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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 3 years

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Habits - Part 4 (Final)

(A/N) oh hey it’s been like over a month! this took so long bc tbh i was unsure of how i felt abt it the first few times. i wanted to get yelena’s emotional turmoil right, and tbh im not sure i’ve done it the justice i wanted to in my. head, but i think it’s as close as i can get without throwing myself into an intense depressive episode SLFKDJSF so yeah! thank you everyone who read this fic and loved it enough to be patient for this! yall r so good for me <3 let’s fuckin goooo

and yes, i did make a yelena playlist for this

read it on ao3

Rating: E (Explicit, but tbh, this is rather tame compared to the rest)

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Years-Long Depressive Episodes, Yelena is a Fuckboy for REALS like she did NOT nice things, Mentions of child abuse, HEAVY pining. Happy Ending, it does get fluffy I promise. Like, grossly fluffy. Gave me a cavity fluffy.

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 11.7k

Total Word Count: 41.8k

Synopsis: Yelena has been in love with you for, basically, her whole life. Now that you’re hers, she’s never letting you go. (OR: The Yelena POV Chapter)

| Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

Bad Translations: malen'kaya zvezda - little star; Draznit - tease

Yelena has lived her life in ‘maybe’s.

One sort of has to, when they’re seven and in an orphanage in Russia. She ended up here when she was two, and it was always Natasha there to keep her occupied from the unfamiliarity of this strange world she’d come into. She had no memory of any mother or father, no other family to hold onto but Natasha. And then Natasha is gone, and Yelena thinks, ‘Maybe she will come back.’

Except it’s colder and lonelier without her big sister. After a year, she’d begun to feel abandoned. She doesn’t like the other kids, and she doesn’t like the grownups. They didn’t seem to like her much, either. She was too excitable, and according to the grownups she asked too many questions.

By the second year, Yelena is a miserable little seven year old.

And then Natasha is there, tells her she’s coming home with her, and her maybe turns into a finally, and she has a home.

It’s Christmas when Yelena finally moves in. Her first real Christmas, Natasha reminds her, and she is overwhelmed with love. How could she ever doubt that Natasha would come back for her?

She’s nervous when Natasha brings her friend around the day after Christmas. She’d been so preoccupied with her new toys that at first she didn’t notice you, but then she did, and she felt anxious at the intrusion on her still unsettled new life.

But you are kind and patient, and you come with a gift.

“I don’t know what you like,” you tell her, sitting down next to her. “But I found this really cool rock.”

And it is the coolest rock Yelena has ever seen. Smooth, shiny, and while she isn’t the biggest fan of the color pink she finds herself quite fond of the paleness of this rock.

Yelena decides right then and there that you are her favorite person in the entire world (besides her big sister, of course) and she will do anything to spend the rest of her life with you.

“Look! I’m getting it!” Yelena announces, gaining speed on the skateboard.

You give a whoop and Natasha claps with a whistle. Yelena turns - without falling - and heads back towards you. Summer in Ohio is in full swing, the temperatures reaching the mid-nineties. It’s her second summer in Ohio, but she’s still not used to the heat. You’re all dressed accordingly: tank tops and shorts, of course, but Yelena has the added heat of her knee and elbow pads, plus the helmet. She’s dying, naturally.

“I am so thirsty,” she complains. “What are those things with the little man shaped like a vase?”

“Kool-Aid?” You giggle, and Yelena’s stomach, weirdly, twists at the sound. “Do you have any?”

“Mom got us a mixed pack. What flavor do you want?” Natasha takes a step towards the house.

“Cherry,” you say immediately. “It’s my favorite.”

“Boring.” Natasha scoffs. “Lena?”

“Same,” Yelena answers, filing away the information for later although she’s not sure why.

“It’s the best flavor, and anyone who disagrees is lying to themselves.” You snark, earning a sly middle finger that you happily return. You look back to Yelena, who is sweating under the summer sun and the weight of her ridiculous gear.

“Do I have to wear all of this?” Yelena asks, frowning.

“It’s to keep you safe.” You nod. “So yes.”

“That’s dumb, they don’t do that at the park.”

“They’re older, and they’ve done it for longer.”

“But I’m the best.” Yelena declares.

