natasha wilde

Carol and Kamala: Blackjack!
Jess: Team Mizzcap for the win again— as the crowd goes wild!
Natasha: Wait. Wait, I got it. Hashtag Women of Mar-Vell.
Thor: Mizzcap? Arent they supposed to hate each other?
Natasha: Keep up, Thor. I’m wearing a tutu. This is a dream.

From The Mighty Captain Marvel #0 by Margaret Stohl and Emilio Laiso / Ramon Rosanas.

Guess who wrote some more Steve/Tony/Bucky/Natasha???? It’s me. Why.

God, this safe house had seen better days.

Steve wrinkled his nose at the tiny cot and moldy-smelling sheets and wondered if he could handle staying awake one more day.

“I need the bathroom right now immediately,” Tony began, and hustled in the direction Natasha had pointed in.

Bucky put his hands on his hips and looked around, frowning. “Would it make you feel better or worse to know that Hydra had worse?”

“Shut up,” Natasha said tiredly, prepared to flop onto the cot, then apparently thought better of it and sat down on the floor.

Steve followed suit. He was quite tired. Who knew that accepting Tony’s offer to go with him on a trip to a public speaking event meant that they’d get chased down by both AIM and Hydra? At least they had been wearing casual clothes and sneakers. Tony had had to ditch his suit jacket and steal a hoodie to try and blend in with the crowd, and he was still wearing his loafers.

“You okay, Tony?” Steve asked after realizing they hadn’t heard him in quite some time.

Both Bucky and Natasha turned toward the bathroom door in concern when no response was forthcoming.

“…Tony?” Steve asked again, getting to his feet.

The doorknob jiggled and then there was a sad-sounding squeak. “Oh no.”

Bucky and Natasha were immediately on their feet as well. “What?!”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Tony said, honestly sounding like he might cry. “I can’t get out because the doorknob broke.”

“Aw,” Natasha whispered, looking amused and sympathetic all at once. She smacked Steve’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “Help him, Steve.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the knob on their side.

“…You fucking idiot,” Bucky whispered gleefully as he gaped down at the doorknob in his hand.

“Steve?” Tony asked plaintively.

“Just—just a second, honey,” Steve said, turning back to Natasha with wild eyes and motioning at the door.

Natasha rolled her eyes and sighed. “My gear won’t help if there isn’t a lock to pick.”

“What?” Tony’s voice went higher in pitch. “What are you talking about, what do you mean there isn’t a lock—”

“Get in the bathtub, sweetheart,” Bucky sighed.

“What why? What’s going on?”

Get in the bathtub.

There was a pause as they listened to him shuffle around, and then, “Why am I in the bathtub?”

Bucky slammed his heel into what was left of the doorknob, causing the wood around it to shatter and the door to burst inward. Tony yelped as it ricocheted off the tub, ducking further into it and covering his head against the splinters.

Bucky stepped into the bathroom and reached down to scoop him up despite the lack of space usually needed to do so. “I gotcha, doll.”

“What a hellish day,” Tony complained, hiding his face against Bucky’s shoulder. “Everyone should cuddle me.”

“We can do that,” Natasha answered immediately, elbowing Steve in the side. “Steve.

He looked at her in confusion. “Wh—oh,” he whispered, looking around wildly, then hid the doorknob under the cot.

“Gimme,” Natasha said with just a touch of murder.

Bucky held his hands up to allow her to curl around Tony on his lap. “You know you don’t have to use the murder voice, right? You and Tony weigh, like. Five pounds.” He patted the floor beside him for Steve. “Especially when you spread out over both our laps.”

“I weigh at least five pounds all by myself,” Tony grumbled. He plopped his feet into Steve’s lap. “Rub these please.”

Steve gently pulled off one loafer and grimaced. “Aw, honey.

Natasha and Bucky whipped around to look and let out sympathetic sounds when they saw his bloody sock. And he hadn’t even complained once.

“I think there’s supposed to be a first-aid kit here,” Natasha offered, standing again. “Hold tight, Tony.”

