#the scarlet clad widow

[chokememaximoff]

I don't understand you

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Abstract: In a high-stakes journey within the Avengers, new recruit Y/N Y/L/N navigates brutal training under Natasha Romanoff's watchful eye while hiding a secret crush. A night of passion with Wanda Maximoff ignites Natasha's jealousy, leading to unexpected confessions, and a passionate kiss that changes everything, uniting them in a newfound love.

TW:Injury,angst

In the bustling heart of the Avengers' headquarters, Y/N Y/L/N stood on the precipice of a new chapter in her life. Freshly recruited to the team, she found herself in a position she'd only dreamed of - under the watchful eye of Natasha Romanoff, the legendary Black Widow herself.

Y/N had admired Natasha from afar for years, her heart pounding whenever the formidable assassin graced the screen. Now, she was here, about to embark on an intense training regimen with the very woman who had inspired her to join the ranks of Earth's mightiest heroes.

As Y/N stepped into the training room, the sharp echo of her own footfalls against the cool floor was the only sound in the air. Then, like a shadow emerging from the depths, Natasha appeared. Clad in her sleek black suit, Natasha's presence was both commanding and enigmatic.

"Welcome, Y/N," Natasha's voice was like silk and steel combined. "Let's see what you're made of."

The training that followed was relentless, pushing Y/N's physical and mental limits to the brink. Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks, all while Natasha's piercing gaze bore into Y/N's every move. The sweat-soaked sessions left Y/N's muscles aching and her thoughts spiraling, but she refused to give up.

During a rare break, Y/N attempted to strike up a conversation with Natasha. "You know, I've admired your work for a long time. It's an honor to train under you."

Natasha's gaze remained focused on the distance. "Admiration doesn't win battles, Y/N. Actions do."

Y/N's excitement deflated like a punctured balloon. She was determined to impress Natasha, to earn her respect, but her attempts at conversation seemed futile.

Weeks turned into months, and Y/N's frustration grew. Despite the intensity of their training, she found herself drawn to Natasha's enigmatic demeanor. There was a fire within Natasha that intrigued Y/N, and her heart couldn't help but flutter whenever Natasha's eyes met hers.

One evening, the Avengers hosted a party to celebrate a successful mission. The headquarters transformed into a vibrant dance floor, the air filled with laughter and music. Y/N, dressed in a stunning outfit, hesitated at the edges of the dance floor, her eyes searching for Natasha.

However, her search was interrupted by a familiar voice. "Care to dance?" Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, stood before her, a playful smile on her lips.

Caught off guard, Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking Wanda's hand, allowing herself to be pulled into the dance. The music throbbed through her veins as their bodies moved in sync, the connection between them undeniable.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Natasha had been watching from afar. Her jaw clenched as she observed the intimacy between Y/N and Wanda, igniting a spark of jealousy that she refused to acknowledge.

As the night wore on, Y/N found herself in Wanda's arms once more, their movements growing more suggestive with each passing song. The tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of desire and curiosity.

When the sun began to rise, Y/N and Wanda found themselves in Y/N's room, their breathing heavy as they shared a fleeting moment of vulnerability. "This is a one-time thing, right?" Y/N's voice wavered as she sought reassurance.

Wanda's eyes softened, her fingers tracing Y/N's jawline. "Of course. Just a moment of solace."

Days turned into weeks, and the memory of that night lingered in the back of Y/N's mind. Then, a mission came, one that would change everything. Y/N and Natasha were assigned to infiltrate a Hydra base deep in enemy territory.

The mission was fraught with danger, every step a calculated risk. In the midst of chaos, Y/N found herself shielding Natasha from gunfire, taking a brutal beating in the process. Despite her injuries, she pushed through, determined to protect her fellow Avenger.

When they returned to the compound, Y/N's energy was spent, her body on the brink of collapse. She fought to hide her pain, determined not to show weakness in front of Natasha. But as her vision blurred and her strength waned, Y/N finally succumbed to her injuries, collapsing into unconsciousness.

The last thing she remembered was Natasha's panicked voice calling her name.

When Y/N awoke, she was greeted by the sight of Natasha sitting beside her bed. The usually stoic Avenger appeared almost vulnerable, her fingers gently tracing the bandages that covered Y/N's wounds.

"You idiot," Natasha's voice was a mixture of anger and concern. "You should have told me you were hurt."

Y/N tried to muster a smile. "Didn't want to slow you down."

Natasha's features softened as she met Y/N's gaze. "You shouldn't have had to bear this alone."

As Natasha tended to Y/N's wounds, the air between them felt charged with unspoken emotions. Y/N's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

When the last bandage was applied, Natasha's gaze remained fixed on Y/N. "You risked everything for me."

Y/N shrugged, attempting to downplay her actions. "We're a team, aren't we?"

Natasha's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with an emotion Y/N couldn't quite decipher. "You mean more to me than just a teammate."

Confusion swirled within Y/N's mind, but before she could respond, the door burst open. Wanda Maximoff rushed in, her eyes wide with concern. "Y/N! Are you okay?"

Natasha's expression hardened as she rose from her seat, her movements abrupt. "She's fine. Now leave."

Wanda's concern shifted to confusion, but she nodded and left the room. Natasha's attention returned to Y/N, her gaze intense.

"What was that about?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Natasha hesitated, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's face. "She doesn't need to worry about you."

Y/N's brow furrowed. "Why do you care so much?"

Natasha's jaw clenched, her gaze falling to her hands. "Maybe I care more than I should."

The words hung in the air, a weighty confession that left Y/N stunned. Before she could respond, Natasha turned to leave the room, her steps heavy with a mixture of frustration and resignation.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N's injuries slowly healed. As she returned to training, Natasha's intensity was unwavering. Y/N's patience was wearing thin, her frustration boiling over during a particularly grueling session.

"I don't understand you," Y/N finally snapped, sweat dripping down her forehead. "You push me, you ignore me, you act like I'm nothing more than a nuisance!"

Natasha's eyes narrowed, her tone icy. "Maybe you'd prefer someone else to train you."

Y/N's chest heaved as anger flared within her. "Maybe I would. Someone who actually sees me."

The tension in the room was palpable, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. Natasha's expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and something else Y/N couldn't quite place.

"Someone like Wanda, perhaps?" Natasha's voice was sharp, her eyes narrowing.

Y/N's heart raced, her pulse echoing in her ears. "What are you talking about?"

Natasha's gaze bore into Y/N's, her features a mask of frustration. "You seem to enjoy her company quite a bit."

Confusion and realization collided within Y/N's mind, and the truth slipped from her lips before she could stop it. "It's not just her company I enjoy."

Natasha's eyes widened, a flicker of something crossing her features before she masked it. "What are you saying?"

Y/N's cheeks burned, her heart racing as she met Natasha's gaze head-on. "I... I've had feelings for you since before I even joined the Avengers."

The room fell silent, the weight of Y/N's confession hanging in the air like a delicate thread. Before Y/N could react, Natasha crossed the distance between them, her fingers gently tilting Y/N's chin upward. Then, with a mixture of passion and vulnerability, Natasha pressed her lips to Y/N's.

The kiss was a revelation, a culmination of months of training, longing, and unspoken emotions. Y/N's heart raced, her fingers instinctively reaching to tangle in Natasha's hair, pulling her closer.

As they finally broke apart, Natasha's gaze bore into Y/N's, a raw intensity in her eyes. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips. "Maybe you should've told me."

Natasha's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. "I was too busy training you."

Y/N chuckled, the tension of the past months melting away. "Well, maybe we can find some time for more... personal training?"

Natasha's laughter joined Y/N's, and in that moment, the distance between them seemed to disappear completely. They were Avengers, yes, but they were also two individuals who had found an unexpected connection amidst the chaos of their lives.

As their laughter echoed through the room, the bond between Y/N Y/L/N and Natasha Romanoff deepened, forging a path toward a future that neither of them could have anticipated.

[rpking99]

Walking In On The Red-Heads

OPEN RP

None knew of the secret relationship between Scarlet Witch and Black Widow. Between Wanda and Natasha.

That was why this was such a shock... And a golden opportunity for your muse.

Seeing the beautiful Scarlet Witch straddling the thigh of the Russian Super Spy, softly grinding against it. Seeing the Black Widow's hand softly groping the latex clad tit of the Mutant Mage, the soft flesh bulging around her fingers.

The loving look in their eyes as their lips parted from one another, strands of saliva connecting their panting mouths.

The picture you had taken would be a PR Nightmare for them and the Avengers.

The sound of the camera shutter catching their attention. Horror filling their faces as they knew

...

They'd do whatever your muse wanted....

[neathbound-fiends]

OC Smash or Pass

Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

Was tagged by @letters-of-fire

Doing this a little different just because I wanna do all of the adults because I'm indecisive and don't wanna pick just one (so this'll be five different posts)

Florence Penbrook | the Scarlet-Clad Widow

Age: 28

Gender: woman

Sexuality: asexual, but will get with anybody for money

Occupation: prostitute, smuggler, blackmailer, and others

Propaganda for:

+A lot of fun to be around, and ALWAYS exciting!

+Hot and she knows it and will use it to her advantage

+Knows a lot of dirt on a lot of people, and will absolutely use that when it's to her benefit

Propaganda against:

+Everything about her tbh

+She has absolutely no loyalty, and will hurt you for fun and move on the instant she's bored of you and can't take anything more

+Extraordinarily selfish and cares for no one but herself

+She owns a horse sized sorrow spider to whom she is kind of weirdly and unhealthily attached

+Always expects her freedom to do whatever she pleases, with whom she pleases, but absolutely CANNOT tolerate the same from a partner

[starlightandetherealshadows]

If on Halloween the Mc work a sexy costume what sort of costume in particular would drive each of the RO’s crazy?

Hi love!

