#scott lang x reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

was binge reading under your wing au and had an idea for it

What if the boys were playing mario party and reader sits on the dick who has the highest points

(lowkey they get her high & theyre not allowed to bust in her)

a/n: no but the way intox kink is so high on my list of things i wanna play around with these guys!! you get meeeee! you’ve hacked my computer and looked at my nasty notes! ♡ 

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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when your stepbro had texted you saying that he had gotten his hands on the newest game and was inviting you over for the first official time he and the rest of the frat got to play with it, sweet little you had of course assumed that that was just it. you would just go over there, play some nintendo, laugh till you cried, nothing else whatsoever 

how fucking wrong could you have been

it was Marc who was the one who suddenly conjured a joint from his stash. 

your eyes went wide when you realised that it wasn’t just a hand rolled cigarette that the frat boy was about to light in the middle of the living room. 

now, you’d never done any drugs before, much less seen any in real life, not even a simple joint, so naturally you instantly became paranoid, looking over your shoulder because what if an officer of the law suddenly burst down the door and saw you all doing illegal shit? it wasn’t gonna happen, but the ache still bloomed in your stomach 

then they say all of this stuff about how you should try it for the first time in a safe space around people who you know, which calms you enough to timidly take the blunt when it is handed to you

the first hit makes you cough like crazy and you quickly begin to feel strange, but the guys then just nudge you and say that if you take another drag then you’ll feel better. glancing to your stepbrother, he of course is all in as well and just lulls you into a false sense of security, assuring you that everything will be alright and how you should trust him since he’s your big stepbro after all

so you quickly turn into a giggly mess, all foggy and pliant for them to toss you to whoever wants you in their lap

maybe at first it gets you so hazy and turned on that you unconsciously start humping the thigh that you’re sitting on, like you’re in fucking heat or something

or maybe it’s the guys who take the opportunity to tease you as soon as you get all fuzzy. light caresses all over your body, so light that you don’t even register them through your high. tickling your little nipples as they poke through your shirt. basically just teasing you till you’re all drippy for them and trembling on top of them like they’ve edged you for hours. 

they don’t really take any of their clothes off, just unzips and such for the ✨important✨ parts of them to spring forth

but they do rip all of your clothes off, not that you really notice till it’s way too late because of how brainless they’ve got you

now, i’m imagining that since you’re all melted, the perfect little pocket pussy for them all, the position you’re often moulded into is like you in their lap, your back completely melted back against them, your legs folded up against your chest while their arms are wrapped around you and their just bouncing you in their laps, using you like a fleshlight

that vibe or they make you cockwarm them if they still gotta have their hands free to play 

they probably tried to get you to move on your own, but you are just way too high to be able to do it, so they settle for just the feeling of your weepy cunt clenching tightly around them as you try to keep up with the bright colours flashing on the tv

oooorrrr maybe someone who isn’t playing (because there are tons of them and there's a limit to how many players there can be at once) can swoop in and help move you. you know, just dudes being dudes, bros being bros and getting each other off, jerking your pal off with the pussy that you’re all head over heels for lol

now, your eyelids feel so so heavy, and at one point you finally loose the battle, but then when you blink them open again, it takes you a while to notice that you’re sitting on someone else’s cock

and if your whining gets too much and starts messing with their concentration of the game, then they just grumble for you to shut up before the person next to you suddenly grabs your hair and folds you over to silence your whimpers and fill up your mouth 

they also get you to say all sorts of nasty things that you’d normally blush and put your foot down at if they tried to make you repeat such filth when you were sober

and if all of this happens after they’ve trained you to take multiple of them at once in your warm little holes, well then you best believe that they make you cockwarm multiple of them at once, filling up all of your holes with at least one dick at a time

now, your stepbro may not have allowed his friends to finish in you that day, but that just means that instead of it leaking out of you, you just get covered in cum :) 

and maybe at the end, the next morning when you wake up, you don’t remember too many details from what happened, just that you played that new game and then you must have fallen asleep on the couch… strange… maybe the guys will just have to remind you then of all of the things that actually happened while you were stoned out of your mind…

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ericshoney]

Got your back ~ Peter Parker

Summary: During the fight between team Iron Man and team Captain America, you get injured in a cross fire, but Peter is quick to help you even if you are on "opposite" teams.

Warnings: Possible swearing, fighting, blood, injuries, crying.

Reader's age: 16

The wind whipped my hair as I landed, the metallic tang of jet fuel sharp in the air. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the roar of engines and the sickeningly familiar thud of super-powered impacts. I was sixteen, barely out of high school, and here I was, standing on an airport tarmac, about to enter a fight between heroes. My heroes.

The air crackled with energy, a symphony of escalating destruction. War Machine’s repulsor blasts streaked through the sky, met by Hawkeye’s unerring arrows. Cap shouted orders, his voice carrying surprising clarity above the din. My allegiance was with him – with individual choice, with the notion that power shouldn't be entirely dictated by a government body. The Accords felt… wrong. An iron fist cloaked in bureaucracy.

My own power, the ability to manipulate kinetic energy, felt both exhilarating and terrifying in this environment. I could absorb impacts, redirect force, even generate small concussive bursts. It was a reflex now, a part of me, but this wasn't a sparring match. This was war.

"Y/n! Keep behind us!" Falcon's warning echoed as he zipped past, drawing fire from Vision. I ducked, feeling the heat wash over me as a vibrant green beam of energy seared the ground where I'd stood moments before. My instincts screamed at me to run, but my resolve solidified. I had to help.

I focused, absorbing the raw force of a falling crate that had been tossed aside like a toy by Giant-Man, then channelling it, pushing it away, sending it skidding harmlessly across the tarmac. This was different to anything I'd done before. The sheer scale, the uncontrolled power, it was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

I saw him then – Spider-Man, a blur of red and blue, zipping around, talking a mile a minute. He was on Tony Stark's side, a kid like me, but already so far out of his depth. I briefly wondered if he was as scared as I was. Then, a blast from War Machine sent me stumbling, and I had to put my full concentration into maintaining a low-level kinetic shield around myself, deflecting the minor debris that rained down around me.

The fight churned into a dizzying kaleidoscope of motion. Giant-Man was roaring, taking on Iron Man and War Machine, while Spiderman zipped between their legs. Hawkeye was launching a barrage of trick arrows, one exploding near Black Panther, who seemed to be everywhere at once. I tried to create a diversion, sending a focused burst of kinetic energy towards a stack of abandoned luggage carts, hoping the distraction would draw attention away from Bucky and Cap, who were grappling with Black Panther.

It worked, for a split second. Then, something went wrong. A stray repulsor blast, meant for someone else, grazed a nearby fuel tank. The resulting explosion wasn't massive, but it was enough. The concussion wave hit me like a physical punch, forcing a gasp from my lungs. I felt my kinetic shield shatter, the protective energy dissipating into nothingness.

Before I could react, something hard and jagged – a piece of metal from the exploded tank, or perhaps a broken piece of tarmac – slammed into my left leg, just above the knee.

A white-hot agony flared through me, so intense it stole my breath. I stumbled, my leg giving out from under me as if it were made of jelly. The world tilted violently. I hit the ground hard, a choked noise escaping my lips. My vision swam, the cacophony of battle fading into a muffled roar, replaced by the ringing in my ears. Blood bloomed rapidly on my jeans, a dark stain against the dusty asphalt. I tried to push myself up, tried to re-engage my powers, but the pain was blinding, debilitating. I was useless. A sitting duck.

"Whoa! Are you okay?!" A voice, high-pitched and laced with concern, cut through my daze. A red and blue blur landed beside me. Spider-Man.

He knelt, his masked face turning to my leg. "Oh, man, that looks bad. Really bad. Like, 'call an ambulance and maybe a really good tailor' bad." Despite the gravity, his voice still held that nervous energy.

"I… I can't," I gasped, pain making my voice raw. "My leg…"

He didn't hesitate. "Alright, alright, deep breaths. This isn't good. You're out in the open. Tony's gonna kill me if I let you get squished. Or Cap. I don't know who's in charge of squishing." He rambled, but his hands were surprisingly gentle as he checked the wound. His gloved fingers were careful, not pressing too hard against the swelling.

"We gotta get you out of here," he decided, looking quickly around. "Hold on tight. This might be a little bumpy."

Before I could protest, he scooped me up, surprisingly strong for his slender frame. He held me carefully, almost tenderly, even as the battle raged around us; a torrent of power and light that flickered across his suit. My head lolled against his shoulder, the world spinning in nauseating circles.

He moved with incredible speed, not a web-slinging dash, not yet, but a frantic, bounding sprint, weaving expertly between stray blasts and giant fists. He muttered to himself, "Okay, okay, just past that crate. No, wait, Vision just blasted that crate. Uh oh. New plan. Big plane! Yes! Safety!"

He deposited me behind the landing gear of a colossal cargo plane, its cold metal surprisingly comforting against my back. "Stay here," he instructed, his voice serious now, all the earlier jitters gone. "Try not to move it. I'm gonna... I'm gonna see if I can find someone. Or, you know, just get this over with." He pulled off one of his web shooters, attaching it to the plane's strut near my head. "If anyone comes near you, just, uh, press this. It’ll make a really loud noise. Or shoot a web. I haven't quite figured that out yet."

He was on the opposite team. He was supposed to be my ‘enemy’ in this absurd, tragic conflict. But he hadn't hesitated. He hadn't asked questions. He had just seen someone in pain, someone in danger, and acted.

"Wait," I managed, gripping his costume, "Why did you…?"

He looked back at me, removing his mask, letting me see his face, "Because it's the right thing to do," he said, simply. "Doesn't matter what team you're on when someone's hurt."

He then went to leave, but stopped, "No matter how this fight turns out, remember one thing." He said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I've got your back." He answered.

And then he was gone, a red and blue streak disappearing back into the chaos, leaving me alone with the throbbing pain in my leg and the unexpected warmth spreading through my chest.

Tags:

@mandmilovehim @riowritesitall @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @lgbtq-girl @parkjihoonsnudes @rajah-oliver @lateej

Dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

[reveryfics]

another req !!!

more scott lang, who could've known? male reader, too! wow. no barbed tails this time, i promise

insect mutant reader ??

stag beetle specifically. (horns/antlers, maybe wings on their back??) like, spanning from their shoulders to their thighs, maybe touching the floor. any scenario really,, if it's just fluff then maybe including the other avengers (social area) !!

scott lang, who would've guessed

dearly, beloved (sappy, i know)

🪲 anon

Bug Boy

Scott Lang x Male Reader

Summary: While hanging around the Avengers tower, Scott is surprised to see a member he never noticed before.

A/N: Went with a green rainbow stag beetle. I apologize this took so long, been working on a more full length project, but expect to start on more requests soon.

TW: Fluff

Scott drifted through the polished corridors of Avengers Tower, a rare, tranquil day stretching before him like an untouched canvas. The usual cacophony of superhero activity was muted; Captain Marvel was off-planet, Thor was… well, Thor was somewhere in the cosmos, and even Stark had retreated to his lab, leaving a blissful silence in his wake. Scott, in his perpetual state of amiable bewilderment, had decided to explore, a pastime he indulged in whenever the opportunity arose.

He'd wandered for a while, a soft, aimless journey, when a faint, rhythmic humming caught his attention. It was a peculiar sound, a delicate vibration that resonated deep within the walls. Intrigued, he followed the sound, tracing it to a set of double doors tucked away in a less frequented wing of the tower. He pushed them open, and the humming intensified, revealing a lush, verdant space bathed in warm, filtered sunlight.

It was a greenhouse, a miniature ecosystem thriving within the steel and glass confines of the tower. Exotic plants sprawled across tiered shelves, their leaves a vibrant tapestry of greens and purples. Venus flytraps snapped lazily at unseen insects, and a multitude of beetles, glittering like living jewels, crawled over moss-covered logs. But it wasn't the plants or the beetles that held Scott captive. It was you.

You stood amidst the greenery, your back to him, and from your upper back, extending down to your lower back, sprouted a magnificent set of wings. They were large, intricate, and iridescent, resembling the delicate, translucent wings of a massive beetle. The humming Scott had heard was the gentle flutter of these wings.

He did a double take, his jaw slack. He blinked, then blinked again, trying to process the sight before him. Several beetles, small and iridescent, buzzed past Scott, their antennae twitching as if they were scrutinizing him. They circled him, then returned to you, their movements almost playful.

"They seem to like you," you murmured, your voice soft and melodic. You turned, and a warm smile spread across your face, illuminating the greenhouse with an even brighter light. Scott was speechless, his mind struggling to form coherent thoughts.

