there was an equally devastating blow waiting just around the corner for them and as each one was dealt, (Y/N) started to truly comprehend the all-consuming grief that had followed Clint like a shadow since Thanos’ Snap in 2018.

Being with Steve and Carina and knowing that there was a new baby on the way certainly helped, as did sharing memories of those they’d lost with her husband and their two best friends and focusing her attention on her upcoming book tour. Steve, understanding all too well the emotions that were brewing within her, brought a hand up to cradle her cheek and drew his thumb across her cheekbone as his eyes softened with empathy. “When Cari dumped her entire bowl of spaghetti onto her head the other night and we had to give her an emergency bath, one of the first things that went through my mind was that Nat would get a kick out of hearing that story. It took me a second to remember that she…” Steve’s voice cracked and he swallowed thickly before continuing. “I’ve fought gods and monsters, I’ve traveled through space and time and I’ve lived long enough to believe that in this universe, anything is possible. She knows, sunshine…they all do.”

With tears in her eyes, (Y/N) let out a watery laugh and accepted the tissue that he offered her. “You sure you’re not the New York Times best-selling author in this family?”

“Nah, it’s just easier to land an emotional speech when your wife’s hormones are constantly being thrown for a loop by a four month old fetus,” Steve replied with a lopsided grin while she shook her head in playful exasperation and dabbed at her tear-filled eyes. “We should probably get some sleep; Sam and Buck have an early flight to New Orleans tomorrow, and we’ve still gotta take Cari to the mall for her picture with Santa.”

(Y/N), recalling her best friend Greg and his wife Mara’s many horror stories of taking their little Abbie to see Santa, bit her lip and replied, “Our daughter spent the first month of her life surrounded by Sakaarians, un-dead Asgardians and Chitauri soldiers, so I’m sure that a picture with a complete stranger dressed as Santa Claus’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Of course…” The longer her husband thought it over, though, the more hesitant he appeared. “But maybe we should pack her stuffed wolf just in case-?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Ever the true gentleman, Steve discarded her tissue for her and switched off their bedside lamp before burrowing under the bedcovers beside her, leaning over to brush his lips against her brow while she slipped her arm over his torso. “I also have to text Scott; when we were finishing up my interview for his book last week, he made me promise to give him a review of the musical. I think he wants to take Hope and Cassie when the touring company comes to San Francisco in the spring.”

Steve chuckled and carefully wound his arm around her to hold her closer. “He’ll be happy to know that they decided to add him to the Battle of New York. Speaking as one of the six people who was there, though, I’m not too sure what the presence of Ant-Man’s meant to add to one of Earth’s first alien invasions.”

“That’s the beauty of historical fiction: you can play fast and loose with dates, times and events for the sake of dramatic purposes while still portraying a person’s real-life story. In this case, adding one of the most popular Avengers to one of the most famous Avengers battles doesn’t change the fact that you – the main character – really were there.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted closed and she could feel her body relaxing against Steve’s as sleep began to take hold. “With that being said, I just know he’s never ever gonna stop talking about it…”

Their tired laughs were suddenly interrupted by a sharp rap on their closed bedroom door and before either of them could say anything, the door opened and the light flickered on to reveal Sam and Bucky entering their room with matching frowns on their faces. “Sorry for barging in, guys, but you’re gonna wanna see this.” While Sam crossed over to retrieve the television remote from (Y/N)’s nightstand, she and Steve exchanged a look of confusion as they sat up and Bucky sat himself down on the edge of their bed as Sam switched their television on to NY1.

“…following a breaking news story, a high society gala rocked by an explosion when it went off at Park Avenue and 68th Street tonight. The cause of the explosion is still under investigation, but witnesses captured cell phone footage of a masked assailant fleeing the scene.” The news anchor’s face was replaced with an unsteady video of a bustling 68th Street; a masked figure dressed from head to toe in black vaulted over a speeding car and scooped a matted Golden Retriever up into their arms, both sliding out of the busy traffic just in the nick of time. The amateur footage paused on a close-up of the masked figure, and (Y/N)’s heart leapt into her throat when she recognized the imposing black and gold leather suit. “Authorities believe the assailant could be-”

“The Ronin,” (Y/N) breathed, and the implications of the infamous suit’s reappearance were not lost on her or the other three men in the room.

“-Who once terrorized organized crime here in New York and around the world for five brutal years. This is the first potential sighting of the Ronin in years, and his identity continues to remain a mystery to this day. We will continue to follow this breaking news story and report on any developments as they come in-”

Sam muted the television and turned to face them with a troubled expression written across his face. “That sure as hell wasn’t Barton in that video.”

“Which means one of two possibilities: either somebody with a sick sense of humor’s running around New York in a handmade Ronin suit and playing out their little fantasy of being a vigilante…” The fingers of Bucky’s vibranium hand traced along the raised lettering of his old dog tags as his brows furrowed, his earlier pleasant mood long gone and replaced with a dark trepidation. “Or someone found the real suit in the wreckage of the Avengers Facility.”

His features drawn with a solemnity reminiscent of his days as Captain America, Steve carded his hand through his rumpled blonde hair and stared at the muted footage of the imposter. “Either way, Barton and his kids are in danger; if they manage to find out the Ronin’s true identity, then every single member of the city’s criminal underworld is gonna go after him for revenge.”

(Y/N) let out a weary sigh and reached for her cell phone that was charging on her nightstand. “So much for that Barton Family Christmas…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: And there you have it! How do you think the Rogers-(Y/L/N) family will fit into this show? What're the surprises that are gonna pop up? I guess you'll have to tune in for the rest of the chapters to find out! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Hawkeye (Part II)

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

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