This reminded me that I need to think about what I wanna wear for Halloween…not like I have anywhere to go but just for the vibe

Anyways! Which costumes would make the RO go crazy go stupid?

Delphine: she’s a big fan of the classic Priest, or Devil costumes. she likes it simple and sexy 😛 she’d love to do matching costumes too

Zero: anything where MC looks a bit evil/unhinged and covered in blood (fake blood…haha unless..👀🤭) particularly bloody bride/groom idk he’s a lil strange. Vampire costumes also do it for him.

Cecelia/Chase: Black Widow, Captain America, Thor, Scarlet Witch yea you see where I’m goin with this

Ayana: anything from anime/mangas, she might actually pass out.

Xa’eks/Xa’veed: any time MC is scantily clad does it for them. They don’t understand the concept of Halloween, C would just give them some cat ears.

[infinitycutter]

Fashion's Poet of Black : YAMAMOTO

by Suzy Menkes, for the New York Times (2000)

For the first time in recent fashion memory, black — essential, existential black — is no longer the ultimate symbol of cool. Black has dominated designer dressing, just as it has clad the entire fashion profession, since the wave of Japanese style swept over fashion in the early 1980s.

But now color has burst into the autumn clothes. Bright hues and subtle patterns are challenging dark and monochrome — and nowhere more so than from the designers for whom black was once the only fashion creed.

Yohji Yamamoto has built a career on proving that black — aggressive, rebellious, somber, romantic or seductive — is beautiful. He, more than most designers, is the poet of black, the director of fashion's film noir. In fact, a celluloid version of his favorite men in black was shown Saturday at the Venice film festival, where Yamamoto designed the costumes (not to mention the loud jewelry) for "Brother," a new movie by Takeshi Kitano about the yakuza, Japanese gangsters.

What is the lure of black that Yamamoto has been addicted to it since he first graduated from fashion college in Tokyo in 1969?

"Why black?" says Yamamoto, sitting in his Paris studio, black beard and black hair above a dense black honeycomb sweater, mat-black pants and black sneakers flashed with scarlet.

"Black is modest and arrogant at the same time," he says. "Black is lazy and easy — but mysterious. It means that many things go together, yet it takes different aspects in many fabrics. You need black to have a silhouette. Black can swallow light, or make things look sharp. But above all black says this: 'I don't bother you — don't bother me!"'

All this is said with a merry smile that belies Yamamoto's reputation as a designer of clothes for earnest intellectuals. Recent collections have shown rather a whimsical sense of humor: the Inuit-inspired autumn line with its russet paisleys and furry hoods, and the 1998 "wedding" show, in which a bridal "striptease" took models from inflated Victorian crinolines to slim-line dresses and pants.

For men, the art-director image of black suit with truncated proportions, shown on brawny-to-scrawny guys, has also been replaced by a more macho, even rock-star look. (As recreation, Yamamoto plays guitar or harmonica with a group called Suicide City.)

Yamamoto cut his fashion teeth in his widowed mother's dressmaking business, but rebelled at the clients' arriving with magazine styles to copy.

"At the very beginning, I just wanted women in men's style," he says. "Typically Japanese women were wearing imported and very feminine things and I didn't like it. I jumped on the idea of designing coats for women. It meant something for me — the idea of a coat guarding a home, hiding the woman's body. Maybe I liked imagining what is inside."

When an avant-garde buyer gave Yamamoto his first corner in a store, he was faced with what he calls elliptically "very strong competition" and "the start of my Olympic games." He was referring to the designs of Rei Kawakubo, his long-term partner and fashion picador under her label Comme des Garcons. Together — yet with entirely separate aesthetics — they created dark shrouds, asymmetrically cut in fluid, indeterminate shapes, and sheltering sweaters that clothed the acolytes of the all-black cult.

Of course, Japanese designers did not introduce black to 20th-century fashion, as witness the Parisian elegance of Coco Chanel's little black dress or Yves Saint Laurent's tuxedo, and rebellious style from Beatniks through Marlon Brando. But there was an abstraction, a modernism and a lack of visual definition in the work of fashion's avant garde that seemed to be layered in meaning, in the spirit of Mark Rothko's "dark" paintings.

Yamamoto, born in 1943, describes a "lost" postwar generation, educated to look to America or Europe and ignore Japanese tradition. So when his experiments in pushing the boundaries of shape and proportion were hailed as "Japanese" style, he was baffled.

Yamamoto sees his original look emerging from punk. His first collection was presented in Tokyo in 1977 and in Paris in 1981 when the "Japanese" (including Issey Miyake and Kenzo Takada, who were five years his senior) seemed diametrically opposed to everything that French fashion stood for: its well-defined cut and silhouette, its familiar fabrics, its conception of female allure and coquetry. Even 15 years later, when Carolyn Bessette Kennedy favored Yamamoto's designs in the mid-1990s, her choice of flat-plane, dark clothes to frame her good looks still seemed revolutionary.

The French electronic musician Jean-Michel Jarre once defined Yamamoto's style like this: "His work is totally different from anything else. I like the quasi-religious approach he has to fashion. For me, a woman in Yohji is like a nymphomaniac nun. His clothes are at once sensual and very ritualistic."

That phrases captures the eroticism lurking under the skillful tailoring of a purist exterior. In his genuine affection for women, Yamamoto stands apart in a fashion world where male designers tend either to idolize or to dislike the female sex. He admits that "my life is thinking about women."

"First my mother — last my daughter," he says. "And in between are all the secret ones."

Mother, daughter and son (who has brought him a granddaughter) all work in the business: His mother is the revered directrice; his daughter was launched in March, after three years as pattern cutter, as designer of the ready-to-wear line called Y's bis Limi. The proud father claims, "She'll be strong — she'll be bigger than me."

Yamamoto's career reached its zenith with the 1998 "wedding" collection. It confirmed the new, romantic path he had taken as he shifted register from masculine to feminine. The catalyst was his study of haute couture. He pored over the neo-Edwardian gowns of the American designer Charles James at the Brooklyn Museum of Art in the summer of 1999, when he was in New York to pick up an American Fashion Award. In the jigsaw of pattern pieces he uncovered "another designer's process."

The museum has now asked him to curate a fashion exhibition from its archives. It will open in autumn 2001 and thus commemorate the anniversary of 20 years showing in Paris, although Yamamoto says he is thinking not of his past but of "tomorrow and the day after tomorrow." At 56, he thinks vaguely of retiring and of fulfilling his ambition to write. He worries that others might think, "Yohji, you have sung your song already."

A recent Yamamoto signature has been the swoop of a back, from the geisha-esque curve of the nape through the base of the spine to the neo-Victorian bustle.

"This is my fetish idea for a woman's body," he says. "I like the back curve line of women. I am always watching the silhouette in the streets. The rib cage and the hip is very important for me. The image represents the back of a woman. I'm always following her. Don't go! Don't leave me!"

Don't count on Yamamoto, or his women, turning their backs on black.

[lieutenantwilliamrusso]

Smoke Signals 1

S.H.I.E.L.D Agent! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: None yet, will change soon.

Summary: You're a Black Widow turned Avenger, putting together a mission to take down Rawlins. The only thing standing in your way is whether or not Frank Castle and Billy Russo will help you. It might take less convincing than you thought.

A/N: Hey all! This is my first Billy fic, so I'd love to know what ya think. I've always liked the idea of the reader being even more of a badass than Billy so here she is! This is sort-of not really a slow burn, bc we'll get there soon, I promise! This is an 18+ fic, so minors DNI.

P.S. if anyone has any suggestions on what reader's superhero name should be, plz plz tell me.

The glass door to Natasha Romanoff’s office swished closed behind you with a click. She was behind her desk, red hair swept up into a simple bun, pieces falling around her face haphazardly. She looked almost serene as she flipped through the paperwork on her desk. It was a shame you were about to ruin it.

“Nat,” Natasha lifted her head as you gripped the files in your hand. “You gotta see this.”

The corner of Nat’s lips quirked up as she took the files from your outstretched hand.

“Something I think we should look into,” You add, biting the inside of your cheek.

You trusted Nat with this absolutely. You had known her since you were children, fighting for scraps in the Red Room. You’d grown into Black Widows, and when she got out, you had followed her. Now here you were, almost a decade after those events, working as Avengers. Your ledger was still scarlet, but it had been diluted, a little washed away every time you put your trust in your team, and today, in Natasha’s interest in the file on her desk.

The woman in question flipped open the cream folder and perused the contents carefully.

“Walk me through it, Y/L/N.”

“You know I’ve been looking into Williams Rawlins.” When you’d met the man a few months ago at a gala, there had been something off-putting about him. The facade he put up was iron-clad to most, but you could tell was simply a cover. You’d been fishing around in your free time ever since.

Nat hummed in affirmation.

“I made contact with an informant I have in Kandahar. She said some really interesting things.”

“Like?”

“Like, Rawlins has been cherry-picking men for meetings at random hours, men coming and going in the middle of the night, coming back covered in blood. I did some digging. Nothing like that has been approved by Congress. I think he’s running something really fuckin’ illegal, Nat.”

Nat tapped a manicured nail on her desk as she considered what you were really asking underneath all the information.

“Since when are we the military police?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Since innocent people might be in danger if we don’t go see what’s going on. You and I know better than anyone what kind of shit men with too much power can stir up.”

“So,” Nat begins as she folds her hands and rests her chin upon them. “You’re proposing we go out there, to Kandahar, and, what? Snoop around? Interrogate him? His men?”

You let out a small smile at that. She really should know you better than that by now.

“Oh, no. I know that look, Y/L/N.”

“That look” meant you had a plan. And you did.

[thewordswewrite]

  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆saph’s masterlist⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍

✓ - Completed

✍︎ - WIP

* - Denotes 18+/NSFW

The List ✓ - Just like Bucky and Steve, Wanda has a list too.

