#marvel high school au

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part one)

natasha romanoff x fem reader (high school au)

You’ve been in love with your best friend’s sister ever since you first met her (who wouldn’t be?), and you were content to take these feelings to the grave. But when she begins to reciprocate, things get complicated, and you find yourself lying to almost everyone you know — including yourself.

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one (5k words) | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

You’ll never forget the fateful day that you laid eyes upon Natasha Romanoff for the first time. Even at the ripe age of seven, you knew you wanted her in your life forever.

Melina Vostokoff and Alexi Shostakov are your neighbours — they live right across the street, and they have done for as long as you can remember. On your fifth birthday, they came home from a trip to Russia with a daughter, Yelena. From the moment you laid eyes on one another, the two of you knew you were best friends. Neither sets of parents had any qualms on that (“oho, here comes trouble,” Alexi would say teasingly whenever the two of you came tearing into the room), and so even before Natasha’s arrival you spent more of your waking hours in their household than in your own.

One time, two years since Yelena entered your life and only a few weeks before Natasha’s arrival, you were playing in the sandy dirt down the back of Yelena’s house, and huffing in annoyance as it proved too fine to hold up as a sandcastle. You looked over at your best friend who was currently experiencing much more success in her own task, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she carefully stacked twigs to build a bug hotel, and without even thinking you asked, “why did you pick me? To be your friend?”

Yelena blinked, surprised, but placed a leaf on top of her miniature structure to serve as a roof before responding. “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeell,” you narrowed your eyes in thought, trying to figure out what it was that you meant, “we’ve just always been friends. And I like it, but I was like, why?”

She was quiet for a good few moments, and if you didn’t know the girl any better then you would have missed the slight cleft between her brows that means she’s formulating her next words, and you would’ve thought she was ignoring you. But you did know better, because she was your best friend, and that thought filled your tiny frame with joy.

“Sometimes when you meet people, it’s special,” she said eventually. “Like a puzzle, you know when they fit together? Like — like that,” she mimed two things slotting together with her fingers, and you nodded. “It happened for us, I think. It happened when my mom and dad met, they tell me all the time that dad loved mom from the moment he met her,” she wrinkled her nose, and you giggled. “And it happened for me and my sister in Russia.”

With that last statement, she’d caught your interest. Often in passing she’d mention her sister from the orphanage in Russia, where she’d been before Melina and Alexi had sorted out her visa to bring her back to their home in Ohio. You never quite knew how to respond to it, and she never elaborated beyond throwaway comments such as these, so you were fairly certain that this sister wasn’t even real until the day she was brought home.

And what a day that was; one that turned your life upside down forever. As far as you knew, when you first woke up, it was a day like any other. Another sunny morning of summer vacation. You woke up as bright and early as children annoyingly do and rushed to get ready to spend another day at Yelena’s house, no doubt irritating the shit out of her parents (who, to their credit, were very tolerant of you and Yelena’s seven-year-old antics). But once you’d knocked and stood fidgeting eagerly on their front porch, it wasn’t Yelena, or her parents, who opened the door.

No, it was an unfamiliar girl you were faced with — only one year older as you were soon to learn, but already an entire head taller than you. She looked down at you, face stony, and you stared back in confusion. There was no way this was the wrong house, you’d been coming here every day for the last two years, and you saw it every time you looked out of your bedroom window. So what was going on?

You found yourself remembering a Slavic children’s story Alexi had told you and Yelena last winter, late at night when you were curled up by the fire together drinking hot chocolate, about an old lady who had a house with chicken legs. The Baba Yaga, Alexi had called her. During the night her house would stand up and run away, and be gone from its previous spot the next morning; you found yourself wondering if this had happened to Yelena’s house too. Could any house have legs, or just the Baba Yaga’s house? You’d have to ask Alexi — once you tracked down his runaway house, of course.

“Y/N,” a voice squealed from behind the unfamiliar girl, and Yelena’s face poked out from behind her. “Y/N this is my sister! From Russia, her name is Natasha.”

“You are Yelena’s best friend?” Natasha asked softly, a gentle Russian lilt to her words. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And just like Yelena had described to you, you looked up at Natasha and something just clicked. Something aligned; a puzzle piece you hadn’t even known you were missing slotted into place.

You knew even then that you wanted to be around her forever.

It’s been ten years now, since that day, and you’ve grown up alongside the two of them. You’re an only child with distant parents, and Alexi and Melina have taken you under your wing — so much in fact that Yelena’s room is referred to affectionately as the twins’ room, and you have your own bed in there. More of your stuff is at their house rather than your own these days.

But Natasha has always been just out of reach. Since the day you first met her there’s been this pit in your stomach whenever she’s been around, strange and foreign and somewhat scary to you, that has you reduced to a silent mess with trembling fingers whenever she’s around. It’s a feeling you’ve not always understood, but in more recent years you’ve come to accept you’re in love with her; something you will take to the grave.

You don’t stand a chance with her, of course. You’re her little sister’s best friend, a whole year younger than her, and where she’s popular in school you tend to stick to the shadows. You’re not really picked on, per se — no one dares to when Yelena Belova, who’s terrifying in her own right as well as the little sister of Natasha Romanoff, is constantly glued to your side — but you just don’t have the same social standing that Natasha does. Even if by some miracle you did, she’s your best friend’s sister. You know she’ll never see you that way.

So you’ve decided to yourself you’re going to keep these feelings under lock and key, and pray they’ll go away.

And it’s been going pretty good!… well, that is, until tonight.

Alexi and Melina have flown back to Russia for the New Year, leaving the household in the hands of you, Yelena and Natasha. You and Yelena were perfectly content with spending your days of freedom ordering takeout, bingeing awful reality TV shows and annoying the cat for hours on end, but Natasha was having none of that. The Starks can’t hold their New Year thrasher at their house like normal this year (something about a sick aunt on bedrest? You weren’t really listening, to be honest), so with her parents out of town, Natasha’s offered up her house.

“I don’t want a bunch of gross sweaty drunk people in our house,” Yelena had protested when it was proposed to her, nose wrinkling. “это отвратительно. No.”

“Aw come on, please,” Natasha groaned. “It’s just one night.”

“But it’s not just one night, because we will be cleaning up for days after,” retorted Yelena. “Last time there was vomit everywhere. That was a zero out of ten experience.”

Natasha snorted. “What are you, TripAdvisor?” Dodging Yelena’s half-hearted smack, she’d added, “See, why can’t you be like Y/N? They don’t mind. Right, Y/N?”

Sure, she’d probably played you, but with those eyes who could say no to her?

Well, evidently not you. And because of it, you and Yelena are stuck spending New Year’s Eve locked in her (your) bedroom, her TV on at max volume to even be vaguely heard over the music that shakes the bed with every beat.

“О мой Бог, it’s not even midnight,” Yelena whines, checking her clock for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. “We are going to be dealing with this for hours. Natalia owes us one.”

“She’ll feel guilty tomorrow and take us to a drive-thru,” you tell her, and she sticks her tongue out at you instead of admitting that you’re right.

She opens her mouth to say something else (something witty and uncalled for, you’re sure), but she’s cut off by an abysmally loud crash and scream from downstairs, followed by even louder cheering. The look that crosses her face next just makes you very glad you’re not on the receiving end of her anger tonight.

“Liho,” you remember suddenly, “where is he? Did we pick him up before the party started?”

She pauses. “Oh, shit.”

“He’s still down there?” you panic. “Fuck, Lena, you know how much he hates noise. I’m gonna go get him.”

“No, let me,” Yelena protests, but you wave her off.

“No, because you’ll come back with a kill list twice as long as it is now,” you retort and she scrunches up her face at you, because as always with her you’ve hit the nail on the head. You blow her a kiss before closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you’re hit by the overwhelming stench of sweat and alcohol. Okay, ew. You’d practically begged Natasha to dilute the jet fuel that the Russians call vodka before distributing it, but evidently she’s not taken your pleas into account tonight. (You’re all going to pay for it tomorrow morning come clean-up time.)

At least the universe isn’t totally against you right now, though — the household’s cat, Liho, has one place he will flee to without fail whenever he’s scared; the tiny gap between the washing machine and the wall, in the laundry room. With any luck, you can sneak in and out of there through Melina’s office without encountering too many partygoers.

Getting down the stairs proves a task in itself; they are absolutely soaking for some reason, something must have been spilled on them, so thank god they’re hardwood and not carpeted. It’s like a slip and slide on your way down, and you cling onto the banister for dear life, your task only made more difficult by the tens of other people who have no regard whatsoever for your Mission Impossible-level task currently at hand.

Miraculously, you somehow make it to the bottom of the stairs unscathed, and immediately wince as you straighten back up. The noise down here is even louder, the smell even stronger, and you want nothing more than to flee back upstairs and cower under the bedsheets with Yelena until everyone finally fucks off home. But you remind yourself that if this is the way you feel, tiny flighty Liho probably feels even worse, and as his self-appointed cat mother (which you have been ever since you and Yelena rescued him from the roadside and brought him home), it’s your duty to rescue him.

So you battle your way on through to the laundry room, which thank the lord is empty. You close the heavy wooden door behind you with relief, and lean back against it for a moment, panting to recollect yourself. Jesus fuck, do you hate parties. You’re not even trying to be difficult, it’s just something you’ll never understand — they’re so overstimulating, so overwhelming. You always leave them with such a depleted social battery that you won’t be seen again for the next week. How someone can enjoy these things, you’ll never fathom.

You’re distracted from your inner monologue by the sound of gentle scrabbling, coming from behind the washing machine. An involuntary smile spreads over your face as you instantly clock what that noise is, and you approach slowly, dropping to a crouch.

“Hey buddy,” you say softly to the black fur vaguely visible among the shadows. Its gentle movements freeze, and the scrabbling noise stops. “This sucks, doesn’t it? All alone down here.”

He blinks at you.

”Yeah, it does, huh?” you continue. “What do you say we get outta here? You can come upstairs with me and Lena. How’d you feel about that, bud, huh? It’ll be much nicer, I promise. It’s so lonely down here, isn’t it?”

Convinced, the kitten wriggles out of his hiding spot and trots into your waiting arms. You scoop him up, planting kisses on his head and giggling.

“Good boy. Sweet boy. We got snacks in our room. You just love Twizzlers, don’t you?”

“He does love Twizzlers,” says a raspy voice from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of both you and Liho. He yelps in alarm, and alarm at your alarm, digging his claws into your shoulder in a way that makes you hiss out loud. You spin around to see none other than Natasha behind you (she must have been in here before you closed the door, you vaguely piece together in your state of gay panic), red beer pong cup in hand, looking fucking beautiful.

You’ve avoided her as much as you can today while she’s gotten ready for tonight, reasoning with yourself that you’re only torturing yourself if you keep admiring her from afar, but holy fuck you can’t believe you were depriving yourself of this. A pale pink, almost nude dress, with silver blossoms settled comfortably on her hips in the way that your hands itch to be, and eyeliner that could fucking cut someone. But she’s smiling at you so softly that even the knife-sharp eyeliner smiles with her, and even though she just gave you the fright of your life you’re almost shaking with the restraint it takes to not go absolutely feral. She looks so good.

Oh lord, you are hopeless.