Tony muttered to himself about how he’d been holding her tight, but whatever. Bucky and Steve fought valiantly not to find that adorable and failed. She returned shortly with what was quite possibly the tiniest first-aid kit they’d ever seen. It did have bandages and Neosporin though, so Steve didn’t judge it too harshly, instead delicately peeling off Tony’s sock.

“Ow,” Tony couldn’t help but whimper, hiding his face in Bucky’s shoulder again.

“Shh, honey, I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, grimacing at all the burst blisters on Tony’s foot. “We’ll get this fixed up.”

“What do you mean ‘we,’” Natasha began, because she was disgusted by feet, only to jolt backward. “Jesus Christ.

Bucky scowled at her, lifting a hand to pat Tony’s back as he tried to pull his foot away so she didn’t have to see it. Luckily Steve had gotten a good grip of his ankle the moment he’d seen Natasha look in his direction.

“I mean. Oh dear,” Natasha said haltingly, opening the Neosporin. “Why didn’t you say anything, Tony?”

“We needed to get to cover.”

Steve smiled sadly. “You did a good job, honey.”

“Gross, gross, gross,” Natasha whispered, squirting Neosporin on all of his blisters. “C’mon, Steve.”

Steve began bandaging his foot carefully. “We’ve got you, Tony.”

“’m sorry,” Tony said softly, shoulders sagging. “This was supposed to be fun. I was gonna take you guys out to dinner. Maybe see a show. Just… do something that wasn’t life-threatening for once.”

“It’s not your fault,” Natasha said immediately. “You can still do that when this blows over, too. We can even go for something exotic and heinously expensive.”

Bucky hurried to agree with her. “Yeah, doll, let’s try something new.”

“Right,” Steve added after Natasha prodded his shoulder impatiently. “I’m trying to concentrate, Natasha.”

Tony choked on a sad laugh. “I must look bad if you’re all agreeing to something heinously expensive.”

“Fine,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. “Just ridiculously expensive then. Will you stop moving your foot?”

“You guys are mean. I’m breaking up with you. I’m going to date Sam, Bruce, and Thor instead.”

“You love to dress Natasha up too much to break up with her,” Bucky began.

“Thor would look good in dresses too!” Tony burst out.

While Bucky and Steve were stunned, Natasha just shrugged. “No, it’s true. He’s just sad most Midgardian dresses won’t fit him.”

Bucky and Steve choked.

“What the fuck, Natasha?!” Steve and Bucky shouted the next day as she raced away, carrying Tony on her back.

“You snooze, you lose, suckers!” Natasha called back over Tony’s giggles, grinning when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders tighter and urged her faster.

can I just share with y'all how dumb I am

I legit NEVER NOTICED that Natasha was actually in the poof scene of Season 1 Episode 16 BEFORE Carmilla “appears” in the bedroom from a cloud of black smoke.

Here’s the first still lit up a bit



  • Steve: why did you dye your hair blonde
  • Natasha: I thought you preferred blondes, after all they have more fun
  • Steve: oh yeah? Well actually I prefer redheads
  • Natasha: and why's that?
  • Steve *grins and pulls Natasha close*: because they're wild and excited me more
Langst Playlist