Captain America: The Scarlet Winter ✓ - What if instead of Natasha, Steve’s partner in crime during the events of The Winter Soldier was young S.H.I.E.L.D agent Wanda Maximoff? AU where, after the attack where she lost her parents, Wanda was rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Follows the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Avengers: Season of the Witch ✓ - Taking down the last of HYDRA, rookie Avenger Wanda Maximoff faces her first real battle against AI Ultron and a more familiar face.Second installment in the Stars, Stripes and Chaos Magic Universe

Captain America: Chaos Rising ✍︎ - Steve and Wanda’s relationship is tested as the Avengers are faced with the impending Sokovia Accords. As Pietro’s history with Hydra becomes clearer, Wanda’s dangerous connections grow. Follows the events of Captain America: Civil War.Third installment in the Stars, Stripes and Chaos Magic Universe 

Loving and Leaving ✓ - Kate Bishop is not one to back down from a fight, even if it means following a black widow assassin around the country. When it comes to revenge, Yelena is all too familiar. AU where Yelena’s hit on Clint is successful. — (or 5 times Yelena ran away +1 time Kate ran with her)

Look My Way* - ✍︎ (Sex Worker!Steve Rogers x F!Reader) When it comes to dollar signs and business deals, you know a lot but as for matters of the heart, well, you know very little. When a scantily clad Steve Rogers stumbles into your life, you decide to pay for all the help you can get. (Pretty Woman AU)

DISCLAIMER: All writing is original and is not to be reposted, reuploaded or translated. I do not own any of the affiliated characters or properties.

[ashittyfanficblog]

Scarlet [Worick Arcangelo]

[WARNING- PHYSICAL ABUSE, MURDER, SEX, SWEARING, IMPLIED RAPE]

Also, I’ve tried to make this better than it was but I do not think it worked lol   There’s a POV change. 

"Hey," You whispered into the phone, twirling the wire around your finger. "Are you free today?"

"That depends." Worick said and you could hear the grin in his voice, way too familiar with his manerisms. "How much are you paying?"

"Much more than the last time." And you would, money represented no issue to you. “You might even get a big, big tip. I know how much you like big money, dear.”

"What about your hubby?"

"Don't care." And you really didn't. He was a cheating bastard and you hated him more than anything in the world. You probably would have left a long time before if you weren’t just a little bit afraid.  "When can I pop in?"

"In two hours." You heard that familiar sound of a lighter, a deep inhale you could almost feel down to the tip of your toes.

"See ya." You grinned, hanging up quickly at the sound of footsteps behind you.

A few hours later, you were on your way to visit your favorite handyman. Worick had a way with his words, hands and body that you revisited every few days or weeks for a reason.

Worick watched the scarlet clad woman walk to the building. Her hips never swayed, she never wished to seduce- it just wasn’t her thing. (Name) (surname) was one of his more genuine clients. Many times, she came to him with a split lip or bruises all over her body- all because she was blunt and honest to her good-for-nothing husband. Worick had to admit that he liked the spark in her pretty eyes, how she did not choose words even in the face of her husband.

Worick could see the black eye easily, the way she kept the weight off of the right leg and the stiffness in her hips. Yet, (name) held herself proudly, back as straight as possible with all the pain she felt. Her pretty, pretty eyes rose and connected with his blue one. A grin stretched her lovely lips and Worick answered with a smile of his own before retreating from the window.

~*~

If an outsider ever saw how Worick and (name) treated each other in bed, they'd think they were trying to kill one another. They were violent, rough to the point that blood often came to the surface and scarlet stained the bed sheets. They growled and grunted, bit and scratched, constantly fighting to get one over the other. Worick erased the bruises (name)'s husband gave her with his own markings, hiding them with his bites, with prints of his fingers... They vented their frustrations in the best way they could.

There was no time for gentle, and tender, and sweet. There was only time for oblivion, for pain to evolve into pleasure and wounds on the soul to heal- just a little bit.

~*~

Bluish-white smoke danced in front of Worick and (name)'s eyes. The cigarettes left a bitter taste on their tongues and swollen lips, lingering at the back of their throats. The quiet between them was comfortable, peaceful even. (Name)'s head was resting on Worick's shoulder and she was smiling, eyes a little less shadowed.

"Why don't you leave him?" Worick broke the silence, looking down to the top of (name)'s head.

"He has money and I have nowhere else to go." She answered. "Except here, to you. Funny how a gigolo can be someone's sanctuary."

"Does he know you come here?"

"Know?" (Name) laughed and twisted her head to look Worick in the eye, throwing a leg over his hips to straddle him. "I told him in the face that he is incompetent in bed, that the whores he's fucking never had a real man if they're satisfied with his tiny prick. I told him that I pay a man to fuck me into the mattress, make me forget his slimy touch and satisfy me." The grin slipped from her lips. "Of course, then he beats the shit out of me and fucks me. He thinks I'll break that way. How cute."

"And you married him because?"

"Because I thought he was a good man. I was so wrong."

"Need us to get rid of him?" Worick offered, grabbing onto your hips and pressing his chest to yours.

"Nah," she laughed, poking his nose. "I'll get rid of him, one way or the other."

Worick watched (name) get out of bed and put on her clothes. Scarlet, lacy panties, scarlet dress with a sweetheart neckline and black shoes with a thick heel which laced up, hair a mess. She looked completely fucked right now and Worick could not hide a proud glint in his eye. Her back was straight once again, determination shining on her face. Something dark brewed beneath the surface, in the tight press of her lips. 

He wondered who will he find in the obituaries page in the newspapers tomorrow. 

~*~

Three weeks later, (name) closed the safe. A satisfied expression lit up her stitched up face, tugging uncomfortably at her skin. Taking a gun in her gloved hand, she went to the room her husband slept in. The whole house was empty and she was ready to free herself.

The man was snoring loudly, just the right way to annoy the young woman even further. Taking careful aim, (name) pressed the trigger. Blood and brain matter spattered the walls, floor and the bed. She lowered her hand and grinned at her handiwork. It was like a work of art- beautiful and grotesque at the same time, ruining white silk.

"Burn in hell, prick." 

~*~

"I need an alibi." (Name) grinned at Worick the moment he opened the door. "I am a poor little widow now, Worick, left to brave this cruel world all alone and I need to be comforted. Of course, I'll pay you for both the alibi and comfort."

"Need some comfort because of your husband's unseemly demise?"

"Oh, yes, can't you see how shaken I am?"

[avengers1shots]

Shut Up and Punch Me

Peter Parker x Fem! Reader Warnings: some bullying (name calling), which is never cool lol Request: Girl going to school with Peter Parker, and having abilities of your own. You two are recruited for opposite teams and having to fight each-other. He is very intrigued by your fighting techniques, and when you get back to school he realizes it was you he fought. Thank you!! 

A/N: I used Y/s/n to mean your superhero name, as well as the usual Y/n for your name.

   Midtown High School was just like any other high school. You learned stuff, drowned in homework, and experienced occasional typical high school drama. There was one anomaly that set Midtown High apart from all others (except for Xavier’s of course). Two superheroes hid among the student body: you, for one, and Spider Man. You happened to see him sneak into the building in his suit once, but you hadn’t seen who was under the mask. Not yet, anyway, and it was driving you insane. You weren’t used to being caught off guard.

   When you first started patrolling NYC, you didn’t expect to run into him nearly as frequently as you did, and you certainly didn’t expect to run into him during your most important battle yet. Of course, he was always interrupting your bad-ass bad guy takedowns, but now your super cool, super critical-to-your-superhero-career, super dangerous team battle too? This had to be some sort of joke. The guy was entertaining at times, but lately everything he did rubbed you the wrong way.

   Just a week earlier, you had been stopping crimes with the friendly neighborhood Spider Man, and now you were fighting alongside Captain America, The Falcon, Scarlet Witch, The Winter Soldier, and Hawkeye to face Iron Man and his equally powerful superhero lineup. You had been instructed by Captain America to stick with him and only engage in battle if absolutely necessary, but for some reason, as soon as you saw the red and blue spandex-clad teen hero, you went for it. Wasn’t there such a thing as turf or something? If there was, the arachnid was definitely all up in yours. You tackled him to the ground, only to be greeted with the same idiotic remarks as usual. 

   “Y/s/n, fancy seeing you here. It’s almost like we planned it, I-I mean I didn’t plan it, but we run into each other so often, fighting and stuff, you know, it would almost seem like-” you cut him off.

   “Oh I know. It’s beginning to get on my nerves, web-head.” You replied rather pointedly, pinning his arms to the ground while straddling him. The position you were in was no doubt suggestive, but you were too pissed to care.

   “Is it really? Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

   “Spidey-boy?” You whispered.

   “Y-yeah?”

   “Shut up and punch me,” you continued, voice low. With that, you pushed yourself up and off of the utterly confused teenage hero, taking a defensive stance.

   “Wait, what?” Spider Man replied, getting up and scratching his head. 

   “Spidey, you are always getting on my nerves,” you say as you throw a punch aimed for his jaw. He barely manages to dodge it, as he throws his hands up in a defensive attempt. 

   “What was that for?” He asked, taken aback, as he sprung up.

   “That was for you interrupting every. single. one. of my takedowns,” emphasizing each word with another punch. “Also, for every witty line that escapes your mouth, and for being a superhero in the same freaking school as me,” you paused for breath. “Oh, and in case you didn’t notice, we’re kinda on opposite teams.”

   “Wait wait wait. Hold on,” he paused, bewildered.  “How do you know we go to the same school? I wasn’t even sure that we were the same age! You’re always so quiet when we fight and kinda angry, I guess, and I-”

   “You’re doing it again.” You cut him off.

   “Y/n?” You stopped advancing on Spider Man as Steve spoke through your earpiece.

   “Steve? What’s wrong?” You immediately responded while you tried to locate him in battle.