You smile, and Yelena decides she’d like to make you do that as often as possible. “Yeah, you are. But even the best need to be safe. If not for themselves.” You tap the top of her helmet, and suddenly Yelena’s heart is beating like a drum in her ears. “Then for the ones who love them.”

Yelena has no idea what to say to that, but she’s grateful for Natasha’s return. (And doesn’t complain about the helmet and knee and elbow pads again.)

“-mom would probably freak.” You hiss.

“Your mom won’t care, it’s your ghoulish aunts and nana you should worry about.” Natasha argues.

Yelena isn’t snooping.

Really, she’s not.

But she doesn’t like sleeping alone, and doesn’t like that you and Natasha have excluded her from your large blanket fort in the living room. Melina told her that, you’re teenagers now, and that means you want to be alone to talk about ‘girly’ things. Yelena argued that she, too, is a girl so Melina was resigned to just asking her to listen for once.

She pretty much waited until she heard Alexei’s snoring before slipping out of her bedroom to the top of the steps. She’s the best at keeping quiet.

“Fair point,” you sigh, and Yelena strains her hearing a little. “Okay, okay…” Yelena doesn’t hear the name, but the giggling that follows makes her stomach feel, weirdly, heavy. Like something is coiling there, poised and venomous.

“She’s totally into you,” Natasha whispers excitedly. “I heard the other day that-”

Yelena decides maybe she is snooping a little bit and she should just go back to bed.

She goes to sleep feeling funny. It’s not quite unhappiness, but it still brings tears to her eyes and a foreign tightness in her throat. It’s not unlike loneliness, but she isn’t alone, not really. You’re both downstairs, and her parents are just down the hall.

She doesn’t like the feeling, and it sticks with her well into the morning.

Your pajamas are loose and your hair messy. When Yelena pours her milk she spills a drop, suddenly alarmed to find her heart stammering. Is she dying?

“Nice going, spazz,” you tease, ruffling her hair as you grab a bowl and a spoon. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” It comes out a little harsher than she’d intended. She feels guilty immediately. “Sorry, I-I didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep with us,” you sound genuinely apologetic as your eyes meet hers. “But Natasha wanted to talk about… stuff.” Your cheeks darken, and that thing in Yelena’s gut is back, worse than ever, and she is no longer hungry.

“Here, you can finish mine,” she offers. “I’m- I don’t feel good.”

She spends the rest of your visit holed up in her room, and when you and Natasha inevitably try and coax her downstairs, she decides to perform a grammy-worthy sickly eleven year old. They even get Melina to come in and check her temperature, once Natasha offers to walk you home.

“What’s wrong, malen'kaya zvezda? You don’t have a fever, and I haven’t heard you throw up.” Melina asks softly, brushing her daughter’s hair away from her forehead.

“I don’t know,” Yelena admits. “My stomach hurts.”

“Oh, do we have to have the talk about your body changing-”

“We already had that talk!” Yelena squeaks, face burning. “It isn’t that.”

“Then what is it?” Melina continues stroking Yelena’s head as she examines her daughter closely. Weirdly, Yelena feels like she knows exactly what’s wrong with her and is withholding that information.

“I just… overheard Natasha and (Y/N) a little bit.” She shrugs, avoiding her mother’s gaze.

“And…?”

“And I just… felt weird. I don’t know.”

Melina sighs, patting her sympathetically on the head. “You will, one day.”

Yelena frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means you will know.”

“I figured that out, but-”

“I love you, no matter what.” Melina kisses her forehead and moves to the doorway. “I’ll tell Natasha you’re starting to feel better around dinner, yes?”

Grateful, Yelena nods, smiles, and turns over. She waits until the door shuts before turning onto her back again and sighing. She doesn’t care who you have a crush on. She doesn’t. Because she knows that one day, she’s going to be the one-

The one who-

She can’t really finish the thought, because she’s not sure what to finish it with. She likes you a lot, she’s always known that, but this is something new. Something different. It feels weirdly grownup, but also very certain. She just knows that whatever her future is, it has you in it.

To ease the gnawing in her belly and chest, she finds an old notebook she was supposed to be using for her English homework but she rips out the already used pages and starts writing the little things she likes about you. And then the things she knows you like. And then the things she knows you like about her.

Bit by bit, the feeling goes away. Sure enough, by dinner, Yelena is feeling much like herself again.