"Uh… wow," he finally managed, his voice a breathy whisper. "Those… those are… incredible." He gestured vaguely towards your wings, his eyes wide with awe.

You chuckled, a light, airy sound. "They're part of me," you said, gently touching one of the intricate veined wings. "Like your suit and your ants, I have a connection with them, the beetles I mean."

Scott's eyes darted to the beetles crawling over your hands, then back to your wings. "Yeah, but… you don't need a suit," he blurted out, his mind racing. "You just… you just are."

"That's right," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice. "They're a natural extension of myself."

"That's… that's amazing," Scott stammered, his gaze lingering on your wings. "I mean, I have to have this whole rig, you know? The suit, the helmet, the… the Pym Particles. You just… you just talk to them."

"We understand each other," you said, gesturing to the beetles. "They have their own language, their own way of communicating. Just like your ants."

Scott's mind was reeling. He began to talk about his ants, their complex social structures, their ability to work together, their loyalty. He described their intricate communication methods, the pheromones they used to convey messages, the way they formed bridges and rafts. You listened intently, your eyes sparkling with interest, occasionally interjecting with questions about their behavior and abilities.

As he spoke, Scott's eyes were drawn to the subtle details he hadn't noticed before. The delicate, scale-like patterns on your hands, shoulders, and neck, shimmering like the shell of a green rainbow stag beetle. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible detail, but it added to the ethereal beauty that surrounded you.

"You're… you're really something else," Scott said, his voice thick with admiration. "You're… you're beautiful. I mean, those wings, those scales, it's just… wow."

You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the greenhouse. "Thank you, Scott," you said, your cheeks flushed. "You're quite charming yourself."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the gentle humming of your wings and the rustling of the plants. You sighed, a soft, wistful sound. "I'd love to talk more," you said, "but my garden and my beetles need tending."

"Oh, right, of course," Scott said, snapping out of his reverie. He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. "I get it. They're your… your team."

"Exactly," you replied, your smile mirroring his.

Scott turned to leave, his mind still buzzing with the encounter. He walked back through the double doors, the humming of your wings fading into the background. As he strolled down the hallway, he couldn't help but grin.

"Totally nailed it," he muttered to himself, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face. He'd just met someone truly extraordinary, and he couldn't wait to see you again.

[urdreamydoodles]

Hi hi!! Hope your day’s going well!!

I adore the krakoa headcanons you have for the x-men, how willing would you be to do something similar for mcu characters?? Idk if there’s an equivalent though, if not it’s no problem ❤️

MCU CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

A year after your death, you are resurrected and reunited with your lover

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker (Tom H.), Stephen Strange, Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson, T'Challa, Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Scott Lang, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Erik Lehnsherr

Requests are reopened since I'm going to have surgery for my scoliosis...yes, it's bad news, it's a major operation, so I need your requests to feel better. PLEASE SEND ME REQUEST. I don't have surgery for another four months so I have plenty of time since I'm at home! I can't wait to see all your ideas, I LOVE YOU <3

Tony Stark

- Tony Stark, the man who could build a new world with his hands but could not stop them from shaking when they lost you. He spent a year in ruins, laughing too loudly at parties that could not fill the silence you left behind, drowning in half-finished projects where your ghost lingered in the curve of every wire. He never stopped talking about you—not to his friends, not to himself, not to the night. You were the equation he could not solve, the loss he could not engineer his way out of.

- When he sees you again, standing in the flickering light of his workshop, the wrench in his hand slips, clattering to the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. His mind, sharp as ever, gives him ten different explanations, each more impossible than the last, but his heart—his battered, grieving heart—gives him only one. “Tell me I’m dreaming,” he says, voice hoarse, because the alternative is something he cannot afford to believe.

- And then you speak, and the walls he built to keep himself from shattering crumble in an instant. He is across the room before he knows it, hands gripping your arms, your face, tracing the proof of you. The ache in his chest is unbearable, but not from pain—it is the sheer weight of having you again. “They told me I was crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, against your skin. “Guess they were right.”

- You are back, but time has moved without you, carving deeper lines into Tony’s face, dulling the arrogance that once carried him like armor. He watches you like you might disappear again, fingers always brushing your wrist, your hip, the pulse at your throat. He doesn’t sleep much—he never did—but now, when you wake in the night, he is already awake, watching the rise and fall of your breath as if it is the only thing tethering him to reality.

- He brings you everywhere, makes no excuses for it. “My ghost, my rules,” he says when someone questions it. He builds new suits and doesn’t let you out of his sight, not when danger is near, not when a single misstep could take you away again. He has never been a man who believed in second chances, but for you, he will believe in anything.

- The world thinks he is Iron Man, but you know the truth: Tony Stark is just a man who loved and lost and refused to let death win. He holds you like a miracle, like proof that he was right to fight for the impossible. And for the first time in a long time, he is not afraid.

Steve Rogers

- Steve Rogers has always known loss—has carried it like a second skin, worn it like a name he could never leave behind. But losing you was different. It was not the cold silence of the ice, nor the distant ache of time slipping through his fingers. It was immediate, brutal. It was your blood on his hands, your last breath against his cheek. A year passed, and he carried on because that was what he did, because that was what you would have wanted. But he stopped looking at sunsets. Stopped drinking coffee the way you used to make it. Stopped believing that the world could ever feel warm again.

- When he sees you again, standing in the doorway of the safe house, the shield strapped to his back feels heavier than ever. His breath catches, his heart stumbles, and for a moment, he wonders if this is some cruel trick played by an enemy who knows exactly where to cut him open. But then your lips part, and you say his name, and the sound of it is like the first breath after drowning.

- He moves toward you slowly, hesitantly, as if one wrong step will shatter the illusion. His hands hover over your face, your shoulders, trembling with the unbearable need to touch, to feel, to know. And when you don’t disappear, when you are warm and real beneath his fingers, something inside him breaks. His arms crush you to him, his breath shaking as he buries his face in your hair. He is crying, but he doesn’t care. “I held you,” he whispers. “I held you.”

- After that, he does not let you go. The world calls him Captain America, but to you, he is just Steve—the man who wakes up in the middle of the night just to press his forehead against yours, the man whose grip tightens every time you reach for his hand, as if to reassure himself that you are not a dream. He does not know how to make peace with this miracle, so he does not try. He simply loves you harder, holds you closer, refuses to waste a second of the time he was so cruelly robbed of.

- He is more protective now, but it is not the suffocating kind. It is the quiet, steadfast kind, the way he always positions himself between you and an open door, the way he memorizes the sound of your breathing while you sleep. He does not speak of the past year unless you ask, but when you do, the grief in his eyes is something ancient, something that will never fully fade.

- Steve Rogers has always carried the weight of the world, but with you beside him, it is lighter. You are proof that even after all the battles, all the sacrifices, the universe still has kindness left to give. And he will spend the rest of his life earning it.

Natasha Romanoff

- Natasha Romanoff has survived on borrowed time for as long as she can remember. She has lost, she has bled, she has walked away from battlefields without looking back. But losing you was different. It was the one wound that did not heal, the one loss she could not turn into fuel. She did not cry. Did not speak of you. She simply moved forward, faster, harder, with reckless abandon—because if she slowed down, even for a second, she would have to feel the hollow space you left behind.

- When she sees you again, standing in the shadows of a dimly lit alley, her knife is in her hand before she even registers what she is seeing. Her body reacts the way it was trained to, but her heart—her traitorous, fragile heart—stutters in her chest. “No,” she breathes, shaking her head as if denying it will make it any less real. “No, I buried you.”

- And then you step closer, into the light, and she sees the familiar curve of your smile, the warmth in your eyes. She drops the knife. It clatters against the pavement, forgotten, as she crosses the space between you in two strides, her hands fisting in the fabric of your jacket. Her lips crash against yours, desperate, searching, as if she can taste the truth in the way you breathe against her mouth.

- After that, she is different. Softer, in ways only you will ever see. She touches you constantly—not in fear, but in reverence. A hand at the small of your back, fingers trailing over your wrist, knuckles brushing against yours as if reminding herself that you are here. The world may question, but Natasha has never cared for the world's judgment. You are hers, and she is yours, and that is all that matters.

- She does not let you fight alone anymore. Not because she doubts your strength, but because she refuses to feel that kind of loss again. She watches you when you sleep, when you move through a room, when you laugh. She memorizes the details she once took for granted—the exact color of your eyes in the morning light, the rhythm of your voice when you call her name.

- Natasha Romanoff has spent a lifetime making peace with ghosts, but you are not one. You are flesh and blood, a heartbeat beneath her palm, a warmth she never thought she would feel again. And this time, she will not let you go.

Bruce Banner

- Grief is not an emotion Bruce Banner can afford. He has spent a lifetime suppressing, locking away the parts of himself that feel too deeply, because feeling too much is dangerous, and losing you nearly ended the world. The Hulk roared in agony that day, the earth itself trembling beneath his wrath, but even in his most furious state, even as he destroyed everything in his path, you were gone. And no amount of strength, no amount of science, could bring you back.

- He stopped fighting after that. Retreated. Isolated himself in a place where no one could see the way his hands trembled when they weren’t balled into fists, where no one could hear him whisper your name like a prayer, a question, a plea. He stopped shifting into the Hulk—not because he was afraid, but because the monster within him had nothing left to fight for. There was only silence, only the ghost of your touch, only the unbearable weight of having lived when you did not.

- So when you return, standing before him in the quiet of his lab, he does not react at first. His mind, trained to doubt, to question, to disassemble and understand, tells him it cannot be real. That the chemicals in his brain are firing incorrectly, that his grief has finally shattered him in a way no transformation ever could. But then you say his name, and it is not just sound—it is gravity, it is a force pulling him from the abyss.

- He crosses the room in a single breath, hands hovering over your face, your shoulders, your waist, unable to trust his own touch. He is afraid to break you, afraid to break himself. And then your fingers slip into his, grounding him, reminding him that this is not a hallucination, not a cruel trick of his subconscious. You are warm, real, here. And just like that, the weight he has carried for a year crumbles to dust.

- After that, he does not leave your side. He watches you sleep, not because he doubts, but because he cannot waste another second of the time he was so certain he had lost. He builds new defenses, new protections, because if death could not keep you, then neither will any enemy foolish enough to try. He teaches himself to trust happiness again, to allow himself to feel, because with you beside him, it is no longer a danger—it is a gift.

- Bruce Banner has always been afraid of his own power, but with you, he is not afraid. He is a man, not just a monster, and for the first time in a long time, he believes in the possibility of a future. A future where he is not alone. A future where he is not running. A future where you, against all odds, are still his.

Clint Barton

- Clint Barton has never been one to dwell. The life he leads does not allow for it—grief is a luxury, mourning a weakness, and the only way to survive is to keep moving. But when he held you in his arms, felt the last shudder of breath against his skin, something inside him shattered. And he did not put the pieces back together. He let them fall, let them burn, let the silence swallow him whole.

- The others saw him continue—heard his sharp wit, watched him loose arrows with deadly precision, saw the same easy smirk that had always been there. But they did not see the empty spaces where you used to be. Did not see the way he avoided the places you had loved, the way he drank in solitude, the way his hands curled into fists whenever someone mentioned your name.

- So when you return—when you step into the dim light of his hideout, when your voice cuts through the silence he has lived in for a year—he does not believe it. He grips the bow at his side, tension in every muscle, because this is a trick, a trap, an illusion designed to destroy him completely. But then you move closer, and the way you look at him—the way only you ever have—makes the doubt in his mind fracture.

- And then he is there, hands gripping your waist, your arms, his forehead pressed to yours as he exhales a breath he did not know he had been holding. He does not ask how, does not ask why. He only pulls you closer, lets himself collapse into the only thing that has ever truly felt like home. His fingers are tight against your skin, unwilling to let go, unwilling to lose you a second time.

- After that, he is different. Lighter, in ways only you will notice. He is still Clint—still sharp, still reckless, still throwing himself into danger without hesitation—but there is a warmth now, a flicker of something that had long been extinguished. He touches you constantly—not in fear, but in reassurance. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against yours, a quiet, wordless promise that he will not take a second of this for granted.

- Clint Barton has always been a survivor, but he did not truly live until you returned. And now, with you beside him, he has no intention of losing that again. He is yours, wholly and completely, and this time, no force in the universe will take you from him.

Bucky Barnes

- Bucky Barnes knows the taste of loss better than most. He has drowned in it, clawed his way through decades of it, watched everyone he has ever loved slip through his fingers like sand. But losing you was different. Losing you was not the slow, creeping erosion of time. It was a blade to the gut, a wound that never closed, an ache that settled deep in his bones and refused to let go.