“You and him are just as bad as each other,” she comments, still smiling, so you know she doesn’t really mean it. Desperately scrabbling to cover for your internal screaming, you fake a pout, dropping a kiss on Liho’s head (he rubs his forehead gratefully against your cheek in return).

“That’s so mean,” you grumble.

“You look really pretty tonight,” she tells you, and your heart actually stops at the compliment. It feels like a trick for a moment, that she’d say something like that, but she’s still smiling a smile that makes your insides go all woozy.

“I really don’t think,” you begin, looking down at your outfit, but then pause. What with the top secret CIA-level mission that retrieving Liho has become, you’ve almost forgotten that before all of this you and Yelena had been playing dress up — strictly within the confines of your bedroom, of course, but you’re wearing one of Mama Melina’s old college dresses and it doesn’t look half bad on you, even though it now probably has Liho hairs all over it. You vaguely recall Yelena begging you to let her do your makeup (“pleeeease, Y/N, I swear I’ll be serious this time no more penises I promise”) too, so maybe it’s not such a reach that Nat actually thinks you look pretty tonight. “Oh. Thank you. S- so do you, I —” You forcibly stop yourself there, for fear of real embarrassment.

Her lips twitch in amusement at your antics. “Thanks.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence, and you figure you’d best take your leave before you inevitably embarrass yourself in front of the love of your life. You step toward the door which she’s still stood in front of, mumbling something unintelligible, but Natasha remains firm and simply raises an eyebrow at you as she sips from her solo cup. Literally everything she does is so insanely attractive that you have to bury your face in Liho’s fur for a moment and inhale in order to ground yourself properly. How can one person be so lovely? It’s just not fair.

“I should go back upstairs, Liho doesn’t like the noise,” you tell Natasha.

“You know, it’s nearly midnight,” is all she replies. “They’re about to start the countdown.”

You nod, tight-lipped. Even when it’s muffled through the thick wood of the laundry room the noise is starting to get to you now, and Liho won’t sit still in your arms either, and you want to get back upstairs to the warm safety of your bed and Yelena’s company and the shit Kardashians show you were watching, away from the girl who it’s as torturous as it is wonderful to be around.

“It’s a romantic thing for a lot of people,” she continues, and you have to look away at that. It’s almost as though she, or the universe is dangling the fact that she’ll never be interested in you in front of your face tantalisingly — like a carrot on a stick. “To kiss the one you love when the clock hits midnight, and the New Year rolls in. You got anyone to kiss this year?”

Okay, wow. Ouch.

“Liho,” you reply with as much humour as you can muster. “He is my one true love. Aren’t you, bud,” you add a few octaves higher, and he perks up, recognising that voice that’s for him. When you look back up at Natasha she’s studying you with amusement in her eyes, as though she knows something you don’t. You can hear the chanting beginning outside of the laundry room now, preparing to ring in the New Year; twenty… nineteen…

Still, though, Natasha makes no move to let you leave.

“Do you have anyone to kiss at midnight?” you ask her pointedly. “Cause you should probably get back to them.”

She downs the rest of the contents of her solo cup in one before slamming it down on the counter beside her. “Don’t need to,” comes her gruff reply, “they’re right here.”

Your jaw actually fucking drops at that statement, and your brain shortcircuits. What? Even though your heart skips a hopeful beat, you shake your head quickly to clear it of the idea that she could reciprocate these crushing feelings you harbour for her. Instead, you hold Liho out to her, hands under his armpits so that his hind legs dangle below him and he stretches to look comically long — as though you’re giving him to her like a present (which he sends you a very unimpressed for). “O— oh,” you stutter, “well if he’s your midnight kiss, is that why you were in here? I don’t want to —” twelve, eleven…

She actually laughs out loud at that, and bats Liho away. “Not him, дурачок. You.”

Her hands are cupping at the side of your face, and despite the absolute bizarre circumstances you find yourself leaning into her touch, desperate to memorise the feel of her warm calloused fingertips against your skin — seven, six; she looks down at you, the blue-green outlining her wide dark pupils framing a silent question. You’re in absolute slack-jawed disbelief, this has got to be a prank, it’s got to be — four, three — but she holds your gaze with a kind of certainty that surely can’t be summoned to fool someone. You nod a trembling, single nod, and her lips press against yours just as the clock strikes midnight.

Her lips are so soft, so gentle against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut; you can’t help it. She feels like heaven. She’s tentative at first, but when she can feel you reciprocating, her hands begin to explore a little; one moving to tangle itself in your hair, the other to your back and pulling you in closer to her. One of your arms is busy still cradling Liho close to your chest, but the other is free to trace along Natasha’s skin wonderingly as she continues her ministrations. Her leg slides between yours, forcing you backwards against the wall, where her kisses trail down your jaw for a moment before creeping back up toward your lips and returning to kissing them instead. When she nips gently at your bottom lip, you let out a noise you’ve never heard yourself make before, a kind of high-pitched whine in the back of your throat that makes Natasha laugh quietly as she pulls away for air. Liho, who was nestled comfortably between the two of you throughout the exchange, is purring merrily (“talk, Valentina!” as your friend Darcy would say).

She looks down at you for a moment, eyes wide and dilated, hair a little less perfect than before, panting slightly. She’s always had a few inches on you, ever since you were kids, and that’s something she often teases you for but right now the way she’s towering over you is so fucking hot. None of this can be real, you think to yourself hazily as she leans back in to plant one more kiss, much more chaste this time, against your lips.

“Happy New Year,” she says lowly to you; her voice is a little more broken and raspy than it was pre-makeout and it actually sends a shiver down your spine. And then she’s waltzing out of the room, leaving you absolutely shaking against the wall she was just pressing you against; your legs give up on you as you slide down against it to the ground, trying to catch your breath and understand what just happened.

Because what? 

You wake up the next morning to a house that’s thankfully empty, aside from its usual residents. You’re absolutely terrified that last night was some kind of dream, or it was a drunk mistake. You’ve never felt so vulnerable in your life. You’re right in the palm of Natasha’s hand and she has all the power in the world to absolutely break you right now. She could shatter you into a thousand irreparable pieces and leave you in the dirt if she so wanted to, and that thought is one that had you tossing and turning last night.

Yelena can’t for the life of her fathom why you’re so jittery this morning. You’ve told her fuck all, of course. What were you meant to say? Hey, sorry, last night your sister who I’m kind of a little bit in love with cornered me and we made out? No fucking way. When you came back to the bedroom last night all shaken up and wordless, she just assumed that the party atmosphere had been that overwhelming. You were very grateful for her gentleness with you as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on, and what you were meant to do now. You tried to Google it, but it would appear that not many other people can relate to the situation that you’ve found yourself in (the best thing you could find were some decade-old Quora threads about being in love with your straight best friend, and the idea of Yelena being straight was so funny to you that you had to close the tab before your laughing woke her up), and you ended up being so worried about Yelena somehow seeing your search history that you cleared the whole thing, which definitely is not suspicious. 

“Hey,” Yelena slaps the back of your head playfully as she passes you, knocking you out of your trance, “it is a new day. Party is over, the house is ours, leave the miserableness behind in yesterday, да?”

You nod as you follow her down the stairs.

Natasha, to your surprise, is already awake, and seemingly not even hungover as she bustles around the kitchen, preparing something.

Yelena seems to read your thoughts, as she often does, and nods in agreement. “What, you are not curled up in bed with four million painkillers?” she asks incredulously as she slides onto a stool at the kitchen island.

Natasha shakes her head good-naturedly at her sister’s greeting, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling like an idiot as she continues to cook. “No. I feel good this morning, actually. Really good.” The smile bleeds through her words and takes over her face again.

You and Yelena exchange a look. What is… happening?

“You are being weird,” Yelena tells her, and smacks her over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper as her older sister walks past her to grab the butter. “What have I missed, did you get laid last night or something?”

Your blood runs cold at that, and you have to look away from Yelena so she doesn’t see the way your face drops. Is that true? Did she kiss you and then sleep with someone else? No, she wouldn’t do that to you, surely.

Your thoughts (hopes) are confirmed when she snorts to herself and shakes her head, her back still to the both of you as she pours batter into a pan. “No. No, I just — I had a really good time last night. That’s all. Thanks for letting me have the party.”

You watch as Yelena’s eyebrows furrow, her eyes tracking every one of Natasha’s movements intently, and she tries to figure out what’s going on. You’re similarly perplexed. Natasha is the silent, stony older sibling, the watcher, the one who hears everything and knows everything but doesn’t often speak of her own accord. Last night in the laundry room was the longest exchange you’ve had with her in weeks (and that was before she kissed you). As a kid you would mistake this for shyness, but it eventually became clear that Natasha Romanoff is not shy. She’s very far from it, in fact. She’s just observant, and doesn’t feel the need to speak unless she has something to say. You have zero clue what she’s feeling or thinking half the time — her poker face is so good it’s unsettling. So this is a weird occurrence. You don’t think you’ve seen her as happy as this since… well, since the day she was brought home.

“Well, it is not as though we had much choice in the matter,” Yelena retorts humorously. “Don’t forget we are not cleaning up. That’s on you, сестра.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha grumbles playfully, placing a plate in front of each of you before sliding a pancake onto each of them, right out of the pan. “I owe you one.”

Yelena looks from the pancake to her sister, and back again. “What is this?”

“A chocolate chip pancake.”

“They’re heart-shaped,” you observe quietly.

“Well done for having eyes. If you don’t want them —”

“Nope, it’s good, thank you,” says Yelena thickly, and it’s already gone. You let out a noise of amusement as you eat in a more dignified manner, humming your approval. You don’t think Nat’s ever made you breakfast. It’s nice, though.

Yelena swallows, and leaps to her feet. “I think it’s a Kardashians marathon on TV today,” she informs you, pointedly ignoring the noise Natasha makes whenever that show is mentioned, and she dashes off into the living room. You are alone with Natasha, for the first time since last night.

The nerves from earlier are back, swelling up inside of you uncomfortably, and you do your best to casually avert your gaze from her as you continue to eat. You have no idea whether to bring up last night or to pretend it never happened. Just thinking of the latter makes your heart ache, but it’s becoming a more real possibility by the minute.

Seemingly indifferent to your internal struggling, Natasha slides a pancake onto her own plate and ruffles your hair as she passes you on her way to the fridge. You flinch at the touch, and she giggles.

“You okay?” she asks you teasingly as she pulls a container of raspberries out of the fridge.

You swallow, and nod, trying your best to not embarrass yourself this morning. “Y — yeah. Uh, can I have some?” You gesture at the tub of raspberries.

She pretends to think for a moment, taking slow steps back towards you, until she’s right in front of you — towering over you even more so than she usually does, since you’re still sat down. You look up at her, filled with something not dissimilar to awe. Even in the mornings, when she’s fresh out of bed and still half-asleep, she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. She places her spare hand on your thigh, with the other still holding the berries, and you think to yourself with absolute certainty that you could die happily in this moment.

“Mmm,” she says thoughtfully. “Beg me.”

Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, your jaw drops. You look up at her, pleadingly, not even sure what you’re pleading for. Pleading her to go easy on you? Pleading her to stop? To keep going? But she’s unrelenting.

“Please,” you say eventually, quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please can I have some.”