It was Natasha’s idea to invite your dates over before homecoming. To be honest, Yelena wasn’t quite sure what to expect from yours, but the loathing that immediately settles in her chest at the sight of him is enough to make her bitter the second he steps through the door.

His dumb blonde hair is curly and barely contained for the evening. He reeks of cologne. His blue eyes don’t sit right on his face, and Yelena is distantly reminded of a Mii. Or maybe she’s just being cruel. She doesn’t care.

She does care, however, that you are clearly not as interested in him as he is in you. He’s ogling your violet dress and she hates him for it. He forces his laughter at your jokes and she hates him even more for that because you’re damn funny and damn beautiful and he doesn’t deserve you. Not in a million years.

When you came in, Yelena was braiding Natasha’s hair. Yelena dropped the hairpin in her fingers when you entered the bedroom, your presence drawing her eyes to you through the mirror and she was lost.

Finally, she understood what it was she was feeling for you.

That dumb thing her classmates were all gossiping about.

Love.

Shit.

“Can you do mine?” You asked, and Yelena had to restart her entire mind and body to understand what you’d requested.

Now you and Natasha are taking pictures before you leave, and Yelena has to sit with two new pieces of information without crying or screaming or punching something. First, she is definitely in love with you, which, okay, that shouldn’t be a surprise. Second, she hates your date and she wishes he’d just get the fuck out of state and possibly country.

Yelena entertains the idea of what it would be like if she were taking you.

She might wear a dress, because she feels less comfortable in pants right now, since her arms and legs are starting to grow to ridiculous proportions and the sleeves never ever reach where she needs them to. But she doesn’t like skirts very much, so maybe she’d beg Melina to get something tailored or something.

She’d wear a purple tie, if she had a suit. Something to match your dress. She doubts she could ever compare to you, though. You’re gorgeous, and perfect, and she’s a gangly dork. Her best friend’s little sister who’s practically a baby giraffe.

She’d try, though.

She’d dance with you as long as you wanted her to. She’d sing along to the stupid love songs she says she hates but has memorized because you like them. She might ask you if you’ve always felt this pull, but she’s also afraid of the answer.

Maybe one day she’ll have that slow dance.

(Natasha tells her your date was a bust. He ended up with some other girl who was willing to let him shove his tongue down her throat. You don’t seem too torn up about it, and at that, Yelena lets her mind wander to that perfect world she’s built with you.)

“Stop putting boobs on your fucking snowman you loser,” Natasha throws a snowball at her sister, but the blonde dodges it just in time for it to smack into the head of her snowman.

“Hey! This is art, Natasha, I am being creative, this is my artistic expression.” Yelena scoffs, feigning offense as she gathers a wad of snow in her gloved palms.

There’s shouting coming from your driveway that has both sisters frozen in their spots. You’re scurrying out of the house, the banging of glass following your exit as well as a demand to, ‘Keep the fuck out.’

Your eyes are red-rimmed and flooded with tears. There’s a red mark on your cheek and you’re holding your arm. Yelena looks between you and your house and there’s a horrible, horrible sinking in her gut.

She knew your mom left on Christmas. You spent the whole day crying in hers and Natasha’s room, only returning home the next day. You spent more time with them this winter break than you have in a while, but you went home yesterday to check on your father. He’d lost his job, apparently.

And now you look like a kicked puppy and Yelena feels her blood boil. Natasha grabs her wrist when she takes a step forward, and it’s that paired with the way you throw your arms around the both of them and sob that keeps her from storming into your house to beat the everloving shit out of your father.

With Alexei and Melina at work, the house is empty when Yelena and Natasha guide you to their room through gentle coaxing and awkward six-legged stumbling. Yelena’s bed is closest to the door, so it’s the one you collapse on and drag them onto.

Through hiccups and sniffles, you explain that your dad was drunk when you woke up and got mad when you tried making yourself breakfast. He grabbed your arm and when you tried to pull away, he smacked you.

“You have to tell someone.” Natasha hisses. “Mom will-”

“What, and have my mom come back to that?” You argue, shaking your head fiercely. “No. No way.”

“You don’t know that she’s-”

“She is.” Your hardened tone makes Natasha flinch, but Yelena’s heart swells quite unexpectedly. You’re determined to wait for your mother, even if she might not come back. It strikes something familiar in Yelena, and feeds the flame in her heart.