- He did not grieve the way others did. He did not cry, did not rage, did not seek solace in memories. He simply stopped. Stopped talking, stopped trying, stopped allowing himself to feel anything at all. Because feeling meant acknowledging the gaping wound your absence had left behind, and that was not something he could survive.

- So when he sees you again, standing in the doorway of his apartment, he does not move. Does not breathe. His mind—trained to expect deception, to anticipate betrayal—tells him this is a trick. But then you step forward, and the way your eyes soften when they meet his, the way your lips part in a quiet whisper of his name, makes the world tilt beneath his feet.

- And then he is there, crossing the space between you with the kind of desperation that only comes from losing something you thought was gone forever. His hands tremble as they frame your face, his breath shuddering as he drinks in the impossible reality of you. He does not trust words, does not trust his voice to hold steady, so he simply presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in, grounding himself in the proof of your existence.

- After that, he does not let you go. He does not speak of the past year, does not tell you how empty it was, how he spent every night staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep that never came. He only shows you in the way he touches you, in the way he holds you closer at night, in the way his fingers linger on yours as if afraid you might vanish again.

- Bucky Barnes has spent a lifetime being taken, being controlled, being used. But you are the one thing that was his, the one thing that was real, and now that you are here, he will fight for you with everything he has. You are his salvation, his anchor, his second chance at something he never thought he deserved. And this time, he is never letting go.

Sam Wilson

- Grief is a weight Sam Wilson carries well, but carrying it does not mean it is light. It sits in his chest, heavy and unmoving, an ache that never quite fades. Losing you was not a clean wound—it was jagged, raw, a battlefield farewell written in blood and breathless whispers. He held you, watched the life slip from your eyes, and still, somehow, he had to stand up. He had to keep fighting. Because that’s what you would have done. That’s what you would want.

- But wanting and doing are not the same thing. He laughed in public, told stories that made others grin, carried himself with the same easy confidence. But alone? Alone, it was different. He spoke to you sometimes when the night was too quiet, when the wind sounded too much like your voice. He ran until his lungs burned, trying to chase the memory of you, knowing he never really could.

- So when you stand before him, alive, breathing, real, the world does not feel like the one he left behind. His first instinct is denial—a trick, an illusion, a cruel joke played by something with too much power and not enough mercy. But you look at him, and there’s something there, something he recognizes too well. Love. History. You. And suddenly, the weight in his chest is gone.

- He moves before he can think. One step, then two, then his arms are around you, his head buried in your shoulder, a shuddering breath breaking from his lips. His grip is tight—too tight, maybe—but he doesn’t care. He needs to feel you, needs to know this isn’t a dream he’ll wake from. He says your name like it’s the only word he remembers, his voice thick with everything he couldn’t say when you were gone.

- After that, Sam is different. Lighter, freer. He still fights, still leads, still carries the burdens of the world on his back—but he does it with you at his side, and that changes everything. He touches you constantly, a hand on your back, fingers brushing against yours, small, quiet reassurances that you are here, that he did not imagine this.

- Sam Wilson has lost many things. He has seen friends fall, watched the world tear itself apart. But this? This is something he never thought he’d get back. And now that he has you, he swears to himself—he’s not losing you again. Not now. Not ever.

Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

- Peter Parker does not know how to exist in a world where you do not. The pain is not sharp, not a clean wound he can stitch together with time. It is suffocating. Slow. A weight pressing down on him, stealing the air from his lungs, making every step feel heavier than the last. He was holding you, talking to you, and then you were just… gone. And nothing he did, no amount of strength, no web-slinging through the city, no late-night patrols could change that.

- He keeps going. He has to. That’s what Spider-Man does. That’s what you would have wanted. But some nights, when he is alone, when the mask is off and the world is quiet, he feels like a boy again—small, lost, powerless. He whispers apologies into the dark, tracing the memory of your touch, trying to pretend he still remembers exactly what your voice sounded like. Because he’s terrified he’s forgetting.

- And then, one day, you are there. Standing in the shadow of a flickering streetlamp, watching him with the same eyes he never thought he’d see again. At first, he doesn’t move. He can’t. His brain refuses to process it, refuses to accept this impossible, beautiful reality. And then you smile—small, hesitant, you—and he breaks.

- He crashes into you, arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost hurts. His breath stutters, hands shaking as they press against your skin, your hair, anything that proves you are real. “You—” His voice cracks. “You died.” And it’s not an accusation. It’s a question, a plea, a broken whisper of disbelief. But you are warm, solid, here, and he holds onto that with everything he has.

- After that, Peter is clingy. He doesn’t mean to be, but he is. His fingers find yours without thinking, his arm curls around your waist at every opportunity, his webbing pulls you to him when you step too far away. He is afraid—afraid this is temporary, afraid that one day he’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again. But he also smiles more, laughs louder, lives in a way he hasn’t since he lost you.

- Peter Parker has lost so much. But this? This is a miracle. And Peter—Peter is going to make sure he cherishes every single second of it. Because this time, he has you. And that? That is everything.

Stephen Strange

- Stephen Strange is no stranger to loss. He has lived through pain, through heartbreak, through the destruction of things he once believed unshakable. But losing you—that was something else entirely. That was not just loss. That was devastation. It was the kind of pain that settled into his bones, that made the world feel quieter, colder, less.

- He did not weep. Did not rage. Did not crumble beneath the weight of it. Instead, he buried himself in his work, in his magic, in the relentless pursuit of something—anything—that could fill the void you left behind. He scoured the multiverse, searching for answers, but found only silence. Death, it seemed, was absolute. Even for you.

- So when you stand before him, alive, whole, untouched by the grave, he does not react at first. His hands twitch at his sides, eyes sharp, mind racing through a thousand possibilities, a thousand explanations. This must be a trick, a deception, some cruel game played by forces beyond his understanding. But then you speak his name, and the way you say it—the way only you say it—breaks him.

- He crosses the room in three steps, hands cupping your face, searching for any sign of illusion. But there is none. There is only warmth, only life, only you. His breath stutters, his fingers tighten, and for the first time in a long, long time, Stephen Strange allows himself to feel. His lips crash against yours, desperate, searching, as if trying to convince himself that this moment is not slipping through his fingers.

- After that, he is possessive. Not in a way that is suffocating, but in a way that is unmistakable. His cloak wraps around you when you are cold, his hands find yours beneath temple robes, his magic lingers in the air around you like a silent guardian. He does not say it—not outright, not often—but you know. You have always known. He cannot lose you again. He will not.

- Stephen Strange has faced the impossible, has bent time and reality to his will. But this? This is the greatest miracle of all. And he, a man who once scoffed at faith, finds himself believing in something again. Because if the universe had any mercy, any kindness at all, it would let him keep you. And this time, he will fight for that with everything he has.

Thor Odinson

- Grief and gods have never mixed well. Mortals mourn with time, with rituals, with whispered prayers to the sky. But Thor? Thor does not know how to grieve in a way that does not tear the world apart. He held you as you died, cradled you against his chest, his hands helpless against the tide of fate. The sky wept with him that day—thunder cracking, the heavens splitting open in rage, the storm inside him unfurling with no battle left to fight.

- He left Earth after that. It was too loud, too full of life, too painfully real in your absence. He searched for answers in the stars, in old myths and forgotten magic, in the whispered promises of gods who had lost more than he had. But the truth was simple: not even the might of Thor, not even the power of Asgard, could bring back the one thing he truly wanted. So he drank, and he fought, and he laughed too loudly to hide the fact that he was breaking.

- And then, one day, he turns, and you are there. Standing in the golden light of the Bifrost, impossibly, beautifully alive. His breath catches in his throat, Mjolnir slipping from his fingers, his entire body frozen between disbelief and desperate hope. “This is a trick,” he says, but his voice is hoarse, unsteady, as if saying the words out loud might make them false. But then you smile, and he is undone.

- He crosses the space between you in an instant, crushing you against him with a force that nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. His hands tangle in your hair, his forehead pressing against yours, and his chest heaves with something between laughter and a sob. “You have returned to me,” he whispers, reverence in every syllable. And then he is kissing you, fierce and unrelenting, as if proving to himself that this is not some cruel jest of fate.

- After that, Thor does not let you go. Not truly. His arm is always around your waist, his hand always at the small of your back, his eyes watching you as if you might disappear the moment he looks away. He tells you, constantly, in grand declarations and quiet murmurs, how much he loves you, how he will never lose you again. You are his greatest treasure, more precious than any throne, any kingdom, any power the cosmos could offer.

- The God of Thunder has lost much—his home, his family, pieces of himself that may never fully return. But you—you are here, in his arms, alive once more. And Thor, a warrior who has fought countless battles, swears that he will fight against gods and monsters alike to keep you at his side.

Loki Laufeyson

- Loki knows loss better than he knows himself. He has lost love, trust, family. But losing you—that was different. That was a wound he could not charm away with silver-tongued words, a pain he could not outwit or outmaneuver. You died in his arms, your fingers curling weakly around his wrist as the light in your eyes faded. And for the first time in his life, Loki Laufeyson was powerless.

- He did not rage. He did not scream. Instead, he withdrew, wrapping himself in silence and solitude, retreating into the shadows where grief could not be seen. The world continued without you, and he played his part well—smirking, deceiving, spinning tales as if he were not hollow inside. But in the quiet moments, when no one was looking, he traced the ghost of your touch on his skin and whispered your name like a prayer.

- So when he sees you again, standing before him in the flickering candlelight of some forgotten sanctuary, he does not react—not at first. His body stills, his breath catches, and his mind races through every possibility, every cruel illusion that could explain this. But then you speak his name, soft and familiar, and something in him shatters.

- He reaches for you hesitantly, his fingers brushing over your cheek as if expecting you to dissolve beneath his touch. And when you do not—when you are warm, and real, and here—a sharp breath leaves his lips, and he pulls you against him with all the desperation of a man drowning. His grip is tight, unyielding, as if trying to convince himself that you will not be stolen from him again.

- After that, Loki is different. Not softer, not weaker—if anything, he is more dangerous, more cunning, more willing to do anything to ensure you remain by his side. He keeps you close, always within reach, his sharp wit reserved for those who dare to threaten what is his. There is no force in the universe he fears, no power he will not challenge, if it means keeping you safe.

- Loki Laufeyson has never believed in fate, in mercy, in second chances. But you? You are proof that even the most broken of men can find something worth living for. And this time, he will not lose you. Not to death. Not to gods. Not to anything.

T’Challa

- T’Challa was a king before he was a man, a warrior before he was a lover. But you—you—were the one thing that belonged solely to him. With you, he was not a ruler, not the Black Panther, not the protector of a nation. He was simply a man in love. And then, in a single moment, in the chaos of war, you were gone. And he—T’Challa, the unshakable, the wise, the just—fell to his knees, holding you as the life slipped from your body.

- He did not mourn in ways the world could see. There were no public displays of grief, no speeches of loss. He carried the weight of your death in silence, bearing it with the same quiet dignity that he bore every burden. But in the stillness of his chambers, when no one was watching, he let the sorrow take him. He traced the last place he had held you, whispered your name to the night, and wondered if he would ever learn to breathe without you.

- So when he sees you again, standing beneath the glow of Wakanda’s golden lights, his heart stops. His breath catches. And for a moment, he is afraid to move—to hope. But you step forward, your eyes locking onto his, and everything else ceases to matter. The world falls away, and there is only you.

- He crosses the distance between you in a single step, his hands cupping your face with reverence, with disbelief, with a depth of emotion he has never let himself show before. He does not ask how or why. He only whispers, “My love,” as if speaking the words aloud will make them real. And then he kisses you—slow, deep, a promise, a prayer, a thousand unspoken words pressed into your skin.

- After that, T’Challa is your shadow, your shield, your unwavering protector. He does not smother you—he respects you too much for that—but he watches, always. His fingers linger against yours in quiet moments, his gaze softens whenever you speak, and when he holds you at night, it is with the quiet, unyielding certainty that he will never let go again.

- T’Challa has lost many things—his father, his home, pieces of himself in battles fought for the greater good. But this? This is something sacred. And a king who has been given back his heart will protect it with everything he has.

Marc Spector

- Marc Spector has never been good at losing people. He has lost too much, buried too many, carried ghosts in the hollows of his ribs and the shadows of his mind. But losing you—watching you die in his arms, feeling your body grow cold as his own blood soaked into the ground—was something else entirely. It didn’t break him. It obliterated him.