   “In case you forgot, I told you to not engage unless absolutely necessary, and we need your help. Now.”

   “Sorry Captain!” You quickly apologized, already beginning to run to his location.

   “Nice to see you, Y/s/n,” Steve teased.

   “Sorry, I thought you’d be able to handle yourselves,” you replied with a smirk. Just as you were about to spring back into action alongside your team, your ever-present interrupter swung down to stop right in front of you.

   “Hold on! You can’t just try to attack me, say we go to the same school, and run off!” Spider Man exclaimed, clearly exasperated. 

   “Seriously, how old are you guys? Like twelve?” Hawkeye chuckled.

   “Y/S/N, get your middle school boyfriend outta here,” The Falcon joined in.

   “Spidey,” you said, ignoring them while advancing on Spider Man, “I can run off when I want, and I did. Problem?” 

   “Yeah!”

   “Then do something about it.”

   “Tony, why’d we recruit him and not her? I like her,” said Black Widow. 

   “Fine! I will!” Spider Man then webbed your hands together.

   “Finally,” you said, rolling your eyes, as you swing your now connected fists into Spidey’s side. With the distraction of you and your frenemy’s verbal battle now dissolved, the fight truly broke out between both teams.

   Spider Man let out a groan, and as you managed to hit him already, you weren’t going to go easy on him. As much as the thought of fighting someone you knew from school might have pained you, you had to remain focused since Spidey was on the opposite team. Spider Man noticed you were lost in thought, and he decided to take advantage and webbed your ankles together. You looked down, trying to escape from the webbing that was binding your hands and legs, but your struggle made you fall forward, crashing into Spider Man and falling on top of him. (Insert flirty pun here lmao). Your face flushed slightly, but you quicly refocused and headbutted Spider Man before rolling off of him and onto your side. Squirming around quickly, your body bent so you could reach your tied hands into the pouch attached to your belt wrapped around your waist. You pulled out a knife, flipping it around to cut the webbing off of your ankles and then your wrists. Getting back up from the ground, you noticed Spidey had recovered from your  headbutt.

The two of you continued to fight, the battle between you was fairly even. You groaned out of frustration, this was becoming pointless. As much as you hated admitting it, Spider Man had the same skill level as you. The two of you were just tiring each other out - and that’s when shit hit the fan.

As soon as Ant Man grew to the size of a formidable skyscraper, Cap yelled for you to leave the airport. Knowing this fight had evolved past your ability level, and with Steve’s heads up, you managed to escape before anyone even noticed you were gone. It sucked to have bailed early, but you knew your parents would ground you forever if you weren’t home in time for school tomorrow.

   Despite the fresh bruises, and having been involved in the biggest superhero fight of the century just the day before, Peter made his way to his first period class. He couldn’t help but wonder as he wandered the familiar halls if you were at school too, and if you were wondering who he was. Of course you wouldn’t be, he thought to himself, as just the day before you had seemed extremely annoyed with him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he ran a hand through his hair. That was when he noticed Y/N, standing in the hallway trying to defend her friend. He didn’t really know Y/N well, but he shared some classes with her and thought she was a cool person, and also super pretty. She and the aforementioned friend were just minding their own business at a locker, but Y/N’s friend was being relentlessly taunted by one of the queen bees. Peter was just about to jump in when Y/N finally snapped. 

   “Look, I can insult my best friend, but if you do it again,” you stepped closer to the girl, “You’re going down.”

   “Do you remember when I asked you for your opinion? No? I don’t either,” the girl said and pushed you out of the way.

   “Do you really want your ass handed to you in front of this many people?” You asked and gestured to the crowd gathered around the two, hoping to watch the drama unfold.

   “Like you could hurt anyone more than your friend’s face does on the daily.” Following that last remark, you put your hands on either side of the girl’s face and headbutted her. 

   “You should learn to use your head more often; there’s got to be something in there other than air,” you stated, as she lay on the ground clutching her head. You turned to your friend, “Come on, let’s get to class.”

   As you walked away, Peter couldn’t help but recall the similarities between the headbutting of that girl and the one he received from Y/S/N yesterday. Y/S/N had said that they went to the same school, but what are the chances it was actually Y/N? Only one way to find out.

   “Hey, Y/N!” You turned around at the sound of your name, only to come face to face with Peter Parker. He was some totally adorable super genius that you hadn’t really ever gotten around to speaking to.

   “What’s up, Peter?”

   “I was just thinking, that that was, ya know, pretty cool of you.”

   “Thanks,” you smiled, and maybe even blushed a little.

   “Some would even say heroic.”

   “Oh I doubt that,” you smirked. Little did he know.

   “So do you headbutt people often?”

   “I wouldn’t say so,” you paused, as you narrowed your eyes, “What are you getting at, Parker?” Now it was his turn to smirk.

   “I dunno. Maybe you should shut up and punch me?” He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

   “You’re freaking Spider Man?!” You whisper-yelled in the busy hallway. He simply shrugged, his face still adorned with that smile, as he backed away and began to disappear in the crowd.

  “Hey! Parker! You can’t just say that and run off!”

  “I can run off when I want. Problem?”

- Mod Mainframe

[s-trawberryv-eins]

Details

NOT MY GIF

Inspired by ‘Details’ by Maisie Peters!

Summary: A lovesick Caroline bears witness to the relationship of Bucky Barnes and Isobel Stevens.

Warnings: Minor angst, swearing, Soft!Sam and Soft!Steve, biphobia, alcohol, mentions of sex.

Please read here before reading!

Stark!OC x Bucky Barnes

Stark!OC x Sam Wilson

Stark!OC x Steve Rogers

Word count: 3330

The Caroline Stark Series Masterlist

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Two hours. For two hours now, the team had sat in the common room getting to know Isobel Stevens. The more Caroline heard, the less she wanted to know. A twenty-something year old surgical resident from Seattle. Moved to New York after her fiance died – she’ll admit, her heart broke hearing that one. Smokes B&H Blue. It’s still unclear to Caroline how that came to be of any importance. No dad, distant mom, and she adores Widows hair, 'it's to die for 'Tasha!’. Stark didn't want to know.

What she did want to know, however, was what the hell had happened between herself and Barnes. Caroline couldn't help the bitterness that ran through her veins. After their ‘chat’ in the lab, they'd avoided each other. Not entirely, no, their living situation didn't allow for that. He’d sat with her when she was in the med bay, he’d been there for herself and the girls after their last mission. But she’d hired FRIDAY to keep constant tabs on him, just to make sure there were no surprises. Their encounters were friendly enough; they'd exchange small talk and they'd smile, and it was fine.

As unattractive as she knew it was, Caroline couldn’t bring herself to warm to his girlfriend. Pretending to get along with the Isobel wasn’t an option she was willing to go with, until she felt a stern pair of eyes glaring at her. The look on Wanda’s face told her she was acting unreasonably, despite the Maximoff girls understanding of her friend’s situation. Plastering on the best fake smile she could manage, Caroline pulled herself away from the edge of the sofa and took a place closer to the rest of the team. Ignoring the looks from Sam and Steve, she laughed along with the rest as if nothing was wrong.

 ONE WEEK LATER

Isobel was delightful, apparently.

“She’s great, Care. You should give her a chance.” The scowl received in response sent Barton running.

“I get it, Caroline. I do. But she isn’t going anywhere. This needs to stop.” Whilst Natasha’s words were true, that didn’t mean Stark wanted to hear them. Staring at the ground, she only nodded, unable to trust herself to hold it together if she looked up at the Black Widow.

It didn’t help matters that Isobel was trying quite a lot with Caroline. It led her to believe Bucky had kept quiet about whatever weird friendship they had. The Stark girl felt bitter and petty and mean, but she couldn't help it. Tight-lipped smiles and brisk conversations were enough for her at the moment.

“I’m not being mean, Sam. I offer her tea and I greet her with a smile. I use my manners and I only ever tell her to shut up in my head.” The soldier’s resolve melted away and he couldn’t help but laugh at her candour.

“Okay, okay.” Pulling the girl in for a hug, she sighed. Before Sam could continue, approaching footsteps could be heard in the distance. Sam's face dropped, and his body tensed.

“On your left.” Steve passed by the pair quickly, leaving Falcon to sprint after him, a string of curses leaving his mouth as he did so.

 THAT EVENING

“Have you had a look?" Wanda, Caroline, Bucky, and Sam all sat around the table in the common room. A film was playing in the background, but it had long since lost their attention.

Rolling her eyes but turning her head anyway to look at the Scarlet Witch, Caroline nodded. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she tapped and scrolled until she found what she was looking for. Handing the device to her friend, she sighed.

“Yes. Her name is Lola. We’ve got a cocktail date in an hour.” Wanda squealed and high-fived Sam who only looked confused.

“Wait, catch me up here?” Leaning in between the two to look at the picture of the girl on her screen, Sam whistled.

“Damn, Care. You got good taste. I didn’t know you were dating anyone.” Blushing furiously, her phone was locked and put away before anymore comments could be made. Sam only laughed, and his eyes landed on the sulky super soldier. If he saw the look of heartache on his friend’s face, he said nothing - much to Barnes’ relief.

“I am going to get ready. No more talk of this." Pointing her finger at the two on the couch, Caroline tried to seem stern and serious, but her smile betrayed her. Wandering out of the room, she fought to control her breathing. Why Wanda had brought that up in front of Barnes was beyond her. It also troubled her that he'd stayed entirely silent throughout the whole exchange. But that was none of her business now.

-

"Mr Wilson, Miss Maximoff, Miss Stark has returned home." Cringing as they heard numerous doors slamming loudly, the pair nodded and jumped to their feet. They'd heard the car door first, and safely assumed that it'd need reattaching before Pepper saw it. Sam headed to the kitchen and grabbed the largest wine glass he could find, whilst Wanda waited by the door patiently, a sympathetic smile on her face.