“You could stay here,” Yelena offers weakly, looking to Natasha questioningly.

“Melina would get suspicious,” you sniffle.

“Not until school starts.” Yelena gives Natasha a look, and the redhead quickly adds:

“And after then, you can just stay at ours until he goes out at night.” She pauses. “Until your mom comes back, of course.”

At this, you relax significantly. Yelena hates the way you carry the weight of this entire situation on your shoulders. These are your parents. How can they have such an iron grip on you? She wishes she could just take you away from here, far away. Hold you close and away from them and their cruelty.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you plead, sounding desperate.

Yelena doesn’t want to keep this a secret. She thinks, just like Natasha, that you should tell someone about this but-

But Yelena cannot resist you, even if she tries. She and Natasha nod hesitantly, and you look so tired and defeated Yelena’s heart aches for you.

Lacrosse season comes, and Yelena has almost grown into those gangly limbs. She’s gotten stronger and faster now that she’s adjusted to her arms and legs, and now she’s one of the best players on the team. You’re at every single game, cheering her on, and Yelena thinks that maybe next year could be it.

She’ll be in high school. That, at least, gives her some sort of even ground. Yes, she’s your best friend’s little sister, but at least in high school you’ll have to take her seriously. Right? Right. So she decides that she’ll just get really fucking good at sports, because girls like girls who are good at sports, and she will win you over by the end of freshman year.

That’s the plan and she sticks to it.

Until she hears shouting from your driveway.

She doesn’t even put on her shoes before she’s out on her front lawn, baffled as your mom pulls her old sedan into reverse with screeching tires.

Yelena doesn’t register following the car, or that Natasha is behind her. Her heart is a roar in her ears that quickly turns into a mind numbing ringing when the car rounds a corner onto the main road. She doesn’t feel the asphalt scrape her knees, or the baffled sob that escapes her.

Yelena doesn’t often think back on the days in the orphanage.

She was young, after all, and the memories were fuzzy. She remembers the loneliness, though. The cold nights she spent alone after Natasha left. The days without Natasha to protect her from the older, bigger girls.

She thinks that this is a lot like that.

And maybe she’s being dramatic.

She doesn’t think so, though.

Because the second her knees hit the pavement, it’s like she snaps out of existence. Out of body. Something very significant is torn from her as those backlights turn off of their little road. She doesn’t recognize the agonized wail as her own. It just rips right out of her, unbidden.

Natasha freezes and just stares at first. Because she has never, not once, seen her little sister like this. Not in the orphanage, not ever. She knew Yelena had a crush on you - it was painfully obvious in Natasha’s opinion - but it’s the gut-wrenching pain in the young girl’s sobs that really punch in the fact that the blonde’s feelings for you are very real and possibly deeper than Natasha had assumed.

And, look, she shouldn’t be surprised. Yelena is fourteen, now. This sort of thing is probably normal. The crush, that is. But this? To any other, this might seem like an overdramatic teenager.

Except this is Yelena. And, as dramatic as she can be, she doesn’t even like to cry in front of others let alone outright bawl in the middle of the street.

So Natasha kicks herself for delaying in responding properly, swallows away her own pain at watching you leave without explanation, and pulls her sobbing sister into her arms. Yelena needs her.

(But it isn’t really Natasha that Yelena needs.)

Melina surprises the redhead by knowing exactly what is wrong with Yelena and getting to work immediately. She pulls the blonde into her arms and lets her cry for what feels like an eternity and Natasha is just helpless.

Truth is, Natasha is the big sister but Yelena has always been the brave one. The bold one. The fearless one. So to see her like this?

Yeah, she has no idea how to react.

So she lets Melina take over, sitting idly by and waiting for instruction.

When Yelena runs out of tears, they clean her wounds and encourage her to get into her pajamas. She falls asleep as soon as she’s in bed.

“What are we going to do?” Natasha asks in a whisper, once they’re outside of the bedroom.

“She’s young,” Melina offers, but it’s rather obvious she has no idea what to do, either. “She might get over this… infatuation.”

“I mean, it feels like a little more than an infatuation, doesn’t it?” Natasha scoffs. “Do we… I mean, should we, like, call a therapist?”

