Marvel Comic Whump/sick fics

Natasha: The Deep Magic

"If a willing Victim that has committed no treachery is killed in a traitor's stead, the Stone Table will crack; and even death itself would turn backwards." - Aslan 'The lion the witch the wardrobe'
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Natasha didn't know what she had thought death would be like, if she had been more of a religious women she would've thought she would be on Satans doorstep. Because she certainly didn't think she was worthy of heaven. But it wasn't at all that, maybe it was because there was the soul stone? Maybe she was forever trapped...somewhere? She didn't know, because once she had let go of Clint's hand there had only been darkness and quiet. She couldn't feel anything, she wasn't touching anything there was just this empty vast space of nothing. Maybe this was her penance, to be in this darkness forever, until she lost her mind or worse. She would do it again, in a heartbeat she would do it again. If it gave them a chance, any of them a chance she would leap off that ledge over and over again if it saved them. They had been all she had, in their crazy way they had been family. The family she had chosen, she wanted to pray to whoever was listening.

'Please let it have been enough, please let them be okay, please'

Natasha had no concept of time anymore, it didn't matter if her eyes were open or closed because there was just void. That is what she had taken to calling it, void, just this emptiness. She wanted to remember their faces, Bruce's wrinkled nose laugh before he had become more hulk than Bruce. Steve's eyeroll when anyone did anything he found slightly perplexing but also endearing. Thor's booming laugh that would shake the walls like thunder, Wanda and Vision sharing those secret shy smiles. Tony, that stupid man who's heart was bigger than he would ever let on. Clint's name rang in her mind, her best friend her partner in crime. His kids, his house, Laura...it hurt and that felt like something. She didn't want to forget even if it hurt. She wanted to always remember their happy faces and hoped they all had a chance at happy again.

The darkness was so much sometimes, he wanted to scream or cry but it was like those things were also just out of reach. Like she was underwater but it wasn't as thick but also not light, this forever downward spiral of dark. She prayed more now in death than she ever did in life, for some reason it just felt like it meant more here. She prayed for all of them, for safety for joy for anything she could think of. If she could sleep here, if there was such a thing she prayed she would dream in bright color just to see them again. But if this was her eternity, she would embrace it with her open arms if it saved them

'Please be okay, please let it be have been enough, please'

She wasn't sure if this plea was in English or in Russian, she didn't think there was language in this emptiness. No anything, it just...was. She didn't know how long she had been there when it had happened, if there even was time here maybe time was fickle here. It had no hold, she wasn't sure how she knew that but it seemed the most likely of answers, maybe she had become poetic in death. Or dramatic it would depend on who you asked, but just as the dark had been endless it was suddenly filled with pure white blinding light. It was so blinding that she had covered her eyes, curled into herself. Curled? She was laying down? On something hard, firm and solid not the space of void she had been in. She could've wept in her joy of the feeling, only to be gripped by fright. What was going on? She was still dead that much she was sure of but...

She turned her head and slowly opened her eyes, she saw a man there, maybe in his mid 30's with rich dark brown hair and golden olive skin. His eyes this melton brown that seemed to be deeper than anything she had ever seen. He was in dark blue jeans with sneakers and a dark blue tee-shirt and he was smiling at her. This broad white toothed smile that was pure happiness incarnate, like joy leeched from him in droves. She felt...safe...this man was kind she knew this even if she couldn't explain how. She sat up slowly, her long red hair bright out of the corner of her eye. Color, light and joy and safety this was far too good to be true, this had to be a dream or maybe some other form of torture. The man only smiled at her, a soft and gentle smile as if he could read he very thoughts. Her tongue felt heavy and unused but she was able to get out one question.