Caroline marched in after her date, dressed to the nines. The only indication that it'd gone poorly was the violent scowl etched onto her face. The nude midi dress clung to her figure, highlighting her curves, the red of her lips standing boldly against the soft material. Her Jimmy Choo clad feet took her straight to the kitchen, Wanda right behind her.

“You wanna talk about it?” Sam’s deep voice soft and inviting, he was an expert in coaxing the deepest emotion out of his teammates. Holding out the glass to her, he shrugged as Caroline brought the wine bottle straight to her lips, foregoing the glass all together. It was going to be a long night.

“It’s only ten ‘o’ clock, why’re you home so early? Talk to us, Care." A soft pleading came from a voice behind her. Upon hearing Steve, she knew she’d been cornered. Evading questions from not one, but three avengers just wasn’t going to happen.

“Where to start, eh? I walked in, we ordered drinks. Chatted for a while, it was fine, you know?” Pausing to take another swig of wine, Caroline couldn’t calm her nerves. “The drinks were flowing, I guess she got a bit more confident or whatever-"..."she told me I was gorgeous, that she couldn’t believe how lucky she’d got.” A few nods and murmurs of agreement came from the room, and a hint of a smile briefly appeared on her lips before dying off again. “Normally, she doesn’t go for bisexuals, she said. Bisexuals can be hard to trust, they should just commit to one gender, she said.”

 Surveying the room, her eyes landed on a lurking shadow. Barnes. Assuming he came in when Steve did, she just rolled her eyes at his complete lack of sensitivity.

“It got worse from there. She knew who I was, I hadn’t tried to hide it or anything. But then-“ laughing bitterly, sadness exploding in brown eyes “- then she told me what a shame it was that my dad was dead. So sad that he could save the world, but he wasn’t quite good enough to save himself too.” A silent tear fell down her face, but she made no move to acknowledge its presence.

“Bitch.” Maximoff only spoke the one word, before pulling out another bottle of wine and helping herself to a glass. “Wanna go dancing? I can pull an outfit together in half an hour?” With wide eyes and a desperate look, Caroline nodded her head fiercely. Without another word, Wanda headed off to get ready.

After a few kind words from Sam and Steve, they headed off to bed, a looming mission requiring extra sleep. Bucky had barely made his presence known, but now they were alone she didn't feel wrong for calling him out.

“What're you doing, Buck?" Falling down to the sofa with a huff, she patted the spot next to her, silently requesting him to sit with her.

“Sorry, Care. I didn’t want to interrupt, I came in to get a drink, but you were talking, and I didn’t want you to stop and hide it because I'd shown up." Letting her head lean gently against his shoulder, his arm instinctively wrapped itself around the girl and pulled her ever so slightly closer.

“I didn’t even want to go on the date, you know? Wanda suggested it, said at the very least I’d get laid.” An emotionless chuckle slipped from her lips, but she didn’t miss the way he tensed up as she spoke. His body language stirred such a violent mixture of emotions within her head, her heart, her stomach, that she almost felt sick. He had a girlfriend; what did he care what she was doing?

“You deserve so much better than anything that dumbass chick had to offer. You don't even like blondes, doll. Don’t force it, either. Stuff like this- like love. It finds you, ya know?" The silence that followed was deafening. The question on the tip of her tongue could do a lot of damage, but she couldn't stop herself.

“Has it found you?" Caroline didn’t mention Isobel’s name, she didn’t have to. Lifting her head up slowly, Caroline turned to face the supersoldier. Had his eyes always been so blue? As her eyes wandered all over his face, it dawned on her how close they were. As if threatening to tear straight out of her chest, her heart thundered away, blood rushing through her veins with such force she could almost hear it.  Looking into his eyes, wide and so, so clear, all rational thought completely left her. Vibranium fingers reached up, just barely grazing her cheek. His touch so soft she wasn’t sure she’d really felt it. Eyes fluttered shut, long lashes delicate on glittery cheekbones-

“Miss Stevens is requesting your location, Sergeant Barnes. Shall I tell her where you are?" Upon hearing FRIDAYs voice, they tore themselves apart. Soft touches and longing gazes now burning like fire. The flurry of emotions became too much too quickly, and Caroline left the room in a violent hurry, suddenly all the more desperate to take Wanda up on her request.

 THREE DAYS LATER

Rogers was doubled over, laughter tearing from him uncontrollably. Caroline struggled to breathe, tears streaming down her face as she attempted to quieten her giggles. After watching the video over and over again. Sam grew frustrated, snatching Stark’s phone from her hand.

“It is not funny. I saw the door, but I tripped. I tripped, damn it!”

“What’s so funny?” The familiar voice set a thousand butterflies free in her stomach. They died, however, the second she turned to look at Bucky. His hand was planted firmly on Isobel's waist, the girl dressed in one of his hoodies. Bucky took a seat next to Caroline, and Isobel took her seat right on top of him. Any trace of a smile fell quickly from Caroline’s face, her eyes meeting Sam's.

“Sorry if we were too loud last night guys; I can’t help it with this one.” Steve coughed uncomfortably, his cheeks turning a light pink at the mention of his friends extra curriculars. Caroline’s eyes remained fixed on Sam, until his eyes widened almost comically, causing her to turn around. As though she was winded suddenly, her stomach ached horrendously, and she took a moment to remember to breathe. The sergeant didn’t seem to notice however, as he was otherwise occupied shoving his tongue down the blonde’s throat. Tears pricked at the scientist’s eyes, and she was up and out of her seat in a second, Sam hot on her heels.

“Really?” Bucky pulled away just long enough to see the look of disgust on Steve’s face. Whispering something to his blonde companion, she jumped up and headed to the kitchen.

“What?” He spat, scowling at his Captain.

“In front of her? Seriously?” Barnes’ face softened, guilt seeping into his expression.

“She’s been so off with me recently. I don't get it."

“You don’t get it? Are you serious?” Steve rarely got involved in compound drama, but he truly thought Bucky was crossing a line. It hurt him to see Caroline so upset, and he was irritated by his friend’s blatant stupidity. Before Barnes could reply, Isobel landed back in his lap, a smile on her face that told Steve she was incapable of reading the room. He left the two alone, walking off with a huff.

-

“Sammy, why would he do that? Why would he do that to me?” Falcons heart broke, and he pulled the girl into his embrace. Raking his hands through her hair, he could only wonder what had gotten into the Winter Soldier.

“He’s an idiot, Care. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” As Steve approached the two, he didn’t mention the fight that seemed to have erupted in the other room.

 TWO WEEKS LATER

In the two weeks that had passed, Isobel had managed to cram her tongue down her boyfriend’s throat whilst in Caroline’s presence on two more occasions. On the plus side, it seemed that Barnes had significantly reigned in the PDA, pushing her away gently both times. Apparently, Bucky had kicked off after the first time after Steve’s scolding; not that Caroline had stuck around long enough to witness it.

After a last-minute briefing, the Stark girl had volunteered to go on a solo mission. With both Wanda and Natasha away themselves, she was finding herself feeling bored and without company more often than she'd like. It couldn’t hurt to have some time away from the insufferable Barnes and his insufferable girlfriend. Caroline knew she was being dramatic, she simply didn't care.

It was a two-day mission in London; an undercover reconnaissance trip. Easy. It seemed she was more comfortable behind the scenes; updating tech, stitching wounds, and providing them with the means to succeed. But Steve had insisted she train up at the very least - and she couldn’t find a good enough reason to decline.

After suiting up and bidding goodbye to Captain Rogers, Stark boarded the jet and settled in, intending to spend the flight clearing her head and prepping thoroughly for the mission. Nerves settled in her stomach, knocking her slightly sick. The legacy left behind by her father was an impossible one to live up to. How could she even try? Iron Man saved the world, and then he did it again, and again. Sacrificing his life for the universe. And here she was, fretting over a two-day mission; worst case scenario? She gets roughed up a bit.

"We're approaching London base, Boss.“ FRIDAY had taken to using the moniker she'd used for Tony. Another reminder that she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

 THE NEXT DAY

The recon had been a success. Posing as an agency worker had been a breeze, and the company really needed to upgrade their firewall; it’d taken her minutes to access the mainframe, and from there she could let her gadgets do all the work. Stark just had to buy herself time.

In the midst of this, however, she’d noticed an issue with her communications tech. It was her own fault really, putting too much faith in the half-tested prototype. Deciding that she’d be fine without contact home for a day or two, she forgot about it and continued with her work.

Landing the jet with confidence, Caroline headed straight for the common room.

“I don’t know. We lost her yesterday, around five. Nobody has heard anything.” Sam’s voice echoed through the corridor, the girl followed the sound until she found him and Bucky hovering outside Steve’s office. Bucky was pacing frantically, vibranium tangled up in deep brown locks.

“Who’d you lose?” Both boys turned instantly to face her. Pulling Sam in for a sideways hug, she was barely able to wrap her arm around the man before she was torn from his arms and engulfed in a bone crushing hug.

“You went offline. What happened? Are you hurt? Why did you go offline? We were worried, damn it!” Barnes spoke quickly, a harsh whisper in her ear. Confusion enveloped her; it hadn’t occurred to her that it could spark a panic. It was a simple mission, and she hadn’t had to engage once. But the fear in Bucky’s voice shocked her, and she returned his embrace slowly.

“M’sorry, Buck. It was just recon, I didn’t think you’d worry so much.” Muttering her words into his neck, Stark tried to calm his breathing, forgetting for a moment everything that was between them. "It's okay, Buck. I’m here. I’m fine. You’re okay.” Deciding to let the two have their moment alone, Wilson excused himself silently.

“Babe?"

As if being burned by fire, he pulled away from her quickly. Isobel approached, a frown on her face. Caroline couldn’t meet her gaze; nothing had happened, but the last thing she wanted to do was give the girl reason to be mad at Bucky.