“If she wants,” Melina shrugs, frowning. “I will try and locate her mother, see if there is any way we can keep you girls in contact. It was rather rude of her to not offer, wasn’t it?”

Natasha’s tongue feels too dry and thick for her mouth so she nods wordlessly. She wants to tell Melina that of course your mom would want to get the fuck away from your shitty father. If something happened, if he hit you or her, there’s no way she’d stand for it.

She doesn’t say a thing though.

Because her little sister is experiencing her first real heartbreak, and it’s her job to fix it.

The summer after her freshman year, Yelena does more than grow into her limbs. The puberty stick hits her hard and fast, and she’s quick to pick up on how easily she can wrap pretty girls around her finger. The girls that aren’t sure about their sexuality, the ones that already know and just want to fool around.

When Natasha leaves for college, it occurs to Yelena that, besides you and Natasha, Yelena doesn’t really like anyone else. Even though Natasha is just a thirty minute drive away, the distance feels gaping.

And the more she thinks about that distance the more she thinks about you, and she wonders where you are, who you’re with. And the more she thinks about that the less she sees that ‘maybe’ that always led to a future with you. And the more she thinks about that, the more she has to fill that emptiness with something. Anything.

So she hangs out with her lacrosse team more.

And they’re a little wild.

Maybe Melina feels guilty for not finding you or your mom, or maybe she still feels sorry for her, but she never questions when Yelena comes home late as long as Yelena keeps up with her grades and lacrosse. She’s damn lucky she’s smart, or else she’d be in the shitter because Yelena does nothing but drink and fuck when she isn’t in school or doing lacrosse.

It’s weirdly easy to go through them.

She can’t recall all of their names, but there are a few she remembers:

Aliya had your smile and laugh; she was fine, she really liked Yelena and for a while Yelena thought she liked Aliya, too. But she couldn’t stop listening for your voice to follow that laugh and when it didn’t it was just so fucking disappointing she just leaves Aliya’s house before she wakes up one morning with a note saying she can’t do this anymore.

Eva had your hair and eyes, and for a time, it was so damn easy to pretend it was you she was with. And then Eva saw the pictures you and Natasha took at homecoming - which still hang boldly on Natasha’s side of the room - and when she asks who you are, Yelena snaps that it’s none of her fucking business and that’s pretty much that for that relationship.

Hailee has your sense of humor and she’s on the lacrosse team with Yelena. They keep it light and breezy, just hooking up without feelings and it’s great. Until Hailee tells Yelena she thought they were dating, and Yelena had no idea, and then Hailee outright quits the team.

Yelena can’t quite figure out what the fuck is wrong with her.

There’s something missing. She hates that it’s missing, she hates to admit that it’s missing but she can’t stop comparing and there’s no use pretending. You’re jammed into her mind, a permanent fixture, and it doesn’t matter who she’s with or how hard she pretends, they’ll never be you.

But you’re gone.

And Yelena hates it.

She hates your father who can barely hold a job but keeps spending his money on booze so he can lock himself away in his empty house that used to have you in it. She hates passing by it on her skateboard, her eyes always finding your window and always finding it dark. She hates that you’ll never come back to her, hates that her maybe has turned into a never and that she isn’t going to get what she wants.

So she stops trying.

She’s honest with them now, at least. ‘I don’t expect anything but sex out of this.’ At least when they get pissy, she can say she warned them.

“What is wrong with you lately?” Natasha asks.

It’s Spring Break, and rather than partying with her friends in Florida or wherever, Natasha has decided to come home. She’d heard from a friend of a friend that her little sister was sort of acting out, and it was rather odd that Melina wasn’t doing anything about it; or at least wasn’t calling Natasha about it.

“What are you talking about?” Yelena asks, yawning. She’d slept in, it’s nearly three in the afternoon, but her head is heavy with how much she’d drank last night.

“You’re partying now? What, you think you’re some cool kid for getting wasted on a Thursday and spending the night at some bimbo’s house?” She nudges Yelena’s covered feet. “Huh?”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Yelena groans, throwing her pillow over her head in the hopes of drowning out her sister and the afternoon light.

Natasha yanks the pillow away, throws it across the room. “I want to know why you’re wasting yourself away like this!”