Almost too quickly for you to process, her lips are pressing against yours. You gasp against her, every single emotion from last night swelling back up, with the added concern that Yelena is in the next room over. But she pulls away after a moment, winking at you as she retreats to her own seat, and as you raise a hand to your lips you realise that in kissing you, she’s left a berry between your lips. She laughs gently when she sees you openly staring at her, and the sound sets your whole body alight, the feeling only amplified by the fact that you’re the cause of her laughter.

Well, you wanted an answer and there’s not many ways to interpret that one.

And so begins your scandalous affair with your best friend’s sister.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au

[nataliasquote]

My Songbird | coming soon

It’s the 70s. Final summer of high school. Why not spend it getting high, partying and sneaking off with your girlfriend in a town that is so disapproving of anything deviating from the norm.

“I feel that when I’m with you. It’s alright, I know it’s right”

#my songbird au #natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #70s au #marvel high school au #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #black widow

[i-am-the-hero-alfred-jones]

After SIX FUCKING MONTHS

I finally got a new chapter up.

There's a lot more explanation of why it took so long in the notes of the chapter, but I hope you enjoy!

btw, this fic is NOT abandoned, life's just sort of been kicking my ass for the past 6 months. . .

#marvel #marvel heroes #marvel high school au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sambucky #samstevebucky #stucky #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #stephen strange #tony stark #edwin jarvis #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #thorbruce #brutasha #clint barton #nathaniel barton #laura barton #babies!

[fandomnerd9602]

Comfort Food

Avengers High series (High School AU)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Before you ever started dating the most popular and beautiful girl at Avengers High, your heart was chasing a girl in your science class: Shuri.

Wanda Maximoff was the most popular girl at Avengers High and she saw you as her closest and best friend. You enjoyed her company and watching Harry Potter movies with her. You did love her and wished that there could be something more there but she was popular and you were a STEM nerd.

So you redirected your focus to a fellow STEM student and good friend Shuri. She was funny and sweet. You could see going on a date or two with her. Her laugh and smile always brightened your day, not as much as Wanda.

It all came to a head one day when you approached Shuri with a little metal sculpture of a Wakandan herb flower. You knew Shuri loved them and worked all night to make it for her.

Any way you approached Shuri and she was absolutely floored by your little sculpture.

“It’s looks so spot on!” She giggled.

“I-I made it for you” you managed to say thru your blushing. “Shuri, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to- to go out with me sometime.”

Instantly her smile dropped. Not exactly the reaction you were hoping for. Her eyes filled with…pity.

“I-I’m sorry (Y/N)” Shuri tried to apologize, “you’re a good friend and all but…I-I do not view you in such a way. I’m sorry”

Your heart shattered. You manages to maintain your composure but inside your heart was breaking in ways you never thought possible.

“That’s fine,” you manage to say, “it’s good. I’m sorry.”

You managed to make it to the door and bolted out. You were lucky the school bell ring, signaling the end of another day but also a salvation of an excuse to leave.

You ran all the way across campus and nearly ran into Wanda and her clique of friends.

“Why the rush, Hufflepuff?” She manage to ask with a giggle. You didn’t answer, tears were already streaming down your face.

“(Y/N)?!” Wanda looked at you concerned. “What’s wrong? Who hurt you?!”

You ran all the way home and collapsed into your bed. You laid there in your bed for the next few hours. But time just felt irrelevant.

A few tears streamed but mostly your felt like you could only kick yourself. How much of a fool you felt. Of course she couldn’t like you in such a way. Your inner monologue filled your head with words of doubt and hurt, feelings of never being able to be loved. Who could ever love you?

And then came a knock. It wasn’t at your door. You tried to ignore it. Then came another. You turned to see Wanda at your window, a small pizza box in her arms.

“Hey Hufflepuff” she smiles, “want some pizza? I mugged a fellow Slytherin for it but-“

You rolled your eyes at her terrible joke. For being such a popular girl, Wanda still had the worst jokes you could imagine.

You opened your window and your best friend slipped right in, comfort food in hand. Wanda flipped on one of the Harry Potter movies and handed you a slice of pizza. Didn’t take long for you and her to scarf down that delicious meal fit for witches and wizards in no time.

“So…are you ready to talk?” Wanda asked you, a little concerned.

“I tried to ask out Shuri-“ you began to say.

“Ooh look at you” Wanda shocked you playfully.

“She turned me down.” You whispered. “Only saw me as a friend”

“Oh…” Wanda’s thumb moved gently across your knuckles. “Her loss”

“Her loss?” You asked.

“Yeah. You’re amazing. And sweet. And kind. Any girl would be lucky to have you in her life.” Your best friend tried to make you feel better. “I’m lucky to have you in my life”

“I’m lucky to have you too, Slytherin” you gave her a side hug.

“Cmon,” she settled onto your bed, “Quidditch is starting and I don’t want to miss it!”

You settled in, next to her. Over the hours, Wanda’s position shifted. From next to you to in your arms. Not that you or her noticed. You both had dozed off after movie three.

Pietro tried to come by to pick his sister up but he only smiled and left you be. He reassured your parents and his own that there was no funny business there. Just two Potterheads who fell asleep.

You and Wanda look back on that night in the coming years. Didn’t take long really for you and her to become a couple. By the time you and Wanda got to college, you completely forgot about Shuri. Your heart had already found its place: with the young witch named Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. And it all it took was a broken heart and a little bit of comfort food.

Tags: @natashaswife4125 @jacelion @lifespectator @aloneodi @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @russianredassassin @mostlymarvelsstuff @ma1egamer

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #avengers high #high school au #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #friends to lovers

[oscorp-lawsuit]

I think it’s really funny seeing those Twitter AU’s where the author portrays Tony as just like so suave and casual online even when he’s interacting with Gen Z kids even tho it should really be the opposite.

His TRUE final form is Trophy Husband Who No Longer Understands The Internet But Insists He Is Still Cool And Hip

So an accurate Twitter au would be Tony embodying “How do you do, fellow kids?” and throwing a tantrum when someone calls him old.

“I’m a tech genius, Peter! That makes me cool and hip. Tell Pepper I’m cool and hip. Peter, stop laughing.”

And Peter has just resigned himself to patting Tony on the back like “Yes, Mr. Stark. You are very cool and hip. Please never say cash money again.”

#Peter has a father figure but at what cost? #cringe that’s the cost #one note and I’ll make my own au just to prove my point #Tony got creaky old man bones #in this au peter’s like about to graduate high school and Tony’s alive because I said so #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #irondad #iron dad #spiderson #spider son #tony stark #peter parker #iron man #spiderman #spider man #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #tony stark incorrect quotes #incorrect tony stark #incorrect peter parker #pepper potts

[babybatscreationsv2]

The Kissing Booth

Marvel | Peter/Tony/Steve/Bucky

Peter decides to host a kissing booth to raise money for Decathlon, but he definitely wasn't expecting to be so popular.

Rating: Teen

Peter stuffed his hands in his pockets, he cocked his hip to one side, and he prayed that he looked as cool as the actor he'd seen on the cover of GQ. Most people passed by the booth while visibly refusing to look his way. Others walked by and giggled at the idea of paying to kiss a random teenager. A woman even stopped to ask if he were old enough to be doing a thing like that and seemed only more appalled when he confirmed that he was eighteen.

The only kiss his kissing booth had gotten him so far was one from a cheerleader with bouncy blonde hair. He was pretty confident she'd only done it to tease him, but her lips were soft and covered in strawberry lip gloss so he wasn't complaining. Plus that was two dollars in the decathlon team’s nationals fund and they were getting a little desperate. Peter just hoped that Flash's cookie stand farther back into the fairground was doing better. He'd never been good at baking so he'd opted out. Now MJ stood behind him, playing the scowling chaperone to discourage unwanted tonguing. The school wouldn't approve the booth unless he agreed to keep the kissing innocent. "As if you're kissing your own mother," the principal said and then blanched when he realized that Peter didn't have one.

"How long do we stand here before we decide we've humiliated ourselves?" MJ asked.

"I'm not sure how this is a 'we' situation," Peter said. His eyes scanned over the crowd. Maybe he could get a pitty kiss if he could make eye contact with the right person.

MJ scoffed. "Because I believed in your stupid kissing booth idea. Not that you're not pretty, we're just living in the wrong decade."

"Nah, I think everyone's just shy. Maybe you should come show them how it's done to break the ice."

"Pass." MJ went back to her chair and sat down. Peter laughed quietly. If they could just make a few more bucks, he'd call it a success. He hadn't been expecting to fund the whole trip this way, but he at least thought he could lure in a few pranksters looking to peer pressure their friends into it.

He stared out at the crowd and caught sight of Tony Stark entering the fair along with his gang. They were already laughing and goofing off. Perfect targets. Peter licked his lips shiny and leaned against the side of the booth. He sent what he hoped was a flirty look in their direction. If he couldn't score a kiss from the biggest man whore in school, then he was a failure for sure.

His heart skipped a beat when Tony's eyes met his. The other boy grinned as he took in the booth. He elbowed his friends and the whole group came walking over.

"What do we have here?" Steve Rogers asked. Peter blushed as he looked between him and Tony. Then he spotted Bucky in the back. Three of the hottest guys ever were standing in front of him and sure they were probably about to make fun of him before running off to play, but the idea that they were standing at his kissing booth made his palms sweat.

"Kissing booth," Peter declared, trying to find his confidence when internally he was shaking. "I'm raising money for our nationals trip."

"You guys made it to nationals?" Steve whistled, impressed.

"Is it that surprising with Peter on the team?" Tony added.

Peter blushed. He couldn't tell if they were making fun of him or not, but they sounded so genuine. He cleared his throat. "Two bucks for a kiss if you guys are interested in showing your support."

Tony and Steve looked at each other and they looked at their friends. They all smiled and shrugged their shoulders. Peter wished he knew what secret they were all in on as Steve pulled out his wallet and took out a five dollar bill.

"Two seems a little low don't you think?" He grinned. Peter rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs. Were they really doing this?

MJ jumped up to take her spot beside him. He grabbed the cash and dropped it into the collection box. "Chaste kisses only, people! No tongues!" she declared.

Peter leaned over the booth, eyes on Steve's handsome smile. He half expected the boy to smash a pie in his face, but instead he got gentle lips pressed against his own for 3- 4- 5 lingering seconds. When he pulled away, Peter's breath went with him. He blinked away the shock as Steve moved out of the way for the next boy in line.

Bucky Barnes slammed his cash down on the table top. "Keep the change, Jones," he announced as he pushed a ten dollar bill her way. He grabbed Peter by the collar, but he didn't break the rules when he pressed their lips together.

Peter wasn't sure what insane reality he'd fallen into where half the football team was willingly kissing him, and paying for it at that, but he never wanted to leave.

Bucky was followed by Rhodey, Sam, and Bruce who all over paid in fives and tens. Then finally there was Tony. Peter couldn't even pretend he hadn't been waiting for him. By the look on the boy's face he knew it, too.

"Got one left for me?" he asked. He was so suave as he leaned on his hands against the table.

Peter nodded, feeling breathless. He swallowed. "Always for you, Tony." Peter blushed as the words escaped, but Tony's laugh was fond.