- He stopped pretending after that. Stopped holding himself together, stopped fighting for anything beyond survival. He threw himself into missions with reckless abandon, took every fight as if he was begging for someone to land a fatal hit. He couldn’t sleep in your bed, couldn’t bear to hear your name spoken aloud. He tried—Khonshu knows, he tried—to find a way to bring you back. Bargained with gods, hunted down forbidden magic, but nothing, nothing, worked. So he gave up. He accepted that this was his punishment, his curse, to keep losing the things he loved until there was nothing left of him.

- And then—then—you were there. Standing in the doorway, alive, whole, looking at him like you weren’t a phantom haunting his grief. He didn’t move at first, didn’t breathe, convinced you were another trick of his fractured mind. But then you spoke—soft, hesitant, like you weren’t sure if he would even want you back. And the moment your voice reached him, Marc snapped.

- He was on you in an instant, his hands on your face, your shoulders, your arms—anywhere he could touch, anywhere he could convince himself you were real. “Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he whispered, voice shaking, breath unsteady. And when you smiled, when you nodded, he kissed you—desperate, bruising, like a man drowning who had finally found air.

- After that, Marc is different. Not softer, not gentler—he has never been those things—but determined. He refuses to let you out of his sight for too long, refuses to take a single moment for granted. The nightmares don’t go away—sometimes he wakes up reaching for you, convinced he’s lost you all over again—but you are always there, grounding him, reminding him that miracles exist.

- He still fights, still follows the path Khonshu carved for him, but now, there’s something else driving him. Not vengeance. Not guilt. You. You, alive and breathing, laughing in the golden light of morning, rolling your eyes when he gets in one of his moods. And if he has to fight every god, every monster, every force in the universe to keep you by his side? So be it.

Steven Grant

- Grief is a lonely thing. And for Steven, it was lonelier than most. He didn’t have Marc’s rage or Jake’s cold detachment—he just had absence, an empty space beside him where you used to be. You had been his bright thing, his sunbeam, the warmth in his life he never thought he deserved. And then, in a moment of violence and blood, you were gone.

- The flat was too quiet after that. He still made tea for two, still caught himself turning to tell you something, still found little reminders of you everywhere. Your books on the shelf. Your perfume lingering in the air. A sweater you’d stolen from him, draped over the back of a chair. He couldn’t let go, couldn’t move—just existed, stumbling through the days with a polite smile and eyes that held too much grief.

- And then, one evening, as he shuffled into the flat with the exhaustion of another day spent pretending he was okay, he saw you. Standing there, real as anything, watching him with that soft, hesitant look you always had when you weren’t sure how he’d react. He didn’t even think. Didn’t question. Just dropped whatever was in his hands and ran to you.

- “Oh, love,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he cupped your face, pressing his forehead to yours. He was crying—of course he was crying—but he didn’t care, didn’t even try to stop. “I—I thought—oh God, I thought I lost you.” His hands trembled as he touched you, as if afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful. But you didn’t disappear. You were here. And when you kissed him—gentle, reassuring—he let out a broken, disbelieving laugh.

- After that, Steven becomes more himself again. The light comes back into his eyes, the warmth into his voice. He tells you every day how much he loves you, how grateful he is that you came back. He holds you for hours sometimes, murmuring little things against your skin, afraid that if he lets go, the universe will take you away again.

- You are his miracle, his impossible, wonderful second chance. And Steven, the man who never thought he was enough, now knows one thing with absolute certainty—he will never take you for granted again.

Jake Lockley

- Jake doesn’t grieve the way others do. He doesn’t sit in sorrow, doesn’t cry himself to sleep. He compartmentalizes, shoves it all into a locked box in the back of his mind and throws away the key. When you died, he didn’t break down. He didn’t scream. He just acted. Found the ones responsible. Made them pay. Made everyone pay.

- He convinced himself that was enough. That revenge was all he had left to give you. But when the dust settled, when the blood was washed from his hands, there was nothing. Just an emptiness so vast it threatened to swallow him whole. He became a ghost, slipping through the world unnoticed, unseen. He only spoke when necessary, only acted when called upon. If Marc and Steven noticed how much darker he’d become, they didn’t say anything.

- And then—then—you were there. Sitting in the backseat of his car like you belonged there, like you hadn’t died in his arms a year ago. He slammed on the brakes so hard the tires screeched, his pulse roaring in his ears. He didn’t turn around at first. Couldn’t. His hands gripped the steering wheel like a vice, his knuckles white with tension. “Not funny,” he rasped, his voice low, dangerous. “Not a game I wanna play.”

- “It’s not a trick, Jake,” you whispered. And that was all it took. He turned, his breath catching as he finally let himself look. Let himself believe. And the moment he did, something inside him snapped. He surged toward you, pulling you into his arms with a desperation he rarely let himself show. His face buried in your neck, his breath shaky and uneven, his body trembling as if the entire world had just shifted beneath his feet.

- After that, Jake is ruthless about keeping you safe. He doesn’t care how you came back—only that you did, and that nothing will take you from him again. He’s always watching, always waiting, always a step ahead of any potential threat. He doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s in the way he tucks you close against him in crowds, in the way his fingers ghost over your pulse like he’s memorizing it.

- Jake Lockley is not a good man. He never claimed to be. But you—you are the one thing that makes him want to be. And if death couldn’t keep you from him, nothing else will either.

Scott Lang

- Scott never truly believed in happy endings, but he believed in you. He believed in the way your laughter could turn an ordinary day into something extraordinary, the way your hand in his made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he was enough. Losing you shattered him in ways he didn’t even know were possible. You died in his arms, your blood on his hands, and in that moment, he stopped believing in miracles.

- He tried to hold it together for Cassie. He smiled, told jokes, did his best to pretend he was okay. But he wasn’t. His apartment felt too big without you, the bed too cold. He found himself talking to the empty air, half-expecting you to answer. The worst part was the moments right before he woke up, when his brain still tricked him into thinking you were next to him, breathing softly in sleep. And then he’d open his eyes and reality would sink in like a knife to the gut.

- When he sees you again, it’s like the universe plays a cruel trick on him. He blinks, rubs his eyes, thinks he’s hallucinating. But then you smile, that soft, knowing smile he dreamed about, and everything collapses. He doesn’t think—just moves, just grabs you, just feels. “Oh my God,” he breathes, his voice shaking, his arms wrapping around you so tightly he might never let go. “Tell me this is real. Please tell me this is real.” And when you nod, when you whisper his name, he lets out a half-laugh, half-sob against your shoulder.

- Scott becomes clingy after that—not in an overbearing way, but in a you-can’t-leave-me-again way. He constantly reaches for you, constantly checks if you’re still there. He makes up for lost time—cooking you breakfast (badly), taking you on spontaneous road trips, making you laugh until you can’t breathe. Every moment is precious now, every second a gift. He refuses to waste a single one.

- He tells you everything he couldn’t before. How much he missed you, how much it hurt, how many times he caught himself looking for you in a crowded room. He never wants to take you for granted again. Every night, he holds you like you might disappear in the morning, presses kisses to your skin as if he’s trying to memorize you all over again.

- Scott Lang doesn’t know why the universe gave you back to him, but he doesn’t care. All he knows is that this time, no force in the world—no villain, no bad luck, no cosmic cruelty—is going to take you away from him again.

Wade Wilson (Fox)

- Wade doesn’t mourn like other people. He doesn’t wear black, doesn’t cry softly in the night. No, Wade’s grief is ugly, loud, chaotic. After you died, he became worse—more violent, more reckless, more unhinged. He threw himself into fights he knew he couldn’t win, hoping—praying—someone would finally land the killing blow. But they never did. His healing factor cursed him to keep living, to keep hurting.

- He talked to you like you were still there. Made jokes to the empty side of the bed. Left your favorite snacks untouched in the cabinet. The others tried to check on him—Weasel, Domino—but he just shoved them away with a laugh, a joke, a bloody fight he walked away from without a scratch. “I’m fine,” he’d say, voice hollow behind the mask. “Totally normal levels of depression. Probably a seven out of ten. Maybe an eight. Who’s to say?”

- And then, one day, you walked through his door. Just like that. No fanfare, no dramatic music—just you, standing there, looking at him with that same familiar amusement in your eyes. He froze. Blinked. Looked down at the bottle of vodka in his hand. “Oh,” he muttered. “Guess I finally drank myself into hallucinations. Took long enough.” But then you said his name, your voice real, and everything inside him broke.

- He tackled you before you could even take a step closer. Knocked you onto the couch, onto the floor, onto him, his arms squeezing so tight it was a miracle you could still breathe. “If this is a dream, I swear to Ryan Reynolds’ beautiful abs, I will murder my subconscious,” he babbled, his voice cracking. He touched your face, your arms, every inch of you, just to be sure. And when you laughed—when you really laughed—he just lost it. Full-on ugly sobs, face buried in your neck, refusing to ever let go.

- After that, Wade is worse—but in a different way. He never shuts up about how lucky he is. Clings to you, wraps himself around you like a human (questionably clean) blanket, dramatically declares that if you ever die on him again, he’ll personally go to hell and drag you back himself. He texts you every five minutes when you’re not around. If you so much as sneeze, he’s already googling life-threatening illnesses.

- But beneath all the jokes, the over-the-top antics, there’s something soft there. Something raw. Wade Wilson doesn’t believe in happy endings. But he believes in you. And if the universe was kind enough to give you back to him, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll finally start believing in second chances too.

Logan Howlett (Fox)

- Logan is no stranger to grief. He has lost more people than he can count, buried more loved ones than he dares to remember. But losing you—you—was different. It wasn’t just another loss, another name on the long list of people the world had taken from him. It was the loss. The one that finally made him want to lay down and never get up again.

- He disappeared after that. Vanished into the wilderness, into the places where no one could find him. He drank himself into oblivion, picked fights with men twice his size just for the chance to feel something. The nightmares were worse—your face, your voice, the way you reached for him as you died in his arms. He could still feel your blood on his hands, still hear your last breath. There was no escaping it. No running fast enough.

- When he sees you again, it’s not dramatic. It’s not loud. It’s silent. He turns, expecting an enemy, a threat—only to see you. Standing there. Alive. His breath catches in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs like it’s trying to break free. For a long moment, he just stares, his jaw clenched so tight it aches. “No,” he finally rasps. “No, that ain’t possible.” But you just step closer, your hands trembling, your eyes pleading. “Logan,” you whisper. And something inside him snaps.

- He moves before he can think, his arms wrapping around you with the force of a man drowning who has finally found solid ground. He buries his face in your hair, breathes you in, his whole body shaking. “If this is some kinda sick joke,” he growls against your skin, “I swear to God—” But you just hold him tighter, and he finally—finally—lets himself believe it.

- After that, Logan is fiercely protective. More than before. You are his second chance, his proof that maybe—just maybe—the world hasn’t taken everything from him. He keeps you close, always within reach. He doesn’t talk about the time you were gone, doesn’t say how lost he was without you—but you see it in the way he touches you, like he’s making sure you’re still real.

- Logan has lived a long life, filled with too much pain, too much loss. But now, with you back in his arms, he thinks—just for a moment—that maybe, maybe, he finally has something worth fighting for again.

Matt Murdock

- Grief became a quiet shadow in Matt’s life, a presence that never left. He carried it with him in the way he adjusted his tie, in the way he spoke to Foggy and Karen like he was fine when he wasn’t. He still went out at night, still fought in the streets, but the fire inside him had dimmed. He no longer fought to save the city—he fought because it was the only thing that numbed the ache of losing you.

- He whispered your name in his prayers, his voice breaking over the syllables. In his apartment, your absence was louder than anything else. He reached for you in his sleep, his hands closing around nothing, waking up with an emptiness so heavy it stole his breath. He let the guilt drown him—because you died in his arms, and no matter how many bones he broke or how much blood he spilled, he couldn’t change that.

- When you return, he knows it’s you before you even speak. The world is full of sound, full of heartbeats, full of voices—but yours? Yours has always been different. His entire body stills, his breath hitching in his throat. He listens, waiting for the trick, the deception, because he knows what death feels like. But then you say his name, and the world tilts sideways.

- He moves without thinking, reaching for you, his hands trembling as they trace over your face, your hair, your lips. “You’re real,” he breathes, almost afraid to say it. “You’re real.” And when he finally lets himself believe it, when he pulls you into his arms and holds you so tightly it aches, he lets out a broken sound—somewhere between a sob and a prayer.

- After that, Matt is different. He refuses to let you go alone anywhere, his protectiveness manifesting in quiet touches, in the way his fingers always seek yours. He’s softer now, more open with his emotions, because he’s lost you once and he won’t make the mistake of taking any second for granted.

- At night, when the city is quiet and his scars ache, he traces over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you all over again. “I don’t know how I deserve this,” he whispers against your hair, his voice raw with devotion. “But I’m never letting you go again.”