Yelena opens her eyes and glares at her sister. “I’m not wasting anything. Ask Mom, I have perfect grades and I’m captain of the lacrosse team.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re doing to keep Mom off your ass, but it’s not gonna work on me. I’m your sister, Lena. Just be honest with me.”

Yelena hates it when Natasha does that. Gets right under her goddamn skin.

She sighs, relaxes back against the pillows and stares up at the ceiling. Counts five of the same stars a few times before answering. “I don’t know.”

Natasha’s expression is annoyingly pitiful as she sits down at the edge of Yelena’s bed, nudging the blonde’s legs aside. “I know you feel abandoned since I moved out for college.”

Yelena tries not to roll her eyes. “That’s not it, but… I do miss you.”

“Then what is it?” Natasha presses.

Yelena shuts her eyes, rubs them with her hands. “I don’t know.”

“You clearly do if it isn’t me not being here.”

“It’s not just you-”

“Is it (Y/N)?” Natasha’s utterance of your name sends a fresh wave of pain through Yelena, like she’s still fourteen and watching the backlights fade on the highway. At the silence that follows, Natasha says, “You can’t just hold onto that. It isn’t fair to you. You were fourteen-”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Yelena snaps. “Whatever, I’m not doing anything that fucks me over for college so just back the fuck off, Natasha, for once.”

“Speaking of,” Natasha decides she’s prodded her sister enough, knowing the blonde can only handle so much before truly losing her shit, and instead goes for a safe change in subject. “I’ve been thinking of transferring out of Ohio State when you graduate. We should go somewhere together. Get away from this small town, huh?”

Yelena smiles at that, visibly relaxing at this new topic. “Yeah, I would like that.”

Her last girlfriend in Ohio is the one she feels guiltiest about.

She’s too much like you. In every way.

Yelena convinces herself for the first few weeks that she can maybe fall in love with this girl. When she does, eventually, realize she’s just lying to herself again, the idea of not having someone so similar is just agonizing. So she forces herself to pretend. And she lets the girl fall for her, and lies through her goddamn teeth when she says it back.

It’s the team’s graduation party when she really fucks it all up.

Since it was her last year on the team and as captain at that, Yelena was pretty much given shots left and right until her whole mind was spinning and she was definitely not in the right state of mind to start fooling around with her girlfriend that she pretended to love.

And her lips are on Yelena’s neck, and all she can see is you, and all she wants is you, and all she ever wants and loves is always going to be you. Your name tumbles from her lips, and then her girlfriend yanks away like she’d been struck.

Embarrassed and suddenly incredibly fucking sad, Yelena picks a fight, and she leaves the house in a screaming match, effectively burning every single bridge she’s got in Ohio that isn’t a relative.

Stellar.

If Melina and Alexei notice her sudden absence of friends throughout the summer, they don’t say anything. Melina, at least, seems thrilled that Yelena isn’t spending the night doing who-knows-what anymore, but she’s still worried that her daughter’s fallen back into that ever-present sadness that always settled around her ever since you left.

Melina, honestly, is a scientific mind. It’s her job, technically, but beyond that, it’s how she was brought up. She just isn’t the spiritual type, never has been. But she thinks that maybe soulmates are real, and the absence of one’s soulmate takes a physical toll and she is watching the damage right in front of her and she is useless.

So she spends time with Yelena like she used to. Just talking or cooking or asking about college.

Yelena and Natasha are going to Philly. It worries their mother to be so far away, but she’s confident in her girls’ ability to kick ass and take names. At least Natasha will be able to keep her from hurting herself.

Yelena has been going through her closet and dresser for days, indecisive over what to bring and what to have Alexei drive in the weekend after. She’s mentally checking over which posters and pictures she wants to take when she gets the text from Natasha:

finally found a roomie (5:21pm)

youll NEVER guess who it is (5:21pm)

One ten minute phone call later, and Yelena can feel something clicking into place. Something final, something dangerously close to ‘maybe’.

“I know it’s been years, but I have been waiting what feels like my entire life to tell you that you are everything to me.” Maybe that’s a little intense.

“Oh my god, (Y/N), is that you? Wow, you look beautiful. Can I spend forever in your arms?” Wow, yeah, also a little intense.

“When you left I kind of had a massive depressive episode for a few years. Do you want to get a coffee and talk about all the things I love about you?” Yelena is starting to give up on how to talk to you.