Peter leaned across the booth to meet him. It was only a soft little kiss, but it made his whole body shiver down to his toes. Seconds passed, he held back in the impulse to moan, to part his lips, to ask for more. MJ cleared her throat and finally they separated.

When Tony stepped back, Peter realized that they had gathered quite the crowd. A long line was forming as everyone wanted to imitate the school's coolest seniors and get a kiss from Peter. Tony looked over his shoulder and smirked.

"Opps," he said with a laugh. "I'm not sure your mouth will survive that line."

Peter laughed with him. "At least we'll get to take our trip."

"How about this," Tony leaned over the booth to speak quietly. Peter's heart skipped at the intimacy of it. "How much for you to close the booth and come on a date with me instead?"

"I uh-" Peter felt his head spin for a second. His palms pressed against the table stop for stability. "Well, I don't know how much Flash made at his booth so I don't know exactly-"

"No problem. Have Mr. Harrington call my dad. He'll send a check."

"Are you sure?"

Tony offered Peter his arm. "Come on. I'll buy you a funnel cake."

Heart fluttering, Peter walked around the booth and took Tony's arm.

"Hey!" Steve cut in. "That's cheating, Tony."

"What?" the boy smirked. "It's not like I'm kidnapping him."

Bucky scowled behind Steve. "Not all of us can afford to buy the booth out, dickhead."

Tony shrugged. "Some of us are born winners, Barnes."

Peter gasped as Steve shoved him and he fell back against the booth. He backed out of the way as he processed what he was seeing. Tony and Steve, absolute best of friends since the sixth grade, were fighting over him. Meanwhile Bucky stood smirking while he held back Rhodey and the other boys looked unsure of who's side to be on.

"Stop it!" Peter screamed. He jumped into the fight, barely avoiding catching Steve's elbow in his ribs as he pushed his way into the middle. Bucky grabbed Steve and pulled him away before Peter could get hurt leaving Tony grinning as he leaned against the booth.

"Let's just all go," Peter suggested before Tony could say anything else to start more fighting.

"I think that's a great idea, Pete," Bucky agreed. He threw his arm around Peter's shoulders and steered him away from the booth. "Unless you jackasses are still measuring up?"

Steve huffed, but his eye roll was friend when Tony bumped his shoulder on the way past. He offered Peter his arm again and he took it with Bucky's arm still on his shoulder.

They walked through the fair in a row of four with the other boys following behind. Peter was anxious after the fight, but he noticed Steve slip his hand into Bucky's back pocket as they walked along and an idea came into his head. Maybe they could all do more than enjoy the fair. But maybe all of this kissing was making him over confident.

They stopped at the basketball hoops and Tony paid the carny. Peter laughed as his own ball hit the edge of the hoop and went flying into the net. They each got two tries and by the end of it, it was Bucky who handed Peter a chubby blue teddy bear that was half his size while Tony and Steve walked away with pocket sized plushies.

"Just for you, gorgeous." Bucky was smug as he handed the toy over. Peter grinned as he squeezed it in his arms. He was undeniably delighted even if he did feel a little bad watching Steve stuff his toy into his pocket while Tony handed his to a passing toddler.

"Don't worry about them," Bucky slung his arm over Peter's shoulder. The other two walked a few paces ahead as they shook off their embarrassment. "They have to learn to quit their bullshit sooner or later."

"I can't believe they're fighting over me."

"They'll get over it. They always do."

Peter looked at him. "Or are you just trying to steal me away for yourself?"

Bucky stopped them in the middle of the walkway. He put his hand gently under Peter's chin, staring deep into his eyes. Peter swallowed.

"Do you want me to?"

"I..." He blinked fog in his brain. "I was kinda hoping... well I was thinking..." He chewed his lip. Bucky waited for him to continue. "Well, you and Steve seem to be... and you know what people say about Tony... I thought..."

Bucky grinned. "It's okay, kitten. Tell me what's on your mind."

"What if I didn't have to choose? Maybe we could all just..." Peter blushed. "I just think we could all have a lot more fun if no one was fighting."

"I think you're as smart as you are pretty." Bucky leaned a little closer. He kissed him again, almost as innocently as he had before. Almost.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" Tony startled them both out of their little moment. Him and Steve stood in front of them now, but Peter couldn't tell exactly what they were thinking. They didn't look angry... Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

"Hey Stevie, that's our ride," Bucky said. He gestured down the path at the flying saucer ride before giving Peter a look.

"Oh, I don't like that one," he said. "You two should go. Me and Tony will wait by the duck pond."

"Perfect!" Bucky unwrapped himself from Peter and slung his arm over Steve's shoulders instead. Peter heard Steve protest, but he stopped quickly at something Bucky whispered to him.

Tony looked pleased as the two of them disappeared. "Just us then." He offered Peter his hand and they started to walk once again down the trodden dirt road.

Peter rolled the idea around in his head unsure of how to bring it up. Eventually he decided the best thing to do was to figure out how all of this even got started. "So what was all of that back at the booth?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You got all of your friends to kiss me so you could take me on a date? And then that fight with Steve?"

Tony laughed. "Yeah alright... Me and Steve weren't sure which of us you're always staring at. We're always together, ya know? I made him go first so I didn't make a fool of myself, but then I saw how you looked at me even after all of that." He stopped abruptly. "I'm not crazy, right? You wanted to come with me."

"Yeah, of course. I'm so happy that you asked me. But I'm really happy that we're all here together."

Tony sighed. "I really like you, Peter."

"I like you too. And Steve and Bucky. And I mean... you guys are best friends. You share everything anyway..."

Tony looked at him for a moment. Then he smiled. "That's not the worst idea I've ever heard..."

"I'm pretty smart, remember? I do decathlon." He gave him a playful smile.

Tony pulled him in closer. "And they would be nothing without you."

They waited by the exit of the flying saucer ride. Tony's hand had slipped into his back pocket and Peter definitely wasn't complaining. When he spotted Steve and Bucky coming out, Steve's cheeks looked a little pink and the color only deepened as they reached the exit.

"You guys talked?" Bucky asked.

Peter grinned. "We sure did. How uh... your talk go?"

"Are you sure about this, Peter? You don't have to be afraid to play favorites. It's okay to just choose one of us," Steve said.

Peter stepped away from Tony to give Steve a soft kiss. "I want this. I don't want to choose and it looks like I don't have to."

Steve's face slowly shifted from a bewildered daze to an excited smile. "If you're sure."

"Definitely sure." Peter handed his teddy bear to Bucky. Then he hooked his arm through Steve's and pulled him along to hook his other arm in Tony's. He looked at Bucky who took his place with an arm around Steve and the bear under the other. "I think the Ferris wheel has room for four."

#marvel #starker #winterspider #high school au #fluff

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Summer Crush

Summary: The one where Wanda has a summer crush on the club's lifeguard. || Requested

Warnings: (+18), kissing, semi-public make out, smut, oral (r giving), nipple play, bottom!wanda, high school AU but summer vacations, some teasing and dirty talk, mutual pining, cursing, fluff, jokes and drinking. || Words: 4.815k

All Works Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad ||

--//--

Despite Pietro's teasing, Wanda simply couldn't help herself.

You hardly knew of her existence - she thought it was a great victory that you knew her name - and yet, in a sacred sort of way, she came to the club every day since the summer began.

At first, it was something unintentional. Her friends, and her brother especially, insisted that she shouldn't spend the whole summer locked up in her room and dragged her to the Westview Municipal Club. Pietro and Yelena were already well known there - they had spent the last two summers betting on who could get more phone numbers from the countless girls who came to town during the vacations - and they had no problem introducing Wanda to half of the staff who worked there.  That's how she met you.

Charming and unapproachable. You went to public school, unlike Wanda and her friends, and worked at the club as a lifeguard both after school and in the summer. Wanda considered leaving the expensive boarding school she went just so she could have the same classes as you, but the idea seemed absurd after some thought. 

Her last hope was to voluntarily visit the club every day of the week, causing surprise even to her extroverted twin and best friend. Yelena realized that there was something out of the ordinary before the boy did.

"Okay, Wanda, tell me who it is." Asked the blonde with an expression between serious and provocative, when the two of them were comfortable on the beach chairs and Pietro was far enough away in the pool. 

Wanda - who until the moment had been pretending to read a book while stealing glances between the lifeguard's empty chair and the locker room door, waiting for you to arrive - frowned in confusion.

"Excuse me?" 

Yelena laughed, crossing her arms. "I love your company, but after all these years of being your friend, I know you hate it here and would rather be at home with your headphones on than in the hot sun. So tell me, who are you doing this for?"

Wanda looked at her friend, letting out a short laugh.

"If I tell you I've changed over the summer will you believe me?"

"Not a chance."

With a sigh, Wanda closes the book and settles into her chair, crossing her legs and turning her face to Yelena. "Okay. Maybe I have a little crush."

"I knew it." Yelena comments excitedly, mimicking her friend's posture.  "Is it on the surfboard boy? He seems interested."

Wanda makes a disgusted face. "What? No, by god. He's in my calculus class, did you know that? He tried to take a picture under my skirt once."

Yelena immediately widened her eyes and made mention of getting up, ready to start a fight. Wanda rushed over to hold her forearm, assuring her that that was a long time ago and was no longer a problem. 

"I was talking about Y/N." She decides to tell then, and the surprise is enough to get Yelena's full attention.

"Oh my god, the lifeguard?" She exclaimed loud enough for Wanda to feel her face heat up at the curious glances of a passing couple. She mumbled for her friend to lower her voice, and Lena gave an apologetic chuckle before doing so. "I totally get it though, she's so hot. Good thing I never tried to ask her out, that would have been awkward."

Wanda raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "Why have you never tried?"

Yelena puts a hand under her chin as if trying to remember. "I think I tried actually.... yes, the first summer. She told me she had a girlfriend."

"Oh." Wanda muttered disappointedly.

Seeing her friend's expression, Yelena quickly patted her thighs.

"Hey, that was ages ago!" She comments. "I've never seen her wear a ring, and honestly, she doesn't need to check us out as much as she does. I bet she's interested too."

Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully, a thread of hope rising in her chest. It's perfect timing for your shift to begin as well, and she looks away from Yelena when she recognizes your figure coming out of the locker room. 

She can't help the flutter that rises in her stomach or the warmth in her cheeks that spreads to the rest of her body when she lets her gaze wander to the amount of skin exposed by the uniform. When you smile gently after giving instructions to other people, her heart skips two beats in a row.

She is probably staring. Definitely. But she only stops when as soon as you climb into the lifeguard chair, and your gaze scans the pool, you meet her and Wanda feels her face burn, immediately turning away.

Yelena watched the scene in disbelief and amusement.

"That was the gayest thing I've ever seen in my life." Comments the blonde, and Wanda mumbles in shame, burying her face in both hands. Yelena laughs, "Why don't you ask her out?"

"And I'll say what? Hey, I know we don't know each other and I've been showing up at your work for two weeks, but I think you're pretty. Do you want to get laid?"

"Who's going to get laid?" Pietro intervenes in the conversation, having swum in close at that very moment. He rests his arms on the edge of the pool, and his sudden appearance only worsens the red of embarrassment in his sister's cheeks. Yelena lets out another laugh. 

"Did you know that Wanda is crushing the lifeguard?" The blonde questions, ignoring the brunette's slaps of protest at the exposure of the secret. Pietro raises his eyebrow.