Frank Castle

- Frank has always been good at loss. Not because he accepts it, but because he survives it. Losing you, though? It was a different kind of wound, one that never stopped bleeding. He didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He just became colder. The world lost all color, all meaning. He didn’t live after you were gone—he just existed, a weapon with no purpose but destruction.

- He stopped talking. Stopped caring. The men he hunted became nothing more than names on a list, their deaths nothing more than numbers. He never said your name, never spoke of you, because acknowledging you were gone would break something inside him that even he couldn’t put back together.

- And then, one night, you stand in front of him, breathing, alive, looking at him like he’s still the man you loved. He doesn’t believe it at first. His grip tightens around his gun, his entire body coiled and ready for a fight because this? This is cruel. And yet—your eyes. Your heartbeat. The way you whisper, “Frank?” like it’s his name that brings you back to life.

- His hands shake as he reaches for you. He touches your face like it’s something fragile, something that might disappear if he presses too hard. And when you don’t, when you lean into his touch with a softness he thought he’d never feel again, something inside him shatters. He pulls you against him, his grip almost desperate, his breath ragged. “I lost you,” he rasps against your hair. “I lost you, and I didn’t—I didn’t know how to keep going.”

- Frank becomes your shadow after that. He’s gentler with you than he’s ever been with anyone, but that protectiveness? That fire? It’s stronger than ever. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, they won’t live to make the mistake twice. But with you? With you, he is something softer, something almost human again.

- He doesn’t pray, doesn’t believe in fate. But at night, when you sleep beside him, warm and real, he presses a silent kiss to your forehead and whispers, Thank you. He doesn’t know who he’s thanking. Maybe the universe. Maybe you. All he knows is that this time, he won’t waste a single second.

Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter

- Losing you broke Dex. And when Dex breaks, he destroys. He tried to keep it together—tried to pretend he could move on, that he could keep living without you—but the anger, the madness, the unbearable emptiness inside him only grew. The world felt wrong without you. He felt wrong. He stopped sleeping, stopped feeling anything but the burning need to punish whatever took you away from him.

- He lost control after that. Killed without hesitation, without remorse. Let his mind spiral, let his demons win, because what was the point of fighting them without you? You were his anchor, the one person who made him believe he could be more than the monster inside him. Without you, he had no reason to pretend anymore.

- When he sees you again, he doesn’t react the way most people would. No tears, no disbelief. He stalks toward you, his entire body trembling, his breath uneven. His fingers twitch like they’re reaching for a weapon—like he can’t decide if you’re a dream, a trick, or something worse. “You’re dead,” he says, voice flat, empty. “I held you while you died.” And then, quieter, almost desperate—“Tell me this is real.”

- The second you touch him, the second your fingers brush over his, he breaks. He surges forward, his arms crushing around you, his breathing ragged against your skin. “Don’t leave me again,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “Please. I can’t—I can’t do this without you.” And for the first time in a year, his mind is quiet. The rage, the spiraling thoughts, the unbearable emptiness—it all stops the moment you’re back in his arms.

- After that, Dex is obsessive. He always had that trait in him, but now? Now it’s even worse. You are his, and he refuses to let anything take you away from him again. He follows you like a shadow, sleeps with his arms locked around you, memorizes every detail of your body just in case the universe dares to rip you away from him again.

- There’s a darkness inside him, one that never truly fades. But with you alive, with you real, that darkness is tempered by something softer. Something dangerous. He’s not just a killer anymore. He’s yours. And if anyone tries to take you from him again? He’ll burn the whole world to the ground.

Wanda Maximoff

- Grief clung to Wanda like an old, tattered shawl, woven with the ghosts of everyone she had ever lost. She had thought she had reached her limit—that the universe could take no more from her than it already had. But then it took you. And that, she realized, was the cruelest cut of all. She had survived wars, watched cities crumble, lost her family, her brother, her home. But losing you? That was the first time she felt herself break.

- She became something else after you died. A ghost walking through her own life, untethered from the world. The wind carried whispers of you—the echo of your laughter in a marketplace, the ghost of your breath against her skin in the moments before she woke up alone. And the anger—God, the anger. She lashed out when she fought, red energy sparking at her fingertips with a ferocity she couldn’t contain. She wanted to hurt the universe the way it had hurt her.

- And then, like an answer to a prayer she had never dared to whisper, you stood before her again. At first, she thought it was another cruel trick, another illusion meant to unravel what little remained of her sanity. But then—then she felt you. Your heartbeat, your warmth, the undeniable reality of you. And the moment that truth settled into her bones, she collapsed into you, shaking, weeping, hands clutching desperately at your arms, your shoulders, your face.

- “You were gone,” she sobbed, burying herself in you like she could merge her soul with yours. “I—I felt you leave me.” And for the first time in a year, her magic did not rage. It did not spark and burn with untamed grief. It simply was. It curled around the two of you like a shield, like a silent promise that she would never let you be taken from her again.

- After that, Wanda became something softer, but not weaker. She still held the storm inside her, but now, it had purpose. Now, it had you. She held you like she was afraid the wind might steal you away again, always touching—fingers brushing over yours, arms wrapping around you in sleep, a protective hand against the small of your back in public. She had lost everything before. She would not lose you again.

- At night, when the world was still and your breath rose and fell against her chest, she whispered things she could never say in the daylight. Apologies, promises, prayers in a language she had almost forgotten. And when you stirred, murmuring her name, she simply kissed you—deep and slow, like she could pour her very soul into you, like she could make you stay this time.

Pietro Maximoff

- The world never felt fast enough after you were gone. Time slowed into something unbearable, something suffocating. Pietro had always outrun grief before, always left it in the dust, but your death? That was a weight even he couldn’t shake. He stopped joking. Stopped running for fun. The world lost its color, its spark, its meaning. What was the point of moving quickly when you weren’t at the finish line anymore?

- He tried—he really tried—to pretend. To act like he was okay, to throw on that smirk and tell people, “Eh, I’m fine.” But Wanda knew. She saw it in the way he sat still for too long, the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking, the way he lingered in places that reminded him of you. His speed was once his escape, his freedom. Now, every step forward only took him further away from the last time he held you.

- And then—then he sees you. And for the first time in his life, he can’t move. He just stares, his heart a violent drumbeat against his ribs, his breath caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “No,” he whispers, blinking rapidly, because this has to be some sick joke. “This isn’t real.” But you are. And the moment you take a step toward him, he snaps.

- He moves too fast, too desperate, grabbing you like you might vanish if he lets go. His hands cup your face, his lips press against every part of you he can reach—forehead, cheeks, hands, lips. “You’re real,” he gasps between kisses, between shaky laughter and choked sobs. “You’re—you’re real.” And suddenly, the world isn’t slow anymore. You are his new gravity, the only thing keeping him from spinning out of control.

- After that, Pietro is obsessed with feeling you close. He picks you up just to hear you laugh, carries you even when you insist you can walk. He talks more, filling every silence with his voice because silence is what haunted him for a year. And he touches—not just because he wants to, but because he needs to. Holding your hand, leaning against you, brushing his fingers over your cheek just to remind himself you’re here.

- And at night, when he curls around you in bed, his heartbeat thrumming like a song against your skin, he whispers things he’s never said before. “I thought I lost you forever.” “I never stopped looking for you.” “If you ever leave me again, I swear I’ll outrun death itself to bring you back.” And when you tell him you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere, he presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder and finally—finally—lets himself breathe again.

Erik Lehnsherr (Fox)

- Erik was already a man carved from loss, molded by grief, his soul tempered in the fires of tragedy. Losing you was not just another wound—it was the moment he snapped completely. He did not rage. He did not weep. He simply became something else. Harder. Colder. More dangerous. Without you, there was no reason to hold back. No reason to believe in anything but vengeance.

- The world paid for your absence. He became relentless, his war against those he deemed responsible for suffering escalating beyond reason. He did not believe in mercy anymore—because if the world had shown you none, why should he? But in the rare, silent moments when he was alone, when his hands were still for once, he would stare at the space beside him and feel something that terrified him. Emptiness.

- When you return, he does not react as a man should when seeing his lost love brought back to life. He does not run to you. He does not whisper your name like a prayer. He simply stares, cold and unreadable, his mind calculating every possibility—illusion, manipulation, deception. And then—then you reach for him, and the moment your hand touches his, his composure shatters.

- His hands shake as they frame your face. His breathing is shallow, his eyes burning with something unreadable. When he speaks, his voice is low, trembling with something dangerous. “Who did this?” he demands. Because someone had to bring you back. And Erik Lehnsherr does not believe in miracles. But when you smile—when you whisper, “I’m here, Erik”—his fury dissolves into something broken, something human. He kisses you like a dying man gasping for air, his hands gripping you as if afraid the wind might steal you away.

- After that, Erik is ruthless in his protectiveness. He keeps you close, watches you with the sharp gaze of a predator waiting for the world to try and take you again. But in private, in the spaces where no one else can see, he is something else. His hands are reverent as they hold you, his voice is soft when he speaks to you, and his nightmares—the ones filled with loss—fade when you press a kiss to his temple.

- He does not believe in peace. He does not believe in forgiveness. But he believes in you. And that? That is the only thing in this world he will not let go of again.

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

It's me, my daddy issues, and father figures against the world

[fatkish]

How the different Avengers take care of a sick Omega Reader

The Alphas:

Bucky-

it depends on when you get sick.

If he’s still on the run then he rarely ever leaves the your side. The only time he does is to get food. He’d buy fruits, white bread, white rice, and other easy to digest foods. He’d probably skin and boiled some apples before mashing them up to make applesauce

He definitely doesn’t trust anyone to help his omega. Would definitely feed you by hand and be waiting on you constantly. Barely ever lets you leave your nest

If you’re feeling weak then he’ll help you get around and help you bathe. He’ll cuddle with you and make sure you’re drinking water. He’ll always have a large bowl or bucket nearby in case you puke

If it’s after he reunites with Steve and spends time in Wakanda

He’ll immediately alert whoever, either Friday or someone in Wakanda depending on where you guys are

He’ll allow Bruce or whoever to look you over and give you medicine but he will be hovering around watching

Treats whatever the doctors say as gospel and makes sure to follow it. If you want a food that the doctors didn’t specify say was okay then you’re not getting it

Might let Steve look after you if needed

Loki-

How he goes about caring for his omega depends on whether he’s on earth or Asgard

King. Of. Comfort. Is your nest too small? Don’t worry you can have the entire floor if necessary. Blankets not soft enough? He’s getting you the most luxurious and soft blankets ever. Lights too bright? He’s about to fight the fucking sun. There is nothing this man won’t do for his omega

Would personally oversee the chefs who make your meals by using a clone if you’re on Asgard. If you’re on earth then he’s constantly backseat driving while either Bruce, Wanda or Pepper cook for you. They’re the only people he trusts to not poison you accidentally

He would cook your food himself but he wants the best for you and his cooking isn’t. Also, he doesn’t want to leave your side while you’re not feeling well

If you have to take medicine that you don’t like then he’s going to find a way to get it in you. Doesn’t matter the method, if you need this medicine you’re getting this medicine even if he has to trick you or seduce you

If you’re sore or tired and need a bath then he’s more than happy to help. He’ll carefully wash your hair and skin, making sure not to get soap in your eyes. He’s careful not to jostle you too much in case you’re feeling queasy

If you’re having trouble keeping things down then he’ll hold your hair back and sit with you by the toilet. If you’re crying from the constant vomiting then he’ll rub your back and softly sing to you to comfort you

If your nest doesn’t feel right then he’ll gladly be your proxy and build your nest for you as you tell him where to put things. It doesn’t matter how many times he has to repeat the process, as long as you’re comfortable

If you’re just an overall emotional mess then he’ll be more than happy to comfort you in your time of need. If you’re just so sick of feeling sick he might put a sleep spell on you so you don’t have to suffer, he’ll watch over you and make sure you come out feeling better

Thor-

Giant. Puppy. Energy. He will cuddle with you, bring you food, watch tv with you. Whatever makes you feel better, he’s down for it

You want to snuggle and have skin to skin contact? Move over, he’s already lost his clothes and doesn’t mind snuggling. You’re self conscious because you’re sweaty, your hair is a mess, you look like shit? He only sees the most beautiful omega ever and he’s more than happy to prove it to you

Whatever food you need he’s gonna get. If he has to fly across the world just to get these one chips you like only to return and you throw up after eating them, he doesn’t care. As long as it’s to help you, he’ll do whatever he needs to

You want to steal his cape and use it in your nest? He already put it there. The world needs saving, eh, there’s always tomorrow, right now his omega needs him