I thought I’d share some of the songs that I listen to or am reminded of when I go through the langst tag. I really recommend giving some of these a listen, and I’ll explain why for some.
1. Beautiful - Christina Aguilera
- Because it’s empowering and Lance needs some of that
2. Beautiful Soul - Jesse McCartney
3. Drops of Jupiter - Train
4. Heavy - LINKIN PARK (feat. Kiiara)
5. Driver - Billy Raffoul
6. Never Be Like You - Flume
- just the lyRICS aRe So gOOd??? Like, for example:
Stop looking at me with those eyes
Like I could disappear and you wouldn’t care why
Now I’m fucked up and I’m missing you
Never be like you
- Definitely a Klangst song
7. Lean on Me - Glee Cast
- Mercedes and Lance are really similar to me, because they’re both divas and confident, but have issues that they struggle with, and struggle with communicating to others, especially after being looked down upon for not being like other people, or not being the favorite
8. Rise Up - Andra Day
9. I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing - Kat Robichaud
10. Feel Again - OneRepublic
11. Alive -Sia
12. FOOLS - Troye Sivan
13. Fight Song - Rachel Platten
14. Wild Horses - Natasha Bedingfield
15. Part of Me - Katy Perry
16. I’ll Follow You - Shinedown
17. Invincible - Kelly Clarkson
18. When I Look to the Sky - Train
- This is more for the Lance’s family posts that mention Lance’s lifelong love for the stars
19. Take Me Home - Jess Glynne
20. Listen - Beyoncé

the past is the past

Carry On Countdown Day 6: Early/Next Gen

Lucy/Natasha (it sounds weird, but just trust me here)

The worst thing about seeing Natasha with Malcolm was how hard she always looked.

She had her dark hair pulled into a tight topknot and her mouth pressed into a harsh line, and she stood there, stiff as a statue, in her uniform. He towered over her, but she still didn’t look small. Lucy wasn’t sure if Natasha could look small. She was so tall and elegant, streamlined from her head to her feet. She commanded the attention in a room without a word. People listened to her. People respected her. But they weren’t afraid of her- when she smiled at you, it was impossible to be afraid of anything.

It was astonishing to Lucy how many people told her they were a “cute couple”. She didn’t see it at all. What she saw was her beautiful best friend, condensed into a lesser version of herself, standing next to a man that didn’t love her nearly as much as she deserved to be loved. And it drove her insane.

The worst thing about seeing Lucy with Davy was how happy she always looked.

Of course, Lucy was a happy-go-lucky person, with her crazy bronze curls springing out in all directions from her head and her lively blue eyes sparkling. She would lean into his shoulder and say something quietly, and he would furrow his eyebrows like he was angry, and then as if by magic, they would burst out laughing at what seemed to be the funniest thing in the world.

Not that there was anything wrong with Malcolm. He was a handsome guy, sturdy and serious about his studies. He treated her like a princess. And he was powerful.

But power wasn’t what Natasha wanted.

She wanted wild golden hair and sloping hips and crinkles at the edges of baby blues that seemed to dance and twirl and glow- eyes that held the universe inside of them. She wanted soft, pink lips and straight, white teeth and a crooked nose dotted with freckles. But that was what Davy had, and Malcolm was what Natasha had, and that was the way it was.

Well, not always.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Natasha breathed into the delicate skin of Lucy’s neck as Lucy tugged her hair free from its hair tie. It tumbled down and spilled around her shoulders.

“You look better with your hair down,” Lucy replied, ignoring Natasha’s statement. She was standing and Natasha sat on the bed. Lucy eased her way into the other girl’s lap, hooking one finger into the breast pocket of Natasha’s jacket. She wrapped her legs around Natasha’s middle and leaned in, pressing a feverish kiss just below the other girl’s ear.

“Really, Lucy, we can’t-”

“I know,” Lucy cooed, stroking Natasha’s hair and leaning in. The tips of their noses just brushed, and Natasha’s eyes looked like melting ice. “But we’re going to anyway.” She trailed her fingers down the sides of Natasha’s face and to her neck, then leaned in closer and kissed her. Natasha melted into her embrace, all protests long gone.

She deserved to be happy sometimes, didn’t she?

Her body answered for her as her hands began playing with the hem of Lucy’s pajama shirt. Lucy’s hair was still damp from showering and when it fell in her face and onto Natasha, it send a chill down Natasha’s spine. “How come you were back so late?” Lucy asked, breaking the kiss.

“I was helping Malcolm with his Elocution homework,” Natasha said, nuzzling into the crook of Lucy’s shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about him right now.” She slipped her hand further up into the hem of Lucy’s shirt.