"Y/N? That's funny."

Wanda stops attacking Yelena immediately with the sentence and turns around with a frown creased in curiosity and confusion. 

"Why is it funny?" She asks. Pietro shrugs his shoulders.

"She asked me if you were single." He declares with a simplicity that doesn't match the way Wanda's heart speeds up.

"What?" she exclaims, but Pietro shrugs his shoulders again.

"Yeah, a long time ago actually." He comments distractedly, starting to swim in circles. "She went to the state last year, you know? When the folks from her school won the game, I went to congratulate her on the field. She saw you on the cheerleading squad and asked if you had a boyfriend. I told her you were my sister, and she didn't press the matter."

"B-but you told her I was single, right?"

"Like I said, she didn't push it when I said you were my sister..."

"Pietro, I swear to god I'm going to drown you in this pool!" 

The boy made a scared face, but Yelena laughed at the interaction and held Wanda by the waist as she threatened to advance against her brother.

"Easy there, hothead. Look on the bright side." The blonde asks standing next to her friend. "Now you know Y/N is interested."

Wanda swallows dryly, risking looking at the lifeguard chair again. You were monitoring the pool, but it was obvious you were stealing glances at where she was, not least because as soon as she looked, you turned your face away, cheeks reddening. God, her poor little heart would not survive this.

"Now I'm more nervous than before." Wanda confesses in a sigh turning her attention back to her friend. Pietro laughs from the pool, muttering something like "Useless bisexual" before swimming away again. Yelena smiles in assurance.

"Don't worry, cupcake. I have a perfect plan."

Wanda looks at her doubtfully, but the blonde points to something behind them. When she turns around, Wanda catches sight of the bulletin board, and immediately the huge flyer about the fake luau that day caught her attention. "Any chance your father will let you stay late?"

"If I say I'll sleepover at your house, yes." Wanda comments making Yelena laugh.

–//–

After lying - or rather omitting parts of the truth - by calling her father to let him know that she and her twin were going to sleep over at Yelena's, Wanda hung up the phone and put it away in her backpack.

Her friend and Pietro were by the pool, both flirting with people she knew from school, and she realized that a cold drink would be much appreciated. 

Wanda could do this. Pretend she was reading even though the words were bending in her mind and all she could do was look through the edge of the book meters ahead at the one person who hadn't left her mind in weeks. She almost choked on her sweet drink when you caught her staring - a lopsided smile that sent a sharp warmth to her cheeks and further down too - and Wanda sank into her chair, trembling fingers putting the glass away as she hid her face behind the book.

She didn't see you get down from the chair, nor did she see you walk leisurely, waving and giving warning glances to anyone who was ready to break some rule, which is why she almost knocked the book to the floor when you appeared in front of her, the figure covering the sun.

"Hey, Wanda." You greeted casually, hands on your waist as you watched her. Wanda was staring, but if anyone asked it was at the whistle hanging around your neck and not anything else. "Nice to see you here again."

"H-hi." She managed to answer, your gentle smile being solely responsible for the way her voice was cracking. You didn't seem intimidated by her in the slightest, moving to fill the empty space Yelena had left.

"You know you can't bring that here." That was your comment, and Wanda was so absorbed in your presence that she had to blink a few times to realize that it wasn't about the book - now closed that she was staring at as something sacred - that you were talking about, but rather about the drink she brought from the bar to where she was sitting.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." She muttered quickly, and grabbed the glass again, flipping the drink so fast she felt her head freezing. You laughed in surprise, eyes slightly wide as she let out a grunt of pain, returning the glass to the table and placing her hands on her forehead.

"Damn, brain freeze." She complained but you chuckled softly, watching her with amusement.

" Well, you didn't have to turn the drink over all at once, Wanda." You commented. "You could have just taken it back to the bar, and drunk it there with ease."

"Yeah, that makes more sense." She retorts with a chuckle that you accompany. When Wanda raises her eyes again, you are still looking at her, and she feels her face warming up. She clears her throat, and comments, "Sorry about the drink, again. No need to make an exception, I understand if you want to give me a warning or something."

When Wanda gets nervous, the words come out before she can really think about it. It's worse when she likes someone, and unluckily for her, she likes you a lot.

You frown in confusion, a short laugh escaping your lips. "Um, you want a punishment, then?"

You suggest and it's certainly not intentional because as soon as the words come out and you notice the new pink on Wanda's cheeks along with the double meaning, you lick your lips and look away, a short laugh escaping. "That didn't came out right..."

"Hey, Y/N!" It's Pietro again, now stepping out of the pool completely wet. He gets close enough for Wanda to shrug her legs into the chair trying to avoid the water. You smile at him. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, almost a whole day." You mock softly, making him laugh. Wanda smiles too, but can't help the insecurity that arises about that being a complaint regarding their constant presence at the club.

Pietro reaches for one of the towels and begins to dry his hair. "We're staying a little longer by the way. For the Luau."

Your face lights up at that, and Wanda has to bite her tongue to keep from confessing how pretty she thinks you are.

"Really? That's nice." You comment. "The party is really lovely, and my friends are joining us tonight, so you'll finally get to meet them."

Pietro gets excited about this, commenting something about a friend of yours that he has wanted to meet since last summer. Wanda is more interested in your fingers spinning the whistle.

"[...] Anyway, I should get back to work before my supervisor comes to get me." You mutter, your gaze on the older woman on the other side of the club who has a stern warning expression about you sitting with club members instead of watching the pool. Before you go, however, you look Wanda in the eyes. "Hey, if you want, we can have a drink later. I promise it won't freeze your brain, I'll wait for you to finish."

Jesus Christ.

Wanda babbles an 'I'd love to' between one breathless giggle and another, and you smile at her before getting up and walking back to the other side of the pool.

Pietro laughs at the reaction, moving to pick up the empty glass. "Try not to drool so much, sestra." He scoffed, evading the slap with one swift movement, and carrying the item away toward the bar.

Wanda imagined he would stay a while to eat as usual, and it was just what she needed to let her imagination run wild until party time.

The club quickly empties throughout the afternoon from the usual families and members present - of whom Wanda has come to recognize after coming here every day for weeks - until she is the only one in the chairs.

Employees, not like you who went to the locker room, but waiters and cleaners, begin to prepare the luau and she, Yelena and her brother were invited to wait in the club's lobby.

Soon the party crowd is arriving - mostly young teenagers like herself - wearing summer clothes and some brave ones with guitars or ukuleles in hand. Wanda recognizes many people from the school, but many are also from other schools or older.

When the pool area is open again, Wanda is impressed by all the decoration that has been done. Everything is really beautiful - the low lights, the fake sand in some spots, and even the typically Hawaiian effects - and Pietro gets a table in a far corner for them.

"Lena, your girl is here." That's Pietro's warning once they each have a drink in hand, standing in front of the bar. Wanda is unsure about starting to drink - she has a feeling that someone needs to sober up in this trio, and she saw Pietro turn over a martini stealthily earlier - and looks away from the untouched cup to where her brother is looking. Yelena lets out an exclamation and turns the drink all at once.

"Who's that?" Wanda asks confused, and Pietro laughs as Yelena begins to prepare another glass.

"That's the Kate Bishop." Pietro replies, and Wanda lets out a small exclamation.

"Oh, she's back." The brunette comments, receiving a whimper from her friend. Before Yelena turns the glass over, Wanda places a hand on the lid. "Don't you think you'd better deal with this sober?"

Yelena hesitates, but sighs. "God, wish me luck." She asks and Wanda and Pietro exchange giggles before the blonde leaves them, stepping aside to greet the girl who was arriving at the party.

"I bet she'll turn yellow." Pietro comments and Wanda returns her glass to the drinks table, a thoughtful expression as she watches her friend clearly stumble over her own words while talking to the other.

"I think one-shot gave her the courage she needed." Wanda retorts. "Besides, this push and pull has been going on for almost two years, hasn't it? I'm the one almost taking action."

Pietro laughs. "And you can talk a good game about the long wait, can't you, little sister?" the boy mocked but received a slap on the shoulder.

"Don't you joke about that! It's your fault she didn't know I was single!"

“Ouch! Don’t blame me for you being a gay disaster!” He complained, escaping the next few attempts between giggles. 

Wanda returned to the table at the same time that the friends Pietro had texted about the party arrived. Soon she was surrounded - Natasha, Steve, Bucky and Sam - all in summer clothes and equally excited for the party around her. 

She was trying to pretend to be interested in everybody's summer stories when you showed up. You had changed out of your uniform into a plaid shirt and dark jeans shorts, and Wanda licked her lips at the collarbone exposed by the open buttons.

You made your time to come to her however, people she didn't know were greeted by you at the entrance, and you spoke to everyone before guiding the small quartet to her group of friends.

Carol, Monica, Gamora and Peter were the names that Wanda was most likely to forget. They all seemed friendly and nice, but honestly, how long before she got your attention again?

The glass in her mouth was soda, and Wanda bit the edge without realizing it, eyes watching you intently as you chuckled at the story of how Yelena and Kate had met online and were in some sort of friendship with blurred lines. 

Wanda had no way of knowing that every little movement, even something as simple as biting off the end of a glass, was being closely watched by you. Your attention wavered, and you missed a joke that everyone laughed at, gaze finding hers for a microsecond and Wanda knew.

She set her glass on the table, and moved closer, mouth finding your ear. "Come with me." Her fingers trailed down, brushing against yours, and she stepped away, smiling at herself as you followed her without question, or caring about the looks of doubt and insinuation from the rest of the group.

She made her way through the clubhouse that by now she knew like the back of her hand, ignoring your curious whispers all the way to the buffet area.

Her intention was to take you to the other side of the club, to the golf hill, but you grew in your curiosity, and wrapped your arms around her waist between one corner and the next, turning her body and moving forward until Wanda was pinned between you and a wall.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked too close for Wanda to answer with more than a gasp, fists closed at the side of her body as yours were firmly on her waist, skin burning with the touch. "Cat got your tongue, princess?"

Despite her heart racing in her ears, she smiles in defiance, lifting her chin. "No, my tongue is just fine. Here, try it." She barely suggested it and you were breaking distance. But to Wanda's surprise, it wasn't as hungry as she expected it to be. It was gentle and intense, and definitely over too quickly.

You leaned your forehead against hers, breaths out of rhythm and nervous fingers playing with the edge of her shorts. "I'm sorry, I... can this be not just a one-time thing?"

Wanda was so surprised that she didn't answer right away, her chest heating up with happiness. You flinched at her silence, swallowing dryly before pulling away slightly, adding, "I mean, that I like you. Like, real thing. And I have for a while. I didn't say anything because your brother is a friend and he seemed kind of jealous about it, and I wasn't even sure if you liked girls...[...]"

You were babbling. About the summer, about trying to approach her when she started going to the club, about telling your friends. God, Wanda thinks she could cry.

Instead, she brought her hands to your neck and kissed you hard.

The grunt of surprise turned into something else when you kissed her back, tongues wriggling for dominance as your hands tightened their grip and pressed Wanda back against the wall. This time she let a moan escape, your leg finding space between hers.

You kissed her until her balance shifted, legs turning to jelly and hips rocking forward in search of friction that she found against your knee. Wanda only realized how wet she was when you broke the kiss with a low whimper.