If you’re fussy and a pain when your sick, he doesn’t mind, you don’t feel well so he’s happy to let you do whatever you need to make you feel better

He’ll tell you stories about his childhood and his adventures as you lay your head on his chest and try to rest

He’ll bring you the fluffiest blankets for your nest and help you build it too, all he wants is for his omega to get better

Steve Rodgers-

Having spent over a decade being sick in the past, he’s no stranger to being ill. He might not be an omega anymore but he knows and remembers what helped him

He’ll make old family recipes just for you, he’ll use everything he remembers from being sick. Cold damp towel on your forehead to help ease the fever, warm blankets and easy to digest meals

He’s more than happy to feed you if you need it. If you can’t keep things down then he’s already got the puke bucket ready for you by your side

If nothing works then he’s happy to do some research even if he struggles with it

Will gladly let Bruce look you over and give you a checkup. If you need medicine and you hate the way it tastes he’ll use every trick in the book to get you to take the medicine. Afterwards he’ll give you praise and lots of snuggles

He’ll help you bathe but he’ll definitely be shy about it. He has to clean your crotch and chest? His face is red as he looks away but he’s gentle and thorough making sure you get clean

If you have an accident like throwing up on yourself because you couldn’t reach the bucket or the toilet fast enough and your embarrassed, he’ll smile softly and reassure you that whatever you did, he’s probably done at least twice. He’ll even tell you embarrassing stories about himself and have Bucky join in if it makes you feel better

Bruce/Hulk-

There’s only one thing these two can agree on and it’s that they love/care about you

The moment Bruce realizes you’re sick, he goes full mother hen mode. Partially because he himself is an omega, but also because it’s the doctor in him. He brings you to his lab or he brings his equipment to you and does whatever tests he needs

Hulk will be yelling at him in his head the entire time to let him out so he can take care of you while Bruce does his check up on you

Bruce somehow manages to convince Hulk to let him run the tests so he can make sure your condition is nothing serious. Once they both know that it’s just the flu and you won’t die or need some exotic/fancy treatment then Bruce relents and allows Hulk to care for you

Hulk is definitely a cuddler, he climbs into your nest and lets you use him as a bed. He’s got his arms around you and holds you keeping you warm. C’mon, the guys practically a giant gamma powered heater

Hulk will wrap you up in a blanket burrito and purr to you, Hulk can be surprisingly soothing and he holds nothing back, he knows he can’t smash the germs making you sick, so he provides moral support while your body fights

Hulk listens to Bruce’s instructions on how to care for you and make you food. If his form is too inconvenient then he’ll let Bruce handle the intricate things like cooking or getting your medicine

Bruce has a Hulk sized tub so Hulk can bathe, Hulk helps you and is gentle with you as he washes your hair and body. Makes sure you’re nice and dry using his big towel

Hulk gently rubs your back as you puke and holds your hair back. He doesn’t like seeing you so miserable

If you want to watch movies then Hulk will cuddle with you even if you fall asleep and he hates the movie, anything for his omega

The Betas:

Scott Lang-

This sweet baby is immediately on his feet and worried for you

He might not be an alpha but that has nothing to do with how much he loves/cares for you

This lovable goofball is running around like a chicken with his head cut off at the first sign of the sniffles

Will definitely get the ants to help clean the house and make sure to sanitize everything so that the germs are gone

If you’re puking then he’ll braid your hair and put it in a bun so it’s out of the way, he has a daughter so his papa instincts are in full swing

He helps you get in and out of your nest, bringing you whatever you need and making sure you’re warm and cozy

If you’re feeling down or tired of being sick then he’s more than happy to cheer you up. Cue the magic tricks and playing rockband with the ants

He’s more than happy to cuddle with you if it makes you feel better, anything for you

He doesn’t mind if your nose is stuffed or runny, he’s got plenty of tissues and even makes a game of seeing how many he can throw in the trash from afar

Tony Stark-

Now he knows he’s not the best with caring for sick people but as the team’s omega, which he personally recruited, he takes his job seriously

He’ll have Bruce look you over and make sure it’s just the flu before making sure that you have everything you need

If you specifically want him to snuggle with you then move over, he’s snuggling but your watching a movie too

He’ll have either Jarvis or Friday monitor you so he can ensure that you’re eating and staying hydrated. If you’re puking they’ll alert him so he can make sure you get easy to digest meals

He’ll watch bad movies with you so the both of you can roast the movie. For example: an old sci/fi with terrible visual effects that he’ll keep commenting on. That or you’ll watch YouTube videos of people failing and doing stupid stuff

He’ll gladly order whatever you need no matter how ridiculous, if a dozen dancing cacti make you feel better, you’re going to get double

You’re not allowed to move from your nest unless it’s to use the bathroom. He’s very controlling but in a loving sense. You don’t move to get anything, that’s why he’s here, he’ll get what you need so don’t move

He almost becomes like a worried parent, constantly hovering over the line of ‘its just a bruise’ and ‘everyone panic! It’s the return of the plague’. He’s constantly a mix between relaxed and incredibly worried

[waltermis]

Rumor

Natasha: Moya Lyubov', I heard an interesting rumor today…

Y/N: Only one? I started like twenty.

Tony: I started thirty something...

Scott: Twelve, but they're awesome ones!

*Everybody looking at Sam*

Sam: Oh, I haven't stopped since Ultron...

Y/N: SAM! Ultron was 4 years ago!!!

Sam: Exactly!!

*Somewhere deep inside the compound*

Steve: WHO SAID THAT I WAS A NAZI?!?!

*Natasha looks at everyone*

Y/N: RUN!!!

BONUS:

Clint: *casually sitting in the vents above everyone, knowing full well that he's the one that started the Nazi rumor*

[milkbean69]

No but seriously guys why the hell has no one written for avengers assemble. Like I can't be the only one who watches this show.

Why are they so hot, like fuck why!!!!!!!!!! Marvel why would you make these characters so sexy..

[charliedawn]

Marvel fanfictions

One-shots

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/666976529031544832/how-would-they-react-with-an-openly-flirting

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/649611102469095424/marvel-x-chubbyreader-imagine

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/652573173339111424/how-would-they-react-if-you-were-to-marry-someone

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/650363232579633152/imagine-loki-being-jealous-of-thors

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/647038878320050176/how-they-would-react-if-you-got-into-a-fight-that

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/656045668038836224/ultron-x-reader

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/646991618657959937/imagine-being-a-corrector-someone-there-to-erase

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/678402070832939008/if-this-is-allowed-i-wonder-how-avengers-and

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/678913941377826816/how-would-norman-osborn-and-otto-octavius-reacting

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/679890706067783680/imagine-having-had-a-crush-on-doc-ock-in-your

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/678381774027571200/how-would-the-marvel-villains-react-to-finding-out

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/674465099471290368/thank-you-so-much-for-the-kind-and-thorough

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/682697155699523584/if-this-allowed-can-i-ask-avengers-how-they-react

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/685455566053752832/stephen-strange-x-reader

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/689147711219499008/hii-i-saw-what-you-wrote-for-a-punkreader-n-i

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/692871144022360064/avengers-and-peter-parker-on-their-wedding-day

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/690349623094755328/peter-parker-x-soin-a-wheelchair

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/766617867815976961/imagine-deadpool-always-being-goofy-around-you-but

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/716228842968285184/hi-i-liked-your-fic-with-ultron-i-was-glad-to

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/717035352988303360/im-kinda-shy-doing-this-but-loki-with-a-so

Avengers as Villains AU :

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/649741859076308992/the-other-side-part-1-imagine-the-avengers-as

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/649753089255063552/the-other-side-part-2-what-if-the-marvel-villains

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/649987782974062592/the-other-side-part-3

[gfmaximoff]

Scott: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life.

Tony: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years!

Steve: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this!

Wanda: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!

Natasha: My moral code, is that you?

Scott:

Scott: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Breeding with Scott Lang

A/N: Third fic of Kinktober! This is more of a breeding kink fic than the actual breeding itself, but I hope that’s okay

Also, please don’t be weird about me including Cassie Lang’s name in this. She’s his canonical kid, and plenty of other people have written breeding kink fics that start off with the Reader interacting with a child. If it really bothers people, I’ll take it out, but just don’t be weird about it, please

Written with an ftm!Reader in mind

Link to masterlist here

CW: breeding kink, mentions of lots of sex, indirect mentions of pregnancy, doggy style, could be read as ass play, mentions of breeding, no actual pregnancy occurs from the events of this fic, cuddling, teasing, kissing, Reader is referred to as hottie and as Scott’s boyfriend, ‘I love you’s, compliments

437 words

You’re not sure when it all started, but it definitely happened after you babysat Cassie for the first time.

The two of you had a blast, ending with Casie begging to come back and Scott with a look in his eyes you couldn’t figure out then.

You’re pretty sure that’s what started it.

Ever since then, Scott’s been… particularly interested in sex. Not that he wasn’t interested before, but now he’s almost hungry for it. Like he can’t get enough of you. It’s gratifying, in a way.

You tease him about it once and only once.

“God, Scott, it’s like you’re trying to put a baby in me or something.”

You missed his expression. You did not miss the way he practically pulled you into the bedroom.

Which leads you to now.

He’s fucking you deep. Gripping your hips and pounding into you with an intensity you didn’t know he had in him. You adore it, face to the bed and ass up with your legs spread wide.

“Scott! Scotty! Fuck!”

He groans and pulls you closer to him. “You’re so perfect. Could fuck you all day and never get enough.”

You moan in response. Arching your back to lift your ass higher. You cry out at the new angle, his dick hitting that perfect spot inside you. “Fuck, yes, right there!”

“Gonna, fuck, put a baby in you,” He groans out. “Gonna fill you up so nice and full.”

You squeeze his dick with your walls, moaning at his words. The idea, him breeding you, is unfathomably hot. You need it. You crave it.

You know it won’t really work. You’re taking something and he wouldn’t really force that on you. But the idea? Hot. As. Fuck.

He curses loudly, somehow bullying his dick even deeper inside you. Pressing himself firmly to the meat of your ass as he cums. You follow right after him, your body milking his dick for all its worth.

He pulls out, collapsing next to you on the bed and gathering you into his arms. He kisses you hard, letting you settle on top of him.

“Knew you were trying to put a baby in me,” you tease.

He groans and covers his eyes. “Don’t. I don’t think I can go again so soon.”

You laugh and press a kiss to his lips. “Can’t believe I get to be your boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe I get to be yours!” This time, his kiss is slow and sweet. “You’re perfection in a person.”

You laugh and rest your forehead against his. “I love you, Scott.”

He grins. “I love you too, hottie.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

「 take her under your wing AU 」

warnings: innocent!reader x various, stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, professor!peter parker, professor!reed richards, ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, professor!logan howlett, dark content, essentially everyone is soft!dark, college au, polyamory, idk what to tell you this is just porn

polls for the au

asks about the au

thots and blabber about the au

101, an intro to the au | pinterest board

masterlist | join my taglist 

FICS:

the many firsts

something in return

locked out

i dare you

what i say goes

too big

the basement

a long-awaited lesson

you’ll like it eventually

toying with her

the last one to know

the hotel room

REQUESTS:

gaming + intox kink (headcanons)

billy & frank catch you discovering billy’s toy collection (headcanons)

desperate to help (headcanons)

curtis helps you fall asleep (headcanons)

just the tip with professor reed richards, alternative ending to "a long-awaited lesson" (headcanons)

a gift for professor richards (headcanons)

somno with all of the boys (headcanons)

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[softearz]

𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑁 𝐸𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝑌 𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐸. — the anthology! ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

— work in progress ౨ৎ return to masterlist —

— WELCOME TO NEW YORK ౨ৎ joey tribbiani. chandler's sister didn't except anything from new york, maybe a job — but not love.

— BLANK SPACE ౨ৎ billy loomis. a romance of a girl who thinks she can change him, and a boy who has no intention of doing so.

— STYLE ౨ৎ eddie munson. don't we say that opposites attract? nobody would've expect hawkins' sweetheart to find love in the freak.

— OUT OF THE WOODS ౨ৎ draco malfoy. the story of a boy who can't seem to stay away from problems ; and a girl who's tired of fixing his mistakes.

— ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS STAY ౨ৎ tom ryder. he fucked up; he wants you back.

— SHAKE IT OFF ౨ৎ chrissy cunningham. you and your best friends decide that you don't need men anymore.

— I WISH YOU WOULD ౨ৎ steve harrington. you and steve broke up after an argument ; the thing is, neither of you want to stay away from the other.

— BAD BLOOD ౨ৎ hermione granger. academic rivals with the best two students in howgarts.