“What do you want to talk about?” Lucy teased, leaning into Natasha. They tumbled backward onto the bed, laughing. Lucy wiggled her legs out from underneath Natasha.

“I don’t want to talk at all,” Natasha murmured, flipping Lucy over and tugging the shirt over her head. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

“We have to get up,” Natasha said reluctantly, pushing Lucy off her. She peeled herself out of the sheets and went towards the bathroom to run a shower.

“Don’t leave yet,” Lucy whined. She bunched the covers up around her chin. Natasha smiled.

“You look adorable,” she teased, but didn’t stop moving for the shower.

“Adorable enough for you to come back to bed for ten more minutes?”

“Not even close.”

When Lucy sat with Davy alone in the cafeteria, huddled into a corner, it felt wrong. She was with one of the few people she felt safe with, and they were having a good time, and eating good food, and it felt wrong.

When Natasha sat with Malcolm and his friends at a crowded, loud table, it felt wrong. Everyone was laughing and telling stories and she had a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders. And it just felt wrong.

What felt right was stolen moments in their room, holding hands under the guise of “best friends”, sneaking away into supply closets during dances.

What felt right was exactly what everyone else said wasn’t.

“Lucy, you know that I have no control over it! I have to marry him. It’s not my decision!”

“Of course it’s your decision!” Lucy cried, shoving Natasha away from her. She stood up off the bed so quickly she got dizzy. “You can do whatever you bloody well want!”

“Lucy, you don’t understand. I have to carry on the Pitch name. I have to marry one of the Grimms to secure family ties. It’s not a choice that I get to make, it’s been made for me for a long time.”

“I understand perfectly,” Lucy snarled, snatching her discarded skirt from the foot of the bed and pulling it up over her legs. “I’m not good enough for you or your stupid family, because I’m a girl. Because I’m not high status. I under-fucking-stand alright.”

“Don’t make this difficult,” Natasha started, standing up and walking towards her. Lucy lashed out, smacking her hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” Lucy sobbed. “You already made it difficult. It’s always been difficult.”

“That’s why we can’t do it anymore,” Natasha sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I love you, Lucy, you know that…”

“If you loved me,” Lucy whispered. “Then you would show me.”

“How do you expect me to do that? I’m risking everything for you already!”

“Show me by telling Malcolm that it isn’t going to work out.” She spat the name like poison on her tongue. “Show me by telling your parents that Fiona can pass on the bloody Pitch name.”

Natasha sat back down. “Lucy,” she tried, but it sounded wrong. It sounded strangled and choked, like a dying thought.

“I just want you to love me like I deserve, Tasha. I love you that way.”

“That’s why I have to stop. Because you deserve so much that I can’t give,” They were both crying now, the tears running hot down Natasha’s face. “I love you, but I love Malcolm, too, and I love my family.”

“Since when do you love him? Last I heard, you thought he had the personality of a piece of stale bread.”

“He’s different once you get to know him, I swear. He’s gentle and kind and… And he’s what I’m meant to have.” The last word broke, and with it went Lucy’s last straw.

“Alright. You’ve made yourself clear. I’ll leave. I’ll never talk about it again.” She paused, gauging Natasha’s reaction, but the other girl didn’t move a muscle. She just stared down at her knees in shame. “But don’t expect us to be friends. I never wanted to be ‘just friends’ with you, Tasha. I’m never going to want that.”

She went to the door and opened it, lingering for a second, hoping, praying to be called back. But she knew it was done. Natasha had made up her mind, and she’d probably made the right choice. Malcolm was the easier way, the one that made the most sense.

Lucy had always been a fluke.

Two boys kissed, sprawled out on a couch with a fire roaring quiet and steady in the old-fashioned fireplace. One was tall, with dark hair that fell over his face in waves. His jaw was sharp, his bones as thin and finely shaped as the stems of goblets. The other was rougher, with tumbling golden curls and smiling blue eyes. His t-shirt had a spaghetti stain on the front of it. Both looked just like their mothers.