"Fuck, Wanda." You almost pleaded against her neck, and she blinked confused and aroused about what it was. Her face warmed considerably when she felt the gentle tug of your fingers entwined in the straps of her shorts. "Can I touch you?"

"Please." She retorted immediately, her eyes closed with the biting brushing of your teeth on her neck. You grunted but pulled your face away, hands moving to her cheeks until she looked up at you.

"Not here. Someone might see us." You warned before pulling away completely. Wanda complained about the lack of warmth, but your hand found hers and you guided your way into the club again.

The locker room was completely empty, and you led her into something that looked like someone's office and locked the door. You gave Wanda just enough time to recognize her surroundings before you were on top of her again, mouth to mouth.

She practically whimpered as your hands worked to get her on top of the table in the center, legs closing around your waist as your tongues danced together.

Tentatively, Wanda let her hands work on the buttons of your plaid shirt, fingers trembling as she tried to keep up with the rhythm of the kiss and felt your hands scratch her thighs. You threw the piece away when she finished, and Wanda gasped at the sight of your bare breasts in front of her.

You raised an eyebrow, cheeks burning under her look of adoration. "See something you like, kitten?"

Instead of answering, Wanda dived in. You let out a gasping sigh as you felt her mouth on your nipples, so eagerly sucking it. 

A hot heat grew at the tip of your belly with each precise, considerate movement of Wanda's tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gripped her hair and held her in place.

Wanda released one nipple with a pop - a stream of saliva connecting your skin and her mouth - and you stared back at her fully dilated pupils and mouth open in a gasp, feeling a sharp tug of arousal at the image in front of you.

You kissed her again, hands more impatient than before pulling her bikini off at once. Wanda moaned deeply as your hands closed around her breasts, her hands trying to work on your zipper but failing with the stimulation of your fingers.

You smiled against her lips, finding her struggle amusing, and Wanda wanted to be angry about it but lost her train of thought when you tucked your thigh between her legs, hands firmly on her hips to rock her against you.

She broke the kiss with a gasping whimper, hands going up to your shoulders for support as she felt her body shudder with the friction. You moaned softly as well, feeling on your skin the wetness that already ran through the fabric of her shorts.

"Fuck, you're killing me, princess." You murmured affected, teasing a trail of kisses strong enough to mark all over Wanda's neck. She, on the other hand, could only whimper back, dripping all over your thigh. You smiled at her state, fingers caressing the bones of her hips as you guided the movements of her hips. The pressure against her clit was delicious and made Wanda's mind spin - it shouldn't have been enough, but she was so hot and bothered she wouldn't be surprised if it came with just that - and feeling your mouth on all the sensitive points of her collarbone was certainly making it harder to hold it.

She tried to increase the speed but you firmed your grip around her waist, laughing breathlessly at the grunt she let out.

"Be patient, baby." You pleaded as you met her face again, making her grunt in impatience once more, the lack of your lips and the slow pace taking her over the edge, and keeping her there.

"Just-fuck me." She choked, legs closing around you, trying to pull you close, increasing the contact somehow. You sighed deeply but didn't obey.

You came closer though, lips brushing against hers as her hips moved.

"I've waited so long for this, Wanda..." You comment in a low, husky, affected voice as you feel her gasping sighs in your mouth. "Ever since that day I saw you dance, that skirt that only made me think of burying my fingers underneath..."

"God." She panted closing her eyes, forehead falling against yours. She was so close if you would only go a little faster-

"And then you started showing up here, walking around in this lingerie you call a bikini. And I had to pretend not to think about fucking you every time you talked to me." 

Wanda whimpered, she couldn't hold it in. Slow or not, having you confess these things were more than enough to take her over the edge. She arched her back, body spasming, and when the grip threatened to explode, you stopped.

She almost cried out in frustration, something like a moan or a whine escaped her lips, but you kissed her so hard that she almost orgasmed just from the feel of your tongue. Her brain was an aroused mess. She tried to grab at you, to pull you against her, but you put one hand against her belly and another on her neck, pushing her down until she lay on the table.

Your hands were working to get her short off in record time, and Wanda was so in a trance from the latest events that she didn't realize what was happening until your mouth found her pussy. 

"FUCK!" She definitely went too loud, but neither of you cared. Your tongue devoured her eagerly, teasing between the folds and spreading her wetness around, nose pressed against her clit. You moaned against her, intoxicated by the taste, and Wanda couldn't control the sounds, one hand groping its way into your hair to keep you from stealing another orgasm from her.

This time you let her reach, smiling all the while taking her there. She whimpered on the table, thighs trying to close and hips instinctively moving away, but you held her open, burying your head and licking her until she spilled into you, a muted scream as she arched her back.

"Baby, too much..." She tried, twitching at the overstimulation. You didn't stop until she was ready to give you another, whimpering and forcing your face against her until breathless moans were all she could formulate on her tongue.

When Wanda had another orgasm in your mouth, you grunted heavily against her, the tightness in your belly exploding and spreading a wave of frenzy throughout your body.

This had never happened before.

You lifted your eyes to her, licking up every last drop of her cum before making your way up and meeting her in a lazy kiss.

You kissed her until she was able to match properly, hands finding your shoulders and hair to dominate it, making you smile.

"How do you feel?" You asked as you broke away, lips so close you could feel them.

"After two orgasms? Pretty incredible." She jokes making you smile. Your fingers come up, teasing her nipples between your fingers and making her sigh.

"What do you say we take this back to my place?" You suggest with gentle caresses, your mouth moving to deposit short kisses across her jaw. "I'm kind of worried about losing my job..."

Wanda laughed affectedly, nodding in understanding. "Lead the way." 

You had just finished helping her tidy up her crumpled clothes and tousled hair when loud knocks came at the door.

"Y/N? I hope you know you are still at your workplace." You sigh with relief as you hear the voice of your colleague and not your supervisor. "I just came to warn you because Ms.Harkness asked to lock the empty rooms..."

You opened the door before the boy could complete it.

"You're a lifesaver, partner." You thank him, hand entwined with Wanda's - who is too embarrassed to meet the gaze of the other who clearly understands what was happening minutes ago - as you leave. 

"I imagine you are Wanda." Comments the boy. "Y/N hasn't shut up about you since the summer started."

Wanda smiles, but you grunt. "Dude."

He laughs, nodding down the hall. "Go on, I'll tell your friends you left. And our boss that I didn't see you too."

"Thanks, Simon."

--//--

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #high school au #marvel imagines #wanda x you #wanda x yn #wanda maximoff

[lav3nder-bees]

Fairy Tail yearbook! part 1/7+

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanart #fairy tail natsu #fairy tail lucy #fairy tail gray #fairy tail wendy #fairy tail erza #ft fanart #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #wendy marvell #erza scarlet #high school au #?? #lmk if yall want more

[mandyyvibes]

lil doodle in honor of @chaos-and-ink “As Stable As Water” art hoe steve!

i haven’t really drawn in yearssss so constructive criticism is awesome but pls don’t be mean

#as stable as water #marvel #pencil sketch #steve rogers #marvel fanart #steve rogers fanart #high school au steve rogers #mandyydraws #< art tag? art tag :o

[thatbitch6sblog]

They got no idea about me and you ~ demon!Wanda x vampire!Reader

Monster High School AU

Summarry: Wanda is the PE teacher at the high school for monsters and reader is the art teacher and the nurse. Both of them are gay. What will happen now?????

Warnings: homophobia, blood, fingering, mommy kink

Words: *1k words*

a/n: I used the filters on tiktok to decide what to write. The results of the filters were: Friends to lovers, Alternative universe high school, you can’t run from the gay thoughts with an injured leg, horns as hand grips. I just wanted to say beforehand that they are teachers at the school and not actual high schoolers.

My requests are open btw! :)))

Enjoy!

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

You’re in another boring meeting with the other school staff. The meetings are always so boring. Except for the one thing that makes all of these better. Wanda Maximoff. She’s the PE teacher of the same school you´re working at. 

You’re not really close with her but you find yourself talking to her whenever you have lunch. She is always so nice to you. Always holds the door for you and helps you whenever you need help with lifting heavy stuff. Of course she looks good doing it, so you don’t mind. 

You have been the school art teacher for a while now and like your job. The pay was unfortunately not enough so you had to apply for the school nurse too. Helping those kids heal is the best part of your day. 

You got the job because with your vampire blood you could heal better than anyone. Your gifts are mostly positive but they can also be a negative point. Because of your better hearing you’ve heard things in the teachers lounge you’d preferred not to hear. 

“Do you think it’s true?” You can’t even see them whisper but know that they are. You bet it's the lunch ladies talking again. Those witches never shut up about your coming the last few years. “Yeah, I saw her making out with another girl at the Monster Festival last weekend” It feels like stakes are going through your heart. You hate the way they talk about you.

Suddenly your gaze drifts towards Wanda. She just sits there and looks beautiful. It’s like she senses that you’re watching and looks over to you. The corners of her mouth turn upwards. Then she mouths “This is so boring. Follow me.” And then she stands up. “I have to do something.” She gives you a look and walks away. 

You have had a crush on her since you started working here. She started a few years before you did. She’s a wonderful person who is so kind. She doesn’t look the part that’s for sure. A demon, buff, PE teacher with a heart of gold. She’s definitely your type though. 

After a minute has passed you tell everyone you’re going to the toilet and walk out of the room searching for Wanda. “I didn’t think you had the guts to walk out of there.” She stands against the doorpost of your classroom with her arms over each other. You walk to her and it looks like she’s checking you out. 

“I heard the way they talk about you. I’m so sorry. They did that to me too when it was my first few years working here. To be honest I don't even care what they say anymore. It has made me hate myself because of the way they talk behind my back but it’s like they’re not there anymore.” Even though she says all that, you can see the hurt on her face. 

You feel your face turn red. “I didn’t know you were-” Her face goes from hurt to a big grin within a second. “Oh honey, you didn’t notice the way I’m checking you out every day.” You hit her softly on her shoulder jokingly. “Stop it, Wanda.” She keeps pushing and flirting with you. “Try me.” Then you decide to run through the school but she follows you. “Don’t think you can run from me, baby.”

You come to a stop when you’re close to the stairs and then walk down them. In the corner of your eye you see Wanda approaching. You can’t run anymore and come to a halt. When all of a sudden she falls off the stairs. “Are you okay? Do you need my help? I am the school nurse after all.” 

You two walk together to your nurse office. When you get into the office you tell her to lie down. “Uhm. Do you want painkillers or do you want me to give you some of my blood?” Her face turns red and then a smirk appears. “I think your blood would be the best option.”

You let her drink your blood and it looks like she heals pretty fast. “Wow, that works so fast and it’s so good. I bet the rest of you tastes even better.” Now it’s your turn to turn into a tomato. Her head moves toward your neck and you feel her breath. She starts placing small kisses on your neck while moving down. 

You take off your shirt. “Like what you see?” Wanda nods quickly and lifts you up on the medical exam table. “Wow you look gorgeous. I can’t stop staring at you.” You can see the admiration in her eyes. “You’ll have to stop staring through. Because I need you.” Wanda lets her hand drift over your tits down to your hips. “Please Wanda, stop teasing me and just touch me.” 