— WILDEST DREAMS ౨ৎ eliot. you think eliot is gonna leave you after sleeping with you ; he proves you otherwise.

— HOW YOU GET THE GIRL ౨ৎ eddie munson. when eddie comes knocking at his best friend's door to ask you advices about a girl he likes, you don't understand he talks about you.

— THIS LOVE ౨ৎ luna lovegood. after looking love everywhere, you realize it's been in front of you all this time.

— I KNOW PLACES ౨ৎ tom!peter parker. fame when you're a superhero is heavy ; sometimes, you just need a little break from it.

— CLEAN ౨ৎ jake peralta. getting out of a toxic relationship, an unlikely friendship forms between you and a police officer.

— WONDERLAND ౨ৎ quinn bailey. giving your trust is hard ; being betrayed once again feels too heavy.

— YOU ARE IN LOVE ౨ৎ chandler bing. two best friends (idiots) in love.

— NEW ROMANTICS ౨ৎ loki laufeyson. you should've known dating the infamous god of mischief would've turned into a betrayal ; once again.

— SLUT! ౨ৎ cassie howard. when two of the most popular girls — who also happen to be friends — start dating, the rumors go hard; good thing you don't care what people say.

— SAY DON'T GO ౨ৎ stu macher. you knew your boyfriend was ghostface; you weren't sure why you didn't say anything to the police. what you didn't knew was that he didn't plan on keeping you alive.

— NOW THAT WE DON'T TALK ౨ৎ peter quill. after your childhood best friends left to join a new group, you decide to forget him ; but it's hard when he suddenly comes back into your life.

— SUBURBAN LEGENDS ౨ৎ robin buckley. you've been cheated on by your now ex-boyfriend ; good thing you have your friend to cheer you up.

— IS IT OVER NOW? ౨ৎ scott lang. scott lang just wante to spend a nice sunday afternoon with his daughter ; he didn't expect you to knock at his door in tears after a bad breakup.

softearz © ─ all rights reserved!

[kaivenom]

How would you meet the avengers' men

A/N: I know this is very long, if someone wants a one shot about some of these, tell me about it. This is an attempt to remember the good days of Marvel and these awesome man.

Masterlist

Steve Rogers:

You where a new agent in S.H.I.E.L.D and you got assigned to be the supervisor when Steve woke up from the ice.

He was scared about the new era, the technology and all the things but you tried to teach him the best you can about the 21th century.

At some point he got so used to your presence that invited you to take dinner. The night was so pleasasnt that you decided to set the sundays as a 'study period' to do outside.

Bucky:

You were his neighbor at Bucarest and when you heard that someone was moving on you decided to welcome him to the comunity. He got very surprised to see you being so nice to him.

Since then you start to meet many times, ussually in the market. Or in the stairs of the building but he never said more than three or four words, you thought he didn't like.

One day you were carrying a large amount of purchase and he appeared, seeing that you needed help he took some of the bags and you two started going up stairs. He looked nervous but soon started to start a conversation with you. He wasn't very good at it, it was clear that he didn't socialize very often.

From that time he began to talk to you more often when you coincided.

Bruce Banner:

You were sent to Banner's lab to help him with his experiments, especially they selected you because you have a psychology degree and Fury expected you to know how to calm him down if something happens.

The time you got there, Bruce made you work instantly. He was rude and strict. Weeks passed by and at some point you started to get annoyed about his attitude towards you because you didn't do anything to get him angry.

When you aproached him about it he started to say that he was reaching your limits to see where was your limit, because everyone will abandon him. You confronted him about it using all your psychological skills from university, trying to figure out his personality.

He didn't like it, even the Hulk started to show up, seeing that you got on his nerves that much, it was time to show up your mediation skills. He was surprised to see that you got to calm down the Hulk, from that day he started to be more nice at work.

Clint Barton:

Being new on S.H.I.E.L.D and being an awesome archer was something that Clint didn't take well. First started with showing off on the training season, then continued to get on your way on missions.

It was after that you saved his life that he started to calm down with the competitive aspect. Though it didn't disappear, it was easier to cope with it.

Especially because you aren't really good at socializing, at some point Clint realized that and started to be more close to you and include you on plans with other agents.

When you discovered you thought it was because he felt pity about you, after some discussion he said that he felt the same. Being an archer when everyone has guns can be a little isolating from partners and he didn't want you to feel that way.

After that you two started to be inseparable, although you didn't leave the competitive side.

Peter Quill:

You hired the famous Guardians of the Galaxy to get you an object that was stolen from you. Apart from the fact that Quill was just coming in to get extra information about the case every time he can, he even tried haggling for payment.

He tried to add a date with you to your previous agreedment. You tried to decline it, but then you realized that you both where humans but you were never on earth. So that could be the perfect time to see a true human experience like a romantic date.

You accepted and at the end, you were very excited about it. He took you to take dinner and then some drinks in a club. You danced until sunrise and ended up having a very good night.

You thought he would try to make you go to bed with him but he was even more lost in the music than you. It was very fun and you hope to hire them again if that would be the price.

Peter Parker:

Being a new student at Queen's high school was difficult, even more if you didn't fit quite well with other girls or anyone popular.

Then appeared like a miracle, the science club, maybe you can make some lab friends there. When you got there you saw to boys, one was especially cute

They seemed very surprised to see someone there, they asked you if you were lost and when you said It was because you liked to join then it was like a blessing to them. Apparently they dont have many females in the club, they were exited.

The boy named Peter asked if you needed help to know the high school, the classes or anything. You accepted the help and was one of the best mornings you could have, from that day you pass almost all your time on the science club, especially with Peter.

Thor:

You were a sorcerer well known on Asgard. One day he appeared asking for you help and you accepted, after all he was the prince.

After that and some awkard flirting from his side while you were casting the spell, he started to ask for your help more often.

There was a point where it wasn't even credible anymore and It was very obvious that he wanted some excuse to see you.

After confronting him about that behaviour he tried to deny It, but when you said that if he wanted to get you on a date all he need to do it ask, he inmediatly regretted his words and asked you out.

Pietro Maximoff

(in this i imagine he is still alive)

Sokovian invassion, the worst day possible you can have. Dangerous robots and some strange blue and white lighting appearing on the street from time to time. You took a gun and started evacuating all the people you can, you were no soldier or superhero but seeing children being in danger wasn't your preference.

When you saw the strange lighting again you shot it. It turned out that wasn't a robot, it was a men. At least the bullet only skimed his arm but the discontent on his face was obvious. You yelled an apology and when he saw the kids behind you he took them to the evacuation transport.

You didn't let him take you there and obliged him to escort you while you continue to save some people. After someone shoot you on the arm he took you to the transport without the posibility to complain from your part.

Later when all the disaster passed, he searched for you and invited you to dinner, in expense for shooting him.

Tony Stark:

You were an interviewer of the news, one day your boss decided that you would do an articule about Iron man.

You spent the next three months investigation and searching everything you could find about the millionare. And finally you published your work.

Instantly your report was really popular and in a couple of days Tony Stark was at your job, he was looking for you.

When your boss left him on your office, mister Stark started to ask you questions about why you wrote that things and quarrel you about not asking for a private interview with him. When you said that to already did that and ended up with a refusal he said it was a mistake, so he gave you a date.

When the day came, he was really excentric and full of pride trying to flirt with you but after seeing your compromise, stopped little by little on his attempts... at least during the interview, after that he invited you to another date, this time more casual.

Sam Wilson:

This is simple, you two were recluts on S.H.I.E.L.D at the same time, this included rivarly, competitions and you dying of jealousy when he got into the avengers.

You decided to try to ascend the more you can on the hierarchy of S.H.I.E.L.D's comands and you succeded.

After a couple of years you had to supervise an international secret mission that was shared with the avengers so you two encountered. He was shocked to see that you got so far and you made fun of his wings. That resulted in your rivarly to be reactivated during the mission.

When quest ended successfully he offered you to train together again. You accepted and started to spent at least one morning of the week kicking his ass.

Scott Lang

You were the babbysitter of Cassie, provided by the police to be there if it was a problem because she is the daughter of a superhero. The thing it's that you didn't met Ant-man yet because he was on house arrest.

Until one day he showed on the door, without the ankle strap, you supposed his sentenced finished. He was suprised too, someone new was on the house playing with his daughter.

The day was really funny, he was funny, you two instanly connected and tried to make the best day for Cassie.

A couple of days you discovered that he escaped from the house arrest, when he showed up again a couple of days later you aproached him about it. When he didn't take you seriously you sent him to the ground with a fight technique, he didn't expected you to be a trained agent.

After all you had to be more permissive because the man loved his daughter a lot and you can't take that from him. You keeped and eye on him and the surroundings, but the day was as funny as the first day.

Bonus Loki

You were a librarian on Earth, a friend of Jane Foster. One day Thor appeared with his brother. You heard about him, especially after New York's invasion but he didn't look like a maniac.

It was charming, aside from the dislike and upset he appeared to had from being on earth. While Thor was with Jane, he started to look at the books with a annoyed face. You decided to aproach him and offer your help, in the end this was your library.

At first he didn't quite like your presence and he made it clear, but during the evening, your book recomendation's made him change a little his mind.

He started to acompany more his brother to the library and started at some point taking books with him, making a license was very funny. There was a time that he started to bring books from Asgard to you and incredibly, he offered himself to teach you magic. In his words, someone with that much knowledge should be able to used it.

The afternoons on your small library started to be very intriguing.

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Reader (Part.2)

How they react when you are angry with them (Part.2)

Characters: Loki Laufeyson, T'Challa, Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Scott Lang, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, Matt Murdock & Frank Castle

Loki Laufeyson

- When Loki senses your anger, his reaction is one of mild panic hidden behind a mask of indifference. He’s not used to dealing with his emotions head-on, so he may initially act dismissive, trying to pretend it doesn’t bother him. But as the tension lingers, he realizes he can’t stand the thought of you being upset with him, and he knows he’ll have to address it.

- Loki’s first attempt to make amends is usually manipulative charm. He’ll try to win you over with clever words, even playing the victim a little if he thinks it might work. But when he sees that you’re genuinely hurt, he drops the act. His apology, when it finally comes, is quiet and almost vulnerable, a rare moment of honesty where he admits he hates the thought of you being unhappy with him.

- To make it up to you, Loki does something truly meaningful and personal. Maybe it’s a gift tied to a private memory you share, or a show of his magic in a way that’s tender rather than grand. He wants you to know he’s put thought into it, going out of his way to make you feel special. It’s his way of showing that he’s willing to try for you, even if vulnerability isn’t his strong suit.

- As you begin to soften, Loki opens up more than he usually would. He lets down his walls a little, talking about the parts of himself he usually keeps hidden. He’ll even joke about how “you must be the real trickster” if you’ve managed to make him care this much. Beneath the teasing, he’s genuinely grateful that you’re willing to give him another chance.

- When you forgive him, Loki’s relief is palpable. He gives you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead, his hands lingering as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He might joke that you’re too good for him, but there’s something uncharacteristically sincere in his voice. Loki knows he doesn’t deserve you, but he’s grateful all the same, and he silently vows to make sure he never drives you away again.

T’Challa

- When T’Challa realizes you’re upset with him, he immediately takes it to heart. He’s a leader, used to taking responsibility, and seeing you angry makes him instantly reflective. He approaches the situation with calmness, his face serious but soft, wanting to understand what went wrong. He respects you deeply and is ready to listen without judgment.

- T’Challa’s apology is direct and sincere. He’s never one to evade responsibility, and he owns up to his mistakes without hesitation. He’ll look you in the eyes, telling you how much he values your feelings and that he’s truly sorry for any hurt he’s caused. His words are heartfelt, and there’s a quiet strength in his voice as he assures you that he’ll work to make things right.

- To make amends, T’Challa chooses something deeply meaningful, likely a private moment where he can focus solely on you. Maybe it’s a walk through a quiet part of Wakanda’s gardens or a peaceful night under the stars, giving you his undivided attention. He’s regal yet humble, and he makes sure you feel appreciated and respected, knowing that actions speak louder than words.

- Throughout the time he spends making it up to you, T’Challa is gentle and attentive, his presence a calming force. He’s careful to show you through his actions that he cares about your happiness, making sure you feel seen and valued. He might open up about the challenges he faces as a leader and how much he relies on your support, wanting you to know that you are his anchor.

- When you finally forgive him, T’Challa’s relief is warm and heartfelt. He pulls you into a close embrace, holding you tightly, his hand lingering on your back as if grounding himself. He thanks you for your patience and promises to always consider your feelings. T’Challa values loyalty and love, and he’s deeply committed to making sure your relationship is built on trust and understanding.