“You ditched me for this?” Her tone full of distaste, frown lines deepening. “We were in the middle of a movie. She’s alive, can we go now?” But Bucky’s eyes were trained on Caroline. Feeling her face growing hot, the scientist pulled her eyes away, beginning to slowly back away from the pair.

“I need to go debrief. Nice seeing you.” She didn’t ask what happened after she left.

 LATER THAT NIGHT

“What about her? She's cute." Eyes following the curvy redhead to her right, Sam laughed at his friend’s ability to concentrate.

“Redheads aren’t my thing, Care. You on the other hand seem to have a soft spot for 'em." Rolling her eyes at his insinuation, Caroline gestured for the bartender to keep the drinks flowing. "C'mon, you're usually a better wing-woman than this! What’s up with you?” Cocking her head to the side, the Stark girl squinted her eyes and stared him down.

After a moments silence and a broody look shared between the two, Sam spoke up again.

“They broke up. He dumped her.” Words failed her entirely, so she reached for the two shots of tequila the bartender had placed in front of her. Pausing as she offered one to Sam, she quickly drew her hand back, throwing them both back. The liquor burned, but she welcomed it.

“What about the dark-haired chick across the bar who’s been eyeing you up all night?” Wilson’s head span around so fast she worried he’d hurt himself. The low whistle that left his lips told her that this mission was also a success.

-

“What’re we watching? It’s three am, you know?”

“Eternal sunshine. Me and Sam got back but I didn’t wanna sleep yet.” Tugging the blanket tighter around herself, Caroline pulled her feet up to her chest  to allow Bucky room to sit.

“I know he told you.”

"It's none of my business, Sarge.” Stopping him short, she tried to stand her ground. He owed her nothing, not an explanation, not a reason, nothing. But she asked anyway. “Why’d you do it?”

Inhaling sharply, the soldier reached out and grabbed the girl’s legs gently, setting them down across his lap. Tequila fuelled thoughts scorched Caroline's mind as the silence grew longer, tension thick and heavy.

“She said I had to choose. Her, or you." Eyes were trained on the film but fingers, both metal and flesh, worked at the soft skin of her feet. "Apparently our friendship is weird, and inappropriate." Neither of them made a comment to deny it; how could they, when weeks earlier they'd almost crossed a line they couldn't return from on the very sofa they sat on now.

“I chose you, if you hadn’t figured it out. I dunno what it means, but I’ll always choose you, Caroline.”

[ao3feed-petermj]

by ChocolateXMyMouth

Its summer break for Peter, which gives Tony an idea - instead of letting him waste his summer away indoors (he knows he wouldn't), how about letting him join the Avengers? The team will surely take care of him!

However, in the process, Peter surprisingly ends up growing closest with the red-clad girl few people dare to approach, except the team. Let's find out how. (Everyone is happy-AU! :))

Words: 1387, Chapters: 1/16, Language: English

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Black Widow (Movie 2020)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Peter Parker, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Vision (Marvel), Nick Fury, Ophelia Sarkissian, Tony Masters (Marvel), T'Challa (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Betty Brant

Relationships: Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Wanda Maximoff & Avengers Team, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker

Additional Tags: Fluff, Family Feels, Male-Female Friendship, Light Angst, Civil War? What's That, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Precious Peter Parker, Yeah that's the story

[neathbound-fiends]

The poll responses were interesting to me, but I've decided to ask the more important question:

there is no bald/nuance/other option, if you wanna see the results you've either gotta pick your poison or wait for a week

[thorsterstrudle]

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge (1/?)

Steve x Reader

Summary: While abroad for a mission, Steve pays a visit to the Moulin Rouge, where a long-extinguished flame is reignited.

Warnings: None in this part

STEVE

Steve looked around, unsure if this is what Fury meant by blending in with the population during his mission. Surely the people of France would see him and know him immediately, even if he was Captain AMERICA. Right?

The citizens of Paris milled around as the sun began to set, completely unaware of the super-soldier in their midst. Several women in classic burlesque clothing stood in windows along the street, waving at Steve and showing him just a bit more attention than the other men and women walking around.

Steve looked up to see the name of the place: The Moulin Rouge.

He’d heard about this place back in the forties, but couldn’t imagine that it would exist over seventy years later.

Looking from one side to the other, Steve paused at the doors before following another man, this one dressed in khakis and a polo, through the entrance. When he ducked through the second doorway, Steve felt his breath catch.

Though the room was big, with a stage in the middle, the low lighting gave it a cozy, mysterious feel. The red haze captured Steve as another scantily clad woman led him to a front-row table, where a candle illuminated his face, which was masked carefully in a façade of neutrality.

Steve waited for another man to be seated next to him, but the room faded to black, leaving Steve alone at the front table.

The music started and Steve vaguely recognized it as a song Tony liked to tease Natasha with. “Black Widow,” he thought, smiling to himself at the joke.

READER (Y/N) took a deep breath as the music started, waiting for the lights to go up. Her corset, scarlet and black, cut into the skin at her hip, but she ignored it, like she did every night.

“Just get through this set,” (Y/N) thought to herself, “just get through this set and you can tell Will you’re done here.”

(Y/N) had left the U.S. for Paris what seemed like a millennia ago. In truth, it was only seventy years ago, after she lost everything. She grew up holding back one boy and protecting the other. Steve and Bucky. She could barely remember their faces now.

They were both dead, long dead, now. And she had to live with her secret for the rest of her way-too-frickin’-long life.

After fleeing Brooklyn following Steve’s death and Bucky’s disappearance, (Y/N) started off in London, where she met Ezekiel. She was naïve. She trusted him. She let him convince her that the people he worked for weren’t affiliated with the Nazis.

Of course, she found out the truth when he and several of his friends experimented on her. Serums and mixtures mingled with her blood for days on end. When she showed no changes, Ezekiel slit her throat himself.

Then they tossed her into the Thames.

She woke up, freezing and soaked to the bone on some random shore east of London. When she brought her hand to her neck, there was no sign of a fatal wound, not even a scar.

For years, decades, (Y/N) lived, never aging, always healing, and moving from country to country. She made money any way she could. But for the past decade, the Moulin Rouge had been her home. Now, her lack of wrinkles was growing suspicious, and it was time to move on.

This would be her last night at the Moulin Rouge, dancing for men who could never give her what she wanted.

STEVE

The lights went up, revealing three women on the stage, each dressed in a tight corset and thigh-highs. Steve swallowed hard, wondering if this was a decent place to be, if he should get up and leave.

But he didn’t, no, he couldn’t, and he didn’t know why.

READER

(Y/N) exhaled as the lights went up and she began her routine.

High kick here, step, hip shake there, step. On and on, it went, until the time came for entertaining the close-up patrons. She headed to the closest table, where she saw the outline of a large man.

As she grew closer, the stage lights gave way to the darkness off-stage, slowly revealing the man she was about to give a lap dance. She smiled at the man until she saw his face.

“Is this some sick joke?” She thought. (Y/N) struggled to maintain her composure as she walked to the man, whose face had lost all neutrality and now showed full-on shock.

His baby blue eyes widened as he looked at her, recalling a time in his life that seemed a billion years ago.

“(Y/N)?” Steve said, no longer caring about maintaining his neutral façade. “Steve? You’re dead.”

“Obviously not.”

Tag List (TAG LIST IS OPEN!)

@practicallybec

[glitterandrocketfuel]

YBC Hot Takes: Death Valley

This one took me a while! As the story comes closer to the final confrontations, the plots are getting more complex, and more characters make their appearance as Patrick works through the understanding that "solo career" doesn't mean you're only answerable to or influenced by yourself.

Sacrificed in a crime of passion and despair by a demonic Patrick caught in brainwashed hallucinations, Joe takes a journey to the underworld, while Pete and Andy are stymied by the authorities and rescued by a mysterious double-agent. 

Death Valley - When you Walk Through Hell, You Come Out On Fire

Cutting off your creative instincts isn't as easy as depriving it of oxygen. Creativity is an extremophile, and it can survive in adverse conditions because humans are stubborn that way, and creative humans, even moreso. Let's go down into the Underworld below the cut to learn what happens when the Devil meets Joesus...

Patrick's Creative Spark is set free to ascend to the Good Place. But wait--not quite--because while Patrick thought he'd severed that part of him, these ties run deep, and they constantly renew themselves. The kid-herald (fan) hijacks his elevator to heaven and the room is filled with ruddy, infernal light as Joe is pulled down and away from the light.

Cut back to the real world. The first symbol we see is the heavy-looking, official-looking ring of (jailer's) keys on the hip of a (gatekeeper) cop. All the tools of an arrest--the fingerprinting, the mugshot. Yes, we can giggle at the sloppy way they hung the height chart because we all know Patrick is not that tall, but then again, this is a distorted point of view where all your vital statistics are scrutinized and over-analyzed and under the microscope and let's not forget how Celebrity makes those in its spotlight Larger Than Life (including their shortcomings and weaknesses).

The clumsy hook that his Confidence (Pete) jury-rigged onto the stump of his hand is forcibly removed (his tool is taken away, as incomplete a substitute as it was) and his still-wounded stump is fingerprinted. Ridiculous on the surface, but underneath, this is a sort of bastardized stigmata exposed to be poked and prodded and manhandled by the gatekeepers as he is incarcerated and categorized and chained.

In the dark and shadowy interrogation room, his Integrity and Confidence await cross-examination from the gatekeepers. Locked away from the outside world, where their freedom is curtailed by the gatekeepers and dependent on how they interact with those gatekeepers. As they're trying to make a case to the skeptical inquisitors, the zombie-like, broken Patrick (devoid of his Creativity and cut off from his Integrity and his Confidence) shuffles in chains towards the holding cell where the gatekeepers lock him up into a little, pre-defined prison box and leave him there.