“Does my princess need me to touch her?” Her hand slips into your pants and slowly drifts over your panties. “Yes, please” Wanda presses her fingers hader and you let a whimper out. “So wet. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” You respond with a nod of your head. 

She pulls your panties to the side and slips a finger in. It feels so good. Finally alone with her. And now you’re in your nurse's office having the time of your life. She adds another finger and you feel like you’re exploding. “Can you be quiet for mommy?” You agree and hold onto her big biceps. 

All of a sudden you get the great idea to hold on to her horns. Then she starts kissing you heavily and you melt with every touch of her. You feel your orgasm edging closer and closer. “Please, mommy, I’m gonna-” you plead her. “Please what baby? Say it or you’re not going to come.” 

A whine escapes you, when she pulls her hand away. “Bad girls don’t get to come. But if you're nice enough for the rest of the meeting you can meet me at my car and we can finish what we started at my house. She winks at you and leaves you sitting frustrated in your own office while she walks back to the meeting.

My masterlist

Taglist (If you want to be added please let me know):

please like and comment if you liked it!

#marvel #wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #Monster High School AU #smut

[flumet]

Starkbucks High School AU

Jock-Artist Steve/Badboy-Genius Tony/Class Represetative-Musician Bucky

#high school au #mcu moodboard #Tony stark #Bucky barnes #Steve rogers #Steve x tony x bucky #Starkbucks #Moodboard #Mcu #Marvel #poly ship #Steve Rogers/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes #Flumet moodboard

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (16.3k words) | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.

“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.

“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.

“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”

“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”

Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”

“Like when you go to the store?”

“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”

“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.

“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”

As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”

It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.

You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.

It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.

Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.

Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.

Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.

“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”

Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.

Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.

Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.

His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.

“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.

“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.

“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”

Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”

Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”

“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.

“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”

“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.

“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”

And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.

Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.

“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”

Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.

Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.

Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.

Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.

You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.

Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.

You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.

You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.

Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.

One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.

“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”

She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.

In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.

And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.

Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.

Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”

His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.

So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.

Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.

In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.

It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.

(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)

A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.

The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?

Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.

The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.

“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.

Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.

You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.

What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?

Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.

It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.

“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.

Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making  effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it.  It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)

Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”

You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.

“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”

“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.

“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.

“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.

“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.

“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”

You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”

You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.

Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.

Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)

Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.

Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?

He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.

Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.

“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.

“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?

“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”

“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”

There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”

“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”

“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”

You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.

“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”

“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”

“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.

“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.

“Because… I lied?”

“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.

“No I didn’t— what?”

“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.

“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.

“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.

“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”

“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”

“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”

“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

And just like that, you have your best friend again.

One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.

A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it,  much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.

The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.

“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.

“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”

Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts  her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.

“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.

Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.

“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”

“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”

“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”

“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.

Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.

“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.

“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.

“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.

“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”

Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”

“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”

She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”

“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”

“Huh? But I do.”

“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”

“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”

“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”

“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”

Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.

“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”

This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.

“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.

“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.

“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”

Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

She’s not so sure you know it, though.

Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.

You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”

“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.

The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?

Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject. 

On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.

“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?” 

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside. 

“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp. 

“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.

“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point. 

You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue. 

You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?” 

He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”

He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”

He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”

“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly. 

His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”

You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”

“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.

“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.” 

“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”

“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”

She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”

You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)

“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”

It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.

“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”

Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.

“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”

Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.

“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”

Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.

“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.

“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.

“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.

The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?

It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.

“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.

They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.

When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.

“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.

“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”

Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”

Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”

She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.

“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”

“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it,  then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.

A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.

“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”

He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.

A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.

At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.

This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.

“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.

You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)

“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.

“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?” 

“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together. 

“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”

“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.

“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip. 

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”

She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”

You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”

“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”

“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.

Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)

“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”

“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”

“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.

“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”

“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”

You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”

She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.

“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”

She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”

You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”

Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).

“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”

“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.

Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.

It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)

Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.

“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.

“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.

“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.

After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.

“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.

“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”

“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.

“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.

Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.

“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.

“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”

The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”

You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.

“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”

“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She contemplates this.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)

Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.

That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.

Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.

The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)

In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.

Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.

You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.

Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in

You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.

“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.

“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.

“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.

“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.

“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.

“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.

“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”

“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.

“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.

“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”

“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.

“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.

The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.

Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.

“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”

“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”

The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.

The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.

Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.

“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.

“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”

“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”

“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.

“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”

“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.

Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.

“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”

She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.

The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.

“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege. 

After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.

You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.

“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”

Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.

“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”

And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.

She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au #mama melina paramore reference u get a cookie if u spot it

[m0rim00]

Highschool Au, CAUSE I AM SO WEAK FOR THEMMMMM

But Sam does have one cute smile, gah

#Marvel Tag #sam wilson #bucky barnes #High school Au #marvel Au #Marvel #Mcu #marvel cinematic universe #au #captain america #Winterfalcon #Sambucky

[fandomnerd9602]

Substitute

Wanda Maximoff x Nerd!Reader

Avengers High Series

Dating the most popular young witch on the Avengers High campus has been one of the greatest joys. Special dates on weekends, front row seating when she's doing a cheerleading routine during one of the football games. Though your favorite thing to do is to just sit together on a cool day and listen to the Lungs album of Florence and the Machine.

But you were deemed the second most intelligent student at Avengers High, second only to Tony Stark; some faculty would deem you first due to your responsible nature. This allowed you some unexpected perks. Mr. Fury approached you one morning with an interesting proposal.

"It's just for one day" he assured you, "notes are already written. I just need a substitute for this class."

"And you want me to do?"

He gave you a nod. You looked at which class it was going to be, an idea already forming in your head.

"Sure thing Mr. Fury" you gave a smile and went off to go talk with Wanda. She, having seen the whole exchange, walked over to you rather confused.

"What was that all about?" She asks with a little giggle.

"Nothing" you reassure her, "see you after class?"

Wanda gives a quick little nod before kissing your cheek and heading off to class.

Wanda's first two classes for the day were uneventful. She tried to sneakily text you but she got no response. You weren't there for lunch either, Wanda was finding today rather unusual for you to not be there. But she made her way to her final class of the day, Creative Writing, her favorite class and you weren't there to walk her to it.

She came into the classroom and slumped into her usual seat, not even looking up. Her fingers quickly typed out one last text to you. Where are you?

Look up, was your response. Wanda immediately looked up and gasped.

"Good morning class" you say with a little smirk, "my name is (Y/N) and I'll be filling in for Miss Hill today"

Wanda couldn't stop staring at you. It wasn't hard, you were at the front of the class and you seemed like such a natural being a leader.

"Ms Maximoff" you smirk, "is there something you wish to share with the class? Your mouth will be catching flies"

Natasha couldn't help but giggle from the back. The red head was getting a kick out of the site before her.

"H-Hi" Wanda managed to get out

"Hello to you as well" you smile before going back into a lecture. You give your girlfriend a little wink. Wanda was hardly paying attention during the entire class period.

And then at the end of the class period, the bell rang signalling the end of another school day. Everyone else was quick to leave except for Wanda, she found herself packing her backpack a little slower than usual.

"So this is where you were?" Wanda found herself laughing.

"Mr. Fury needed someone to fill in so i guess it was either me or Tony" you shrug. The two of you share a little laugh.

"I-I thought you were ignoring me" Wanda bit her lip. You walk up and gently comb a few strands of hair from her face.

"Never" you whisper back, "and from what I saw, you missed a few points of my lecture."

"Oh drat" Wanda mockingly responds as you wrap your arms around her waist. "I suppose you'll just have to tutor me after school today"

"I suppose so." you answer back before pulling her into your arms. "I'm free to tutor you now if you'd like."

Wanda giggles as you begin peppering her face with kisses. "I love our study dates" she sighs as she wraps her arms around your neck, kissing you again.

What a surprise indeed.

for @aloneodi @lifespectator @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @cole-el @holiday-house-of-m @fromtimetoinf @supercorpdanbeau @iamnicodemus @tokufighter @natashaswife4125

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #avengers high #high school au #high school #wanda maximoff fluff

[lesbian-deadpool]

(High school AU)

Natasha, doing homework with Y/N: What did you get for number nine?

Y/N: Switzerland.

Natasha: Well, that's odd since we're doing math.

#source: ??? #incorrect marvel quotes #high school au #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

[widowshaze]

oblivious | w. maximoff

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: when it starts to appear that Wanda's relationship with an infamous jock is hurting her as much as you, you let yourself hope she'll finally set her eyes on what was right infront of her.

warnings: slight angst, alluding to abuse but it never occurs, cursing, your basic best friends to lovers trope

word count: 3.3k

authors note: i have finally written a solid fic for what seems like the first time in forever. it might be shit but it’s a fic and i hope you like it <3 hugs shoutout to the cutie that is @captains-simp for helping me with a summary, love youuu <3

navigation | wanda maximoff masterlist

The slight tap on your window jolted you from your sleep, as you sat up quickly in your bed, your head snapping towards the window. On the other side of the clear glass was no other than your neighbor, and best friend, Wanda Maximoff. She gave you a tiny wave as you let out a breath, and climbed out of bed, moving over to your window and opening it.

“You scared me Maximoff,” you spoke quietly as you held out a hand for her to grab, as she climbed in through the window. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I didn’t want to be alone.” She spoke gently as she wrapped her arms around herself, and it wasn’t until then that you noticed the tear stains down her cheeks and her red-rimmed eyes.

“What happened?” Your voice filled with concern as you wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her to your bed, sitting down with her next to you. She rested her head on your shoulder as she wrapped both of her arms around your waist in an embrace, one you were quick to reciprocate. “Talk to me Wands.”

Her quiet sniffles were the only response you received, so you held her as she cried more. You had always told her if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on, you would be there, and now you literally were.

You couldn’t help the pang of hurt that resonated through your chest as the silent cries left your best friend. It was oblivious to no one but her when it came to the feelings you had for your best friend. From day one, you had always thought about her as something more. But, when you found out she was dating the captain of the baseball team, the most egotistical and down right ass of a human being Jarvis, you settled on being her best friend, and you were happy she was in your life in at least some way.

Her cries eventually subsided to sniffles, her head that was previously resting on your shoulder was now resting in her hands, as she wiped at her face, trying to remove the evidence of her breakdown. Your hand rubbed soft lines on her back, as you spoke your words gently to her. “Do you want to talk about it?” She nodded slightly, turning herself so she was facing you on your bed and crossing her legs in front of her. You positioned yourself so you were facing her as well, wanting to give her nothing but your full attention.

“Jarvis, he uhm, he took me out tonight, you know, six month anniversary or whatever, as if that’s even worth celebrating.” She told you as she wiped a lone tear sliding down her face. “It was nice, romantic even, it was almost like he went out of his way to make it special, like he was wanting something.” She stated and you nodded, grabbing her hands in yours when you noticed she was picking at her fingers, and she smiled gently at you at your actions. “Go on,” you reassured her.

“He drove me home, walked me up to my door, like in those cheesy rom-coms.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, and you tried to clear your throat to mask it. “Sorry, continue.” She raised an eyebrow at you before she continued, “and then he kissed me goodnight, but it wasn’t like the normal goodbye kiss he gives me, it was rough, and hard, and he tried pushing me inside and I told him no, and he lost it.” Her voice cracked on her last few words, and you rubbed your thumb against her hand to try and calm her.