Marc Spector

- When Marc realizes you’re angry with him, he’s immediately defensive, his body language tensing up as he prepares for confrontation. He’s used to keeping his guard up, even with those he cares about, so he doesn’t respond well to criticism at first. His instinct is to pull away, maybe even avoiding you for a bit as he tries to process what’s happening.

- After he’s had time to cool off, Marc comes back, his expression serious and his tone softer. He hates apologizing, but he hates the thought of losing you even more, so he does his best to be open. His words are a bit clumsy, and he struggles to be vulnerable, but his honesty is evident. He tells you he’s not great at this kind of thing, but he values you enough to try.

- Marc’s way of making it up to you is practical and thoughtful. He might surprise you with something you mentioned in passing, or he’ll fix something around the house that’s been bothering you. Marc doesn’t do big romantic gestures, but he shows his care through small, meaningful actions, hoping you’ll see the effort he’s putting in to make things right.

- When you start to soften, Marc’s demeanor becomes gentler, more comfortable. He opens up a bit more, talking about how hard it is for him to trust people and how much it means to him that you’re still here. He’s careful with his words, but his sincerity shines through. You can tell he’s genuinely trying to let his guard down for you.

- When you forgive him, Marc pulls you into a tight hug, holding on longer than usual, as if grounding himself in your presence. He doesn’t say much, but his embrace is warm and reassuring. For Marc, actions speak louder than words, and his quiet, steady affection is his way of showing that he’s grateful for your forgiveness and that he’s committed to you.

Steven Grant

- When Steven realizes you’re angry with him, he’s immediately flustered, his expression filled with concern and confusion. He’s not used to upsetting people, and it bothers him deeply that he’s somehow hurt you. He’ll ask, in a soft and anxious voice, “Did I do something wrong?” his eyes wide with worry as he desperately tries to understand what went wrong.

- Steven listens carefully as you explain why you’re upset, nodding along and taking in every word. He’s genuinely apologetic, his voice soft and sincere as he says he’s sorry. Steven is open about his feelings, admitting that he sometimes makes mistakes without realizing it, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.

- To make amends, Steven will put together a thoughtful, heartfelt gift for you. It might be something personal, like a handwritten note explaining how much he values you, or he might buy you a small trinket that reminded him of you. He’s sentimental, and his effort to make it up to you is sincere, filled with little details that show how much he cares.

- Steven is extra attentive after the apology, going out of his way to be thoughtful and supportive. He’s always asking if there’s anything he can do for you, maybe even cooking your favorite meal or suggesting a quiet night in to relax together. Steven’s kindness and warmth make it hard to stay upset, and he does everything he can to show you that he’s there for you.

- When you finally forgive him, Steven’s relief is immediate and obvious. He beams at you, pulling you into a gentle hug, his touch soft and affectionate. He’ll murmur about how lucky he feels to have you in his life, and he’s grateful for your patience. Steven’s love is earnest and wholehearted, and he promises himself that he’ll try even harder to make you happy.

Jake Lockley

- Jake’s reaction to your anger is a bit unconventional; he’s not one to openly apologize or make a big deal out of things. When he first realizes you’re mad at him, he keeps his cool, almost acting indifferent. But beneath the calm facade, he’s carefully observing, figuring out exactly how to approach the situation without making things worse.

- Jake may not be the most verbal with apologies, but he’ll pull you aside and, in a quiet, serious tone, tell you that he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s direct and to the point, admitting that he’s not the best at this “feelings” stuff but that he does care about you. His words are simple yet genuine, and you can tell he’s making an effort in his own way.

- To make things up to you, Jake does something unexpected and a little daring, like taking you out on a thrilling adventure or a drive to a scenic spot he knows you’ll love. Jake isn’t one for flowers and love notes; he expresses his affection through bold, memorable experiences that bring you closer. He hopes the thrill and excitement will help mend things between you.

- Once things start to ease, Jake becomes more attentive and protective. He’s the type to keep an eye on you, making sure you’re safe and happy, even if he doesn’t say much about it. His subtle actions, like putting his arm around you or keeping you close, show that he’s invested in you and wants to keep you by his side.

- When you finally forgive him, Jake’s reaction is understated but genuine. He’ll give you a small, satisfied smirk, pulling you into a brief yet affectionate hug. He might whisper something like, “Knew you couldn’t stay mad at me,” with a playful glint in his eyes. Jake’s love is quiet but intense, and he’s grateful to have you in his life, even if he doesn’t always show it with words.

Scott Lang

- When Scott realizes you’re angry with him, his first reaction is a bit panicked, his eyes widening as he tries to figure out what he did wrong. He’s naturally lighthearted and doesn’t like conflict, so he immediately tries to lighten the mood, maybe cracking a joke or two to ease the tension. When he realizes you’re not laughing, though, he knows he has to be serious.

- Scott’s apology is genuine and a little rambling. He’s awkward, tripping over his words as he tries to explain himself, but his sincerity is obvious. Scott doesn’t try to deflect blame or make excuses; instead, he’s honest about his mistakes, even poking fun at himself a bit to show he’s willing to take responsibility. He’ll say something like, “I’m a bit of a mess, but I’m your mess… if you’ll still have me.”

- To make it up to you, Scott goes all out in his own quirky way. He might plan a fun, silly date that’s just the two of you, or he’ll do something offbeat and heartfelt, like creating a mini scavenger hunt with little notes and clues he’s hidden around. Scott’s got a big heart, and his way of apologizing is playful, thoughtful, and just a little over-the-top.

- As you start to soften, Scott becomes even more attentive, peppering you with sweet gestures and affectionate touches. He’s incredibly open with his feelings, constantly reminding you how much you mean to him and how lucky he feels to have you. Scott’s love is enthusiastic, warm, and reassuring, and he’ll do everything he can to make you feel appreciated.

- When you forgive him, Scott’s relief is immediate and heartwarming. He breaks into a huge smile, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a big, exuberant hug. He’s incredibly grateful, telling you over and over how much he loves you and how he’ll try harder not to mess things up again. Scott’s love is vibrant and genuine, and he makes sure you know just how much you mean to him.

Wade Wilson

- When Wade realizes you’re angry with him, he’s quick to act dramatically hurt, clutching his chest like he’s been shot and whispering, “Betrayal… by my one true love!” He’ll follow you around, trying to make you laugh with exaggerated groans and over-the-top pleas for mercy. But when he realizes you’re genuinely upset, he dials back the antics (well, a little) and asks what he did wrong, his voice a bit softer.

- Wade’s apology is both heartfelt and a complete mess. He stumbles through it, alternating between cracking inappropriate jokes and telling you he’s sorry in his own awkward, sincere way. His mouth runs a mile a minute as he promises he didn’t mean to mess things up and insists he’d do anything to make you smile again. It’s clear he’s trying, even if he’s not great at keeping it serious.

- Wade’s attempt to make it up to you is pure, chaotic Wade. He might surprise you with a random gift, like a stuffed unicorn, or even write you a (terrible) poem in crayon that’s equal parts hilarious and surprisingly sweet. He’s not big on traditional romance, but he knows how to keep things memorable. His efforts are ridiculous, but his heart’s in the right place, and he’s hoping you’ll find his weirdness endearing enough to forgive him.

- As you begin to soften, Wade becomes more openly affectionate, toning down the jokes just enough to let his softer side show. He’ll look at you with wide, hopeful eyes, holding your hand tightly and telling you he’s genuinely sorry. He’ll even admit he’s scared of losing you, which, for Wade, is about as vulnerable as he gets.

- When you finally forgive him, Wade’s relief is palpable. He breaks into a huge grin, shouting, “Yes! I knew you couldn’t resist all this!” He’ll probably tackle you in a playful hug, peppering you with sloppy kisses and laughing as he holds you close. Wade’s love is chaotic, messy, and intense, and he makes sure you know that he’s beyond grateful to have you back.

Logan Howlett

- When Logan realizes you’re angry with him, his first reaction is to clam up. He doesn’t handle emotions well and tends to avoid confrontation, so he might retreat to brood alone for a while, hoping you’ll cool off. But as he stews over things, he realizes he can’t stand the thought of you being upset with him, and he knows he has to make things right.

- Logan’s apology, when it finally comes, is quiet but heartfelt. He doesn’t waste words, simply telling you he messed up and that he’s sorry. There’s a rough sincerity in his voice, a hint of vulnerability that he rarely lets show. He might even mutter something like, “I don’t know how to do this… but I care about you,” his gaze steady as he waits to see if you’ll give him another chance.

- To make it up to you, Logan’s approach is practical but meaningful. He might cook a quiet dinner for the two of you or take you somewhere peaceful where you can talk things through. Logan doesn’t do grand gestures, but his actions are thoughtful, showing that he’s listening and genuinely wants to make amends. His way of caring is subtle, but it’s filled with raw sincerity.

- As you begin to soften, Logan grows more relaxed and open, reaching for your hand or placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. He may not say much, but his quiet presence is grounding, and he lets you know through small, affectionate gestures that he’s there for you. Logan’s touch is gentle, steady, and reassuring, making it hard to stay mad at him.

- When you forgive him, Logan’s response is understated but warm. He gives you a slight smile, a rare softness in his gaze as he pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. He murmurs something like, “Don’t know what I’d do without you,” his voice gruff but sincere. Logan’s love is steady and intense, and he makes sure you know he’s committed to you.

Matthew Murdock

- When Matt realizes you’re angry with him, he’s immediately worried, his heightened senses picking up on your every movement and sigh. He tries to talk to you, asking gently, “Are you upset?” as he tilts his head in concern. Matt’s naturally empathetic, and it bothers him deeply that he’s hurt you, so he’ll listen closely as you explain what went wrong, taking in every word.

- Matt’s apology is calm and sincere. He admits that he makes mistakes, especially when he’s caught up in his own battles, and he apologizes for any hurt he’s caused you. He’s not one to hide from his flaws, so his apology is straightforward and honest. He tells you how much he values your presence in his life and that he wants to make things right, his voice soft and genuine.

- To make amends, Matt goes out of his way to plan a thoughtful evening for you. Maybe it’s a quiet dinner at home where he can give you his undivided attention, or a peaceful walk through a spot you both love. Matt’s incredibly attentive, always picking up on what makes you feel special, and he uses these details to make his apology feel personal and meaningful.

- As you begin to soften, Matt’s relief is visible, and he becomes even more attentive. He holds your hand, brushes a gentle thumb over your knuckles, and speaks in a soft, affectionate tone. Matt’s world can be dark and filled with pain, but he finds comfort in you, and he makes sure you know how much he appreciates your patience and love.

- When you finally forgive him, Matt smiles, his expression soft and full of warmth. He pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and tells you how grateful he is to have you in his life. Matt’s love is calm and steady, and he promises that he’ll try his best to balance his own battles with making you feel loved and appreciated.

Frank Castle

- When Frank realizes you’re angry with him, his reaction is a mix of confusion and frustration. He’s not used to dealing with feelings in a healthy way, and his instinct is to shut down or brush it off. But when he sees that you’re genuinely upset, his defenses start to waver, and he realizes he needs to do something to make it right.

- Frank’s apology is rough around the edges. He’s not great with words, but he’ll mutter a gruff “I’m sorry” and look at you with a steady, serious gaze. He’ll admit he doesn’t always handle things well, but he’s trying to be better for you. His apology is raw, straightforward, and filled with the kind of honesty that only Frank can deliver.

- To make it up to you, Frank’s approach is quiet and thoughtful. He might bring you something meaningful, like a small trinket he thought you’d like, or he’ll simply spend time with you in a way that shows he’s committed. Frank’s gestures aren’t grand, but they’re heartfelt, and he makes sure you know he cares in his own reserved way.

- As you begin to soften, Frank’s demeanor becomes more gentle and open. He’s careful with his touch, maybe placing a comforting hand on your shoulder or pulling you close, his presence solid and reassuring. Frank may not say much, but his actions speak volumes, and he lets you know through quiet moments of affection that he’s grateful for your forgiveness.

- When you finally forgive him, Frank’s relief is visible in his softened gaze and the way he holds you a little closer. He’ll wrap his arms around you, his embrace protective and strong, as if silently vowing to never let you go. Frank’s love is intense, raw, and unwavering, and he’s deeply grateful to have someone like you willing to stay by his side.

[annmaximoff18]

Scott:How funny, I came here and found two women fighting

Y/N: oh really?

Scott:Yes, a redhead and a brunette were giving each other good slaps.

Y/N: wait, you said redhead?

Scott:Yeah

Y/N: How was the redhead dressed?

Scott:red sweatshirt and blue jeans, why?

Y/N: shit, It's Wanda, my wife.

Scott: your wife?...oh shit