Meanwhile, Joe has descended into a hellishly-lit room filled with all sorts of distracting temptations of the senses--scantily-clad dancing girls in high heels, ostentatiously-decorated walls and luxurious furnishings, and refreshments served with cleavage and a smile.

I feel like it's important to note here that Joe is extremely happy having a frosted donut and more interested in a swig and a smoke than, say, motorboating the generous and available cleavages here.

It's one of the consistent trademarks of the Fall Out Boy video aesthetic that these guys are Awkward Around Girls and in point of fact, the women in their videos, even when they're cast in objectified roles, are never themselves objectified, and almost always, the hallmarks of objectification are trope-subverted and played for laughs, gender-flipped, or lampooned outright.

Just as he's partaken, Joe looks up to see the rock god of sinners himself, Tommy Lee, descending the stairs.

Here we can say that Joe turned his focus to his metal band during the hiatus and all the trappings of Hell resemble the 80's metal aesthetic (right down to the donuts as an obscure Van Halen/David Lee Roth reference), but since this is about Patrick and his walk through the Valley of the Shadow of I Miss My Band, Joe as Patrick's Creative Spark, cut off from Patrick himself, wounded by rejection and criticism and failure, has gone to ground in the underworld.

It's important to note here that in most mythologies, the Walk Through the Underworld is not, in fact, a final destination, but rather the journey that must be taken by a god or hero in order to unlock their greatest powers to their full potential. And indeed, it's a walk down a dark tunnel to meet the scariest devil in the underworld--your own bad self.

Tommy Lee, rock legend and fallen god is Joe's future metal self, distilled into the base elements of rock and roll, recursively defined in human shape. Tommy Lee is what happens when there's no direction, no boundary, no guidance placed on that creative urge, where it follows its distractions, sometimes to dizzying heights, but sometimes getting lost in itself until it becomes self-indulgent and inwardly directed and exists only to serve its own ego (kiss the ring, Joe. Get the tattoo that shows the blind/dead smiley with the horns instead of the crown and pyramid).

Back in the jail cell, boxed in by the industry gatekeepers who penalize you when you don't fit into the neat little boxes, Patrick's a caged animal, observed through a small mirror (reflection) by another, unseen inmate for the briefest of moments.

His Integrity and Confidence are not giving the answers the gatekeepers want, and they're getting angry. But a small ray of hope comes in the form of a cryptic note slid under the door, referencing she who wears the crown but is no princess.

In terms of the Parts of Patrick, Patrick is hemmed in by the expectations of the industry, the pressures bearing down on him over performance expectations, and a dwindling financial investment (he said he was never in danger of going broke, but we all know that if you've ever been poor in America, you never really shake the feeling that you're always one disaster away from going right back there).

He's stifled (choked) his Creativity and it's gone to ground in a self-indulgent downward spiral.

His Confidence and Integrity aren't enough to impress the Gatekeepers, but they aren't out of the game entirely. It turns out that the industry has chewed up and spit out others.

Patrick's core selves can learn from their forebears by listening to a woman who wore a crown, but was never a princess. Ladies and gentlefans, I'd like to introduce you to Queen Courtney Love. If anyone had reason to want to torch the music industry and fans, it's the Widow Cobain, the Scarlet Woman, the Trash Queen who took the haterade spewed at her by an industry and a public that blamed her for a tragedy that wasn't her fault, and not only did she accept it, she wore it like a crown. Through it all, she made music of it, mocking the celebrity culture, mocking their caricatures of her and playing so far into the trope that she came out the other side.

Seriously, Hole put out amazing girlpunk and made such great videos and so much of it was underrated and overshadowed by Courtney Love's tabloid drama (echoing the situation of someone else we know, hmmm?).

In this interpretation, though, Courtney severed from her other Selves and failed to reunite. Much like Patrick, she became a slave to the Cult and eventually, its leader. Her Spark, the part of her that was never spoiled from the outside, is instead working to sabotage the cult from within and reaching out to other sparks like Confidence, but she really connects with Integrity--of keeping yourself in the face of the caricature everyone else throws back at you (this is an important internal step for Patrick as he leaves behind the particular malleability of youth in an industry that has no use for malleable grown-ups).

Pete and Andy arrive at the mystery woman's garage (band) hideout. She reveals the extent of the conspiracy that took hold of Patrick and her status as a double-agent in the anti-music cult. She instructs Pete and Andy in the cult's inner workings, gives them targets, then arms them (with really crazy-cool instrument-weapons). As she's pondering the reach of the cult, Andy returns for a stolen moment of affection before departing once more.

Back in the Underworld, Patrick's Creativity is indulging in all the vices including the perception-altering (and let us all just love these little muffins because in the middle of all the gyratin' wimmin, Joe exchanges his best smoochies with his French bulldog).

He's jamming with the Prince of Darkness and shredding with the rock god and plumbing the intricacies of an unbridled, unbound state of existence. Two charming ladies are particularly attentive when Joe takes his unholy communion and descends further into distorted perception. In this tableau thus far, the party has been Joe, Tommy Lee, and a lot of ladies, with a few Men In Suits looking on from the balconies. But one of Joe's ladies gives a Look that can't be accidental and the situation changes.

Into this altered-state of decadence come the sobering (literally, maybe?) Men In Suits. One of whom trades a girl a hot dog (What kind of Hot Dog Hell is this? Nevermind, we're just going with "it's Fall Out Boy"). The change in atmosphere reveals the ladies to be heralds hovering protectively around Joe as he begins to sober up while the party takes a subtle turn.

Meanwhile, Patrick's cell is approached by the gatekeeper again, only this time flanked by two familiar Vixens, one bearing Patrick's hook. As his cell is opened, his Creativity is dragged back out of the Underworld by the heralds.

Patrick is terrified of the Vixens, but the gatekeepers and Vixens are working together--both seek to turn Patrick into a tool for their own ends, and as long as he's separated from his soul-parts, he's powerless to do anything to stop them.

Patrick's Confidence has been armed with knowledge of the moving parts (and let's be honest--Pete has always been very cognizant of the moving parts of fame, celebrity, attention, and buzz, and how they affect your reception and others' perceptions) and the weapon to cut through the bullshit.

His Integrity has Connected with a kindred spirit that provides him with a roadmap that just might lead him out of the darkness.

Finally, having spent enough time down there licking its wounds and dulling its pain, Patrick's Creative Spark is called out of the Underworld. He has seen his own indulgences taken to the extreme--he's been warned--but by the same token, that time spent away from the slings and arrows of the world has allowed his Creative Spark to emerge with new perspective and even greater power for having walked through Hell and come out on fire.

[themonolithicmystique]

A Black widow and Scarlet Witch hyper hourglass and GTS growth competition piece. Taking place during the events of the Civil war airport fight?

“OK, anybody on our side hiding any fantastic and shocking abilities they’d like to disclose?”

Things may have gotten out of hand.  Having been sequestered in the Avengers complex and kept out of the loop by Vision for the last few days, Wanda Maximoff wasn’t quite sure how her failure to stop Crossbones’ suicidal detonation in a non-lethal manner in Lagos led to her standing on an airport tarmac fighting a good half of the earthbound-Avengers and several other superheroes she didn’t know.  That one of the heroes supporting Captain America had just grown to sixty feet in height only barely added to the strangeness of the situation.  All she knew for certain was that helping Cap and his fugitive friend reach the Quinjet might clear their names and put a stop to all the madness ripping through the team.  At least, she hoped that was the case - the means by which doing so would ACTUALLY help remained shaky and unclear in her head.

Still, certain or uncertain about the particularities, she had to do her part in this fight, and for now that meant defending this Scott from Iron Man’s forces.  Extending her neural pathways beyond her fingertips and into the kinetic potential of her opponents, she pulled War Machine out of the sky as he made a beeline for the giant hero, sending the red-and-blue clad man dangling from his leg flying after him.  Tony fired a barrage of mini-missiles at Scott’s face, so Wanda redirected them towards the ground, where they just scarcely missed the dark figure racing towards her.  Unwilling to divert her focus for too long, she simply sent him rocketing thirty feet into the air, and raced to a new hiding spot.  With the focus her powers required, it wasn’t wise to engage with more than one opponent at once, much less remain out in the open.

As she crouched beneath a truck (one she hoped nobody saw fit to use as a bludgeon any time soon), she ran a mental tally in her head of the heroes on Tony’s side, trying to work out if anyone DID have such hidden powers that might turn the tide of battle.  Tony and Rhody she knew relied entirely on their suits, which could fit an impressive array of weaponry within their stores, but never anything exceedingly destructive for fear of harming inno... She shook her head and tried to keep the thought far from her mind.  These two newcomers were almost entirely unknown to her, yet from what they demonstrated during the fight up to now they seemed to lack much more beyond enhanced strength, reflexes, and durability.  One of their number had jokingly referred to the dark-suited one as “your highness,” which might mean the threat of an army arriving, but she rather doubted it, given the singlemindedness with which he assaulted Cap’s friend.  Vision... they had exchanged notes on their powers and their relation to the gem within his forehead multiple times.  If he had seen fit to hide any powers from her, she didn’t want to know how devastating they might be.

And as for Natasha...

Black Widow.  Climbing up a series of shipping crates and making a run for Scott, currently entangled with the red-clad hero crawling over his face.  Everyone else was too busy with their own scraps to have kept track of her or noticed her quick ascent.  If Wanda traced her movements correctly, she was heading straight towards the component of Scott’s suit that stored whatever he adjusted to shrink and grow.  If she got to that and messed with it, she might take Cap’s best asset out of the fight and turn the tide of battle to Tony’s favor.

Nobody else could help.  Wanda ducked out from under the truck, aimed a burst of electrical impulses, and hurled right as Nat leapt for Scott.  The two collided in midair and sent Nat flying with a high-pitched yelp... alongside a burst canister of some rapidly evaporating red liquid.