“He started yelling at me, and calling me names,” she spoke through tears. “He raised his hand at me like he was going to hit me,” your grip on her hand tightened, and you could feel your blood beginning to boil.

“Don't tell me-“

“No,” she interrupted you. “ No Y/N/N, he didn’t hit me.” You let out a breath when she reassured you with her words as she continued. “He stopped himself before he did, realized the situation and what he had almost done, he tried to apologize but I slammed the door in his face.”

You smiled at her words, “that’s my girl.” Wanda smiled shyly at your words and dipped her face to look down in her lap in an attempt to hide the blush that crept up on her cheeks at your choice of words. “I barely made it to my room before I broke down, and once I had finally calmed down I didn’t want to be alone, so I came here.”

“You are always welcome here, you know that.” You reassured her as you pulled her into your arms for another hug. “You never have to be alone, Maximoff.” Her grip tightened on you as you kissed the side of her head, before pulling away from the embrace and holding her face between your hands gently. “You deserve so much better than him. Someone who won’t get mad when you deny their advances, someone who will always show you love and support, someone who’s like your best friend, the person who knows you best.”

She smiled at your last statement, “What are you trying to say Y/L/N? That I should what, date you?” She said humorously as she laid down on your bed. “Would that be such a bad thing?” You countered and she looked at you, before bursting into laughter, which you copied, hiding the slight break in your heart at how she took your words so lightly.

“God, Y/N, you really know how to make me feel better,” she told you with a smile and you tried to match her bright smile as best as you could before laying down on the bed next to her. “What else would I be good for?”

“A lot of things,” she spoke into the darkness as she curled into your side. “Plus, you're really warm, and I’m cold.” She murmured as her head rested on your chest as she let herself fall asleep in your presence.

You laid awake, as you held the sleeping girl in your arms and stared up at your ceiling fan, watching it spin round and round, wishing that one day, you could be there more for her than just a friend, a shoulder to cry on.

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

The immediate scoff that left you the second you stepped foot through the double doors into school the next day was heard by those in your immediate vicinity. A few throwing glances your way but your eyes were dead set on the scene in front of you.

Wanda stood leaned up against Jarvis, looking as comfy as ever, so sickeningly sweet that you could almost gag. You wanted to walk up to her, drag her away from her little group and ask her what she could’ve possibly been thinking. If it were you in her shoes, you wouldn’t dare go within a hundred feet of your partner if they did to you what he did to her. You shook your head and breezed past them on your way to your locker, head ducked down and eyes cast to the ground, you didn’t see the glance she gave in your direction when she walked by.

“What’s got your panties in a twist sourpuss?” Low and behold, it was none other than your second best friend (because if we’re being honest, Wanda was your number one), the one and only Natasha Romanoff. The two of you go way back, primary school, the days when the least of your worries was a high school crush. When the only thing the two of you were worried about was how mad your mothers would be for once again, destroying your school uniforms with mud at recess.

“Fuck off Romanoff,” you all but seethed in response as you roughly shut your locker, turning your body to lean against it so you could face her. “Geez Y/L/N, what the fuck has you riled up?” She questioned as she pushed your shoulder, your answer was a subtle nod of your head in the direction of the girl you loved and the boy you absolutely hated.

Nat’s eyesight followed the direction in which your head had nodded, and let out an airy chuckle when her eyes landed on exactly what could have you so pissed off. “I don’t know why you don’t tell her.” She stated matter of factly and you scoffed in response. “As if telling my best friend I’m in love with her would go over so well.”

“I’m offended. I thought I was your best friend.” Her faux hurt made you laugh, as she crossed her arms and pouted. “Oh come on Natty, you know you are.” She rolled her eyes at the nickname you had given her since the two of you had met, she voiced her hatred for it to you multiple times but it was something you insisted on calling her (only because she hated it of course).

“She’s so confusing Nat, one minute she’s crying to me about how poorly he’s treating her and then the next she’s wrapped in his arms like nothing happened.” You vented as you picked at your nails. “She’s worth so much more than that asshole but she’s too naive to see it.”

“Who’s naive?” The voice that broke through your conversation one you could recognize a mile away. “Wanda, hey,” Nat greeted her with a kind smile and you looked up at her.

“Hey Wands,” you spoke softly as the brunette gave you a soft smile, her hand reaching out to squeeze your own, your heartbeat quickening at the action. “I just wanted to thank you for last night, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there.” You gave her a sympathetic smile as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“You know I’ll always be here for you Wanda.” The response was all but what you would normally give her. You were pissed at her, and rightfully so, her smile faded at your response. “Well I uhm, I should get going, Jarvis is probably waiting for me.” You nodded a response before turning back to Nat, starting a conversation about the chemistry homework Harkness had given in the last class.

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you around.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as her footsteps receded down the hall, and you let out a breath once you knew she was out of hearing distance. “Was that bad?” You questioned Nat, who let out a chuckle before slinging her arm around your shoulders and leading you down the hall.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, because that is not how you get the girl.” You failed to notice the frown etched across Wanda’s face as she watched you and Nat descend down the hall.

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

The rest of your day went by in a blur. Constantly counting down the minutes before you could escape this prison and plant yourself in front of your computer for hours to play video games with your friends.

You were about thirty seconds away from having your head slam against your desk, Mr. Shark’s presentation about aerodynamics had drug on for almost three class periods, the science and math behind it quite literally turning your brain mush, and you thought another minute of this and your head might implode.

Just as your eyes were almost sealed shut, the loud shrill of the bell jolted you to reality, your eyes scanned the room as you watched your classmates begin to pack up their belongings and exit the classroom. You weren’t far behind them as you slung your bag over your shoulder and swiftly made your exit, your sights set straight ahead on the two double doors ahead of you.

“Hey Y/L/N!” You heard someone call from down the hall, and you sighed in annoyance as you stopped in your tracks, turning to face the person behind the voice. “Yes, Rogers?” You questioned him as he jogged to catch up with you.

“You’re hopping on later right? Wilson and I don’t think we can win a round of Rebirth if you aren’t on our squad.” You rolled your eyes at his confession, a smirk forming on your lips as you looked back at the boy. “And here I thought you were able to hold your own Rogers.” You teased him as you pinched his cheek, his hand swatting yours away as you chuckled.

“So you’ll be on?” He asked again, his voice filled with hope. You nodded in response, “Yes Rogers, I’ll be on, can’t have your ego falling too far can we?” He was about to rebuke, but you turned and continued on your way before he could, pushing open the door and stepping out into the warm spring air.

Freedom at last, or so you thought.

“Hey dyke!” You heard someone yell from across the parking lot, you gritted your teeth and let out a breath in hopes of calming yourself down before turning to face the idiot who decided to speak. What you didn’t plan on was coming face to face with none other than Jarvis.

“Excuse me?” You quipped at him, your hands clenching as you stared eye to eye with him. “I think you heard me the first time.” He replied snarky as you used all of your will power to hold yourself back from knocking his teeth in.

“What the fuck do you want?” You were annoyed, you just wanted to get on your bike and go home, you wanted to forget about today and enjoy your weekend playing games online with your friends, the last thing you wanted to deal with was him.

“I need you to stay away from Wanda.” You laughed, almost manically, at his response.

“No fucking way that’s happening.” You told him, and he cocked his head to the side before repeating himself.

“I wasn’t asking, I’m telling you, stay away from Wanda.” Again, you laughed at his words, licking your lips before looking him dead in the eye.

“Make me.” And all you saw was a fist hurling towards your face before everything went black.

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

The first thing you felt when you woke up was a throbbing headache, your hand immediately coming up to rub at your face, causing you hissing out in pain when you touched your eye. “You’re awake,” the soft voice filled your eyes as you sat up in the bed, a hand reaching out to hand you an ice pack, which you took gratefully as you applied it gently to your face.

Using your good eye, you looked at the figure sat in front of you on the foot of the bed, Wanda, as she watched you gently, a look of guilt written over her face as you scoffed. “Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” You quipped at her as you avoided her gaze. She looked down at her hands in her lap, picking at the remaining remnants of her black nail polish.

“I broke up with him.” Her words were soft, causing you to look in her direction, you removed the ice pack from your face as you reached a hand forward to grab her own. “I’m sorry, Wands.” Your voice was sympathetic, even though you were silently celebrating on the inside. She let out a wet laugh as she turned to look at you, her eyes rimmed with tears as she laced her fingers with your own.

“I should be the one apologizing, I mean look at you.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly at the way your friend could turn such a sad situation into a funny one. “Do I really look that bad?” You questioned as she pondered an answer, tilting her head to the side as if she was trying to get a better view of your injury. You shoved her shoulder as she broke out into a smile. “You suck Maximoff.” You climbed off the bed and made your way into the attached bathroom, examining your bruised eye in the mirror.

“Okay,” you admitted. “Maybe I do look that bad.” You turned to face towards her again, only to find her standing a mere few inches from you. The sudden appearance caught you off guard, causing you to stumble slightly on your feet, making you grab the first thing that you could to keep yourself from falling backwards, and that was her. Your hands gripped her waist as you caught your footing, subconsciously pulling her body closer to yours during the action.

Her hands grabbed onto your forearms to steady herself as you slightly jolted her with your movements, as she glanced up at you through her eyelashes, you gulped. “I wouldn’t say it necessarily looks bad,” she started as she reached a careful hand to your eye, her fingers gently tracing the outline of the bruise. “It’s kind of badass, hot even.” Her words left your mouth dry, as you watched her carefully, studying her expressions as she spoke.

“I think it suits you well, your already irresistible presence has become untamable,” she whispered as her face leaned closer to yours. The urge to close the distance between the two of you, to finally get a taste of those lips you’ve long dreamt about was right in front of you, but you used every bit of will power inside you to stop.

“I always take the easy route, I always take what’s right in front of me, I’m never one for a challenge,” she admitted as her hands slowly slid up your arms, giving your biceps a gentle squeeze. “And I thought my easy route was Jarvis, he was right there, I didn’t even have to try, he did all of the work.” Her hands moved to rest on your shoulders. “But I was wrong about him, I was wrong and blindsided by his bluntness and egotistical attitude that I didn’t see what was right in front of me.” Her hands were now locked behind your neck, her fingers toying with some stray strands of hair she could find.

“What are you trying to say, Wanda?” You inquired, your heart beating out of your chest and your brain turning into a fuzzy mess as you came to the realization that she just might be admitting to you what you’ve wanted her to say all along.

“What I’m saying Y/N, is that the easy option, the easy route, has always been you. You were always there, right in front of me, waiting, and I was too stupid to see it, too naive to let myself be loved the way I deserved and the way I knew you could.” She confessed and you wanted to rub it in her face, being her best friend and all, tell her that you were always right there, but instead you opted to give her a toothy grin, as your grip around her waist tightened.

“I don’t think you understand how long I’ve waited to hear that,” you admitted as you rested your forehead against her own. “Nat kinda made me aware of that after I punched Jarvis for punching you. Kinda made me realize the feelings I’ve always had for you myself.”

“I’ll have to thank Nat for that later,” you chuckled in response and she smiled. “Now will you shut up and kiss me?” You nodded as you leaned forward and brushed your lips against hers gently before whispering, “now that I can do.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

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