Scott froze in place upon hearing Natasha’s scream, and promptly received a sharp punch between the eyes from the man crawling over his face.  With a shake of his head, he flung the other hero off, and took several hurried steps towards Black Widow’s prone body.  “Oh my god, are you OK?  What am I saying, you’re not OK, I am SO sorry, we’ve gotta... I gotta...”  He took several deep breaths, staggered backwards, then boomed, “EVERYBODY GET CLEAR, SHE’S GONNA BLOW!!!”

Her ears ringing from the giant’s bellow, Wanda could not properly tune-in to the frequency of Iron Man’s comms, and so missed Tony’s clarifying question.  She certainly heard Scott’s response, though.  “..VIOLENTLY IMPLODE IF YOU’RE NOT IN A PROPERLY SEALED CONTAINER!  AND THAT’S WHEN THEY’RE SET TO SHRINK AND YOU GET A LOW DOSE!  SHE JUST TOOK A WHOLE VIAL OF PARTICLES SET TO GROW AND EXPANDED TO MY HEIGHT!  WE’VE GOTTA MOVE, NOW!”

Utter chaos.  The fight and all reasons for it forgotten, the heroes scrambled about the tarmac, uncertain whether they should follow Scott’s instructions, take advantage of his panic to get a blow in, or find some means of helping Natasha before she... did what Scott implied.  Flying bodies collided with one another, personal fights paused before splintering into smaller conflicts, and the area around the fallen superspy remained clear of activity.  Lurking outside her hiding place, Wanda noticed a series of dancing red energy pulses sparking and twisting about Natasha’s body.  Whatever Scott used to grow, it was interfacing with the residual effects of Wanda’s powers, and could create a result far worse than Black Widow simply exploding.  She couldn’t allow this to happen again, not so soon after her attempts to help led to so much death.

To a chorus of shocked voices shouting her name, Wanda raced towards Black Widow, skidded upon her knees to a halt, and began trying to disentangle the red liquid from her body.  It proved difficult, for its dissipation in the atmosphere had also caused it to adhere to her cellular structure in ways she didn’t quite understand.  Small bursts of energy inside a single pore felt like a nuke detonating in her face again and again and again.  Every time she pulled apart one relationship, fifty more appeared across the same square inch.  Worse still, Wanda felt the same sparking begin to take place within her own skin, and tried to spread her efforts across two bodies to ensure her own survival.  With her attention divided, mistakes piled up, and soon she was doing more to promote an aggressive spread of the energy than contain or dissipate it.

Her eyes filling with tears at the prospect of her failure repeating, Wanda barely noticed Natasha stir, groan, and open her eyes.  “Maximoff?  What’s going on?”

“Do not move, do not move, please do not move...” she begged the prone spy.

“Huh?”

Nat propped herself up on her elbow, and the pair exploded.

Except... not quite in the way she expected.  Everything became a blur as Wanda’s temperature shot up by what felt like several million degrees.  The sounds of metal shearing and stone crumbling filled her ears, alongside the sensation of something hard yet incredibly fragile dragging across her knees.  A sense of heaviness spread across her entire torso, and she fell forward onto an exceedingly soft surface from the sudden weight.  It was sensory overload, far too much for even one capable of extending her senses across a miles-wide area to process.  Perhaps this was what exploding felt like to her, the sense of your body impacting everything all at once before you realize you’re actually in a billion pieces...

Not so.  Just as suddenly as the nightmare started, it ended, and Wanda found herself kneeling amidst the rubble of what looked like a tiny model of the tarmac.  The reality of her situation flashed across her brain instantly, but she was not ready to consciously admit what happened, and so failed to consciously register it.  Instead, she took several deep breaths, and found each exhalation led to a deep thudding sensation across her abdomen.  A quick glance downwards revealed her chest had expanded to ludicrous proportions, spreading across her lap and straining her scarlet corset to its absolute limit.  That same glance revealed the only reason her breasts weren’t touching the ground was their resting place upon Natasha’s equally strained black spandex, full of a similar amount of chest... though slightly less than Wanda’s perhaps?

She made an effort to back off, and ceased her efforts due to a combination of the crunching sound behind her, and the tactile confirmation that her backside had swollen to match her breasts.

Wanda was huge, a curvaceous bombshell well beyond anything she knew was naturally possible, and from the way Natasha’s legs dangled in the air, she matched her opponent (almost) pound-for-pound, literally.  Her efforts to disable the liquid splashed across Natasha must have saved them from fatal detonation, but also led to their flesh multiplying in a downright ludicrous manner.  Would they be able to live normal lives after this?  Would they even be able to engage with the fight again, assuming it was still on?

The fight!  Tony might have taken advantage of the chaos generated to stop Cap and imprison his friend again!  She had to get back into things, and make sure everything was alright, ridiculous proportions or no!  With a mighty heave, she brought herself to her feet... and finally registered that she stood three-hundred feet tall, the entire tarmac ruined beneath her growing body, her burst boots crushing two airplanes beneath their tread each.  The other Avengers were mere specks to her vision, with Scott barely coming halfway up her shins.  She could barely tell one from the other, much less participate in the conflict.  It seemed a moot point, as they were all simply standing there, staring up at her massive form, but...

Natasha stirred once more, finally able to rise to her feet with the enormous weight of Scarlet Witch’s chest lifted.  Tiny burst seams littered her suit, and her legendary control over her body’s movements seemed completely thrown off by the excess weight spread across her form.  She glanced down at the ground bug-eyed, then her own chest with even wider eyes, and then into Wanda’s equally startled face.  “Do you... do you want to tell me what just happened?”

“I...” Wanda started, startling herself with just how much louder her voice was than the near-deafening boom of Scott’s mere minute prior.  “I attempted to stop you... and then to save your life... and now we... I am sorry...”

She reached out a hand to try and grasp Widow about her shoulder, only for a small red spark to emanate from her fingertips.  The pair suddenly shot up another five feet each, and their curves surged outwards by a relative two inches.

It was getting hard to think.  The air was fine, but Wanda couldn’t stop breathing in shot, violent bursts.  Her outfit constrained her every inch, chest and rear practically ding to burst free of their confines.  So much had happened in the last several minutes, she just couldn’t get a grip on any of it, and she couldn’t read Black Widow’s expression, or figure out where to put her feet, or tell what to do at all but stand here stunned and wait for some help, or...

Impulsively, she took a step backwards, and almost squashed Iron Man and War Machine underfoot.  Black Widow, who had directed her attention to the miniature superheroes down below, determined who scattered based on their movement patterns, and made a connection in her head.  “You... tried to blow me up!  And then tried to get big in order to crush all of us!”  Wanda blinked in confusion, sure Nat didn’t normally talk like this.  “And now we’re BOTH huge!  Well, I’m... I’m not going to let you step on my teammates!”  No, definitely not talking like herself at all.

Wanda’s thoughts didn’t get much further, as Black Widow pounded her right across the face.  Instead of making contact, though, her fist swiped across the surface, inches away from skin, and caused the two of them to grow once more.  Their suffering clothing popped several more seams, and an entire relative foot of cleavage appeared across Natasha’s front.  She didn’t seem to notice, though, as she swiped her leg across Wanda’s missing again and inducing even more growth.  It seemed as if the pair were unable to make contact with one another without promoting the same strange interaction of Pym Particles and Wanda’s neuro-electric connection to energy that caused them to achieve such heights in the first place.  Nothing so eloquent or coherent as that thought occurred to Wanda, though; she just knew Black Widow was attacking her based on some misconceived understanding of the situation, and in her addled state she decided to strike back... only to promote yet more growth.

Whether or not Captain America and Iron Man resolved their differences mattered little to the newly-birthed giantesses.  As they grappled with one another and attempted to get at least one good blow in, their bodies surged upwards and outwards.  In less than a minute, their clothing went from slightly strained to heavily tattered to completely shredded, leaving them one thousand feet tall, completely nude, and still growing.  Their breasts hung down past their navels, juggling flesh slapping against juggling flesh and creating yet another catalyst for expansion, while their rears and hips widened to two, three, four times the breadth of their shoulders.  Neither seemed willing to cease the fight, which lost any and all sense of reason faster than the conflict they so recently left behind.  All that remained was a desire to hit and hit back, soon to be replaced with genuine love of the sensation of growth, and perhaps even a lust for one another...

But that’s for the sequel, innit?

[spideyhoee-blog]

Tony Loves Ice Cream

Okay but listen...

At first, Ben&Jerry's makes a flavor for each of the Avengers, because obviously people would buy those.

There's Scarlet Cherry Witch

Red, White, and Blue Captain Crunch

Hulk Smashing Mint Chocolate Chip

Iron Clad Irish Cream

And so on

Tony tries them all, but of course really likes Iron-Man's flavor so he mostly eats that one, with a bit of Bruce's flavor as a guilty pleasure.

But then he gets a call asking to use his name and since Pepper actually gets the call and relays the message to Tony (who's only partially listening) he ends up saying yes to god knows what.

But then when he's at the grocery store there's a new flavor and it's called

Stark Raving Hazelnuts

and it has a picture of Tony on the container. Tony is shocked that they would want to make a flavor from him, he's definitely not as great as say Black Widow (who still hasn't gotten her own flavor). He's touched honestly that people would think Tony himself is good enough to have his own flavor.

And from that moment on, all he buys is that flavor, keeping the freezer stocked full of Stark Raving Hazelnuts.

Bonus:

The avengers think it's sweet at first that that's the only flavor in the freezer, but they start getting sick of just that ice cream so they always ask Tony to get their flavors too.

"You're not the only one here Stark."

Of course none of them really care that much, but like to tease Tony.

Then one day they all go back to their rooms to find a mini freezer stocked full of their own flavors.