She’s finally settled into her dorm, and she’s comfortable enough with her roommate that she probably doesn’t seem like a total maniac for staring at herself in the mirror for so long. Yelena isn’t good with speeches, words have never been her forté, but they seem incredibly important right now. Is she going to be able to win you over so easily, though? Just a few simple words, and what, you’ll fall to putty in her hands?

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Maria announces. “Are you meeting someone at your sister’s party?”

Yelena blushes, eyes going wide as they meet her roommate’s through the mirror. “I- what gave you that impression?”

“You’ve been staring at yourself and fixing your hair for the past ten minutes.” Maria chuckles. “So, who is it?”

“It’s… complicated.” Yelena clears her throat awkwardly, toying with her hair again.

“Well, you look great. They’ll be all over you.” Maria gives her a confident grin.

Yelena inhales slowly, forces a confident grin of her own. “You’re right.”

“‘Atta girl.”

Natasha had told her to just walk in, so she does. She said she hadn’t told you about her coming by, so she’s supposed to be a ‘surprise’. She doubts she’ll ever be as much a gift to you as you are to her, but she likes the idea of catching you off guard so she can at least have some kind of even ground.

But then she sees you, and all sense of even ground is lost. It amazes her that she can still feel breathless, weightless, at the sight of you. Her whole body buzzes with something warm and gooey. Natasha is nowhere to be found, but it’s not like Yelena really cares to find her at the moment. That piece of her that had been missing is clicking into place again, she feels like a person again.

You stand up from the couch you’d been on when Yelena approaches, knocking into her and nearly toppling over. Yelena catches you easily, grateful that her years of playing lacrosse have gifted her with good reflexes.

Your eyes briefly meet hers and then trail over Yelena’s body. With shock, Yelena realizes you don’t recognize her. Has she changed that much? And the way you’re looking at her-

Her maybe is looking more and more concrete.

(There is no way in hell you aren’t into her.)

Yelena sort of wishes she brought her notebook, but the idea of you finding it now is kind of mortifying. Besides, she’s long since memorized the pages. She reminds herself of little things like your favorite flower, and she decides that before the school year starts, she’s going to do everything in her power to make you hers.

Because you are so clearly into her. The chemistry is there. Yelena isn’t stupid. Neither are you. There is something there, something real, and Yelena is holding onto it with everything she has. Even if right now it’s just lust, Yelena can work with that. She can make you fall for her.

“My mom had that exact vest.” Maria says from her bed. “Where’d you get it?”

Yelena smiles, but she isn’t really sure why. It just happens. “A thrift store in the city.”

“Your dumb smile tells me things went good with your mystery girl?”

Yelena looks at her roommate, her grin turning into a smirk. “Yes, actually. She’s definitely interested.”

“And when should I expect her to come by?”

“We haven’t exactly done anything yet.”

“What?” Maria snorts. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” and Yelena launches into the events of the evening without the exact specifics. Just that you basically eyed her like a slab of meat and proceeded to flirt with her all morning.

“So you went on a date?” Maria confirms questioningly.

“That’s what I said!” Yelena exclaims, feeling extremely vindicated. “But… she is still hesitant, which makes sense, I guess…” Things are only complicated if one thinks of them for too long, so Yelena doesn’t.

“She should still stop lying to herself.” Maria concludes. “You got this, Lena. She’ll be yours in no time.”

Yelena couldn’t agree more.

Yelena decides that Wanda and Natasha going out is the perfect time to make an unannounced visit to the apartment. She really didn’t think you’d go with them. You used to hate crowds. But, whatever, Yelena can wait because she knows for certain that Natasha will be going home with Wanda so they can spend all of Sunday being grossly into each other.

And the wait is absolutely fucking worth it.

You’re already in a frenzy when you come home, and Yelena won’t lie, she kind of uses that to her advantage. But you want this and you’re finally admitting it and Yelena can’t stop thinking about how perfect it feels to finally touch you. Not only there, but everywhere. Every inch of skin is instantly memorized, adored. She has to control her breathing and her actions, because she should take her time, but god, she wants this. She has never wanted like this in her life.

And you want to touch her too, and she can’t believe how fucking lucky she is to end up right here, right now with you. To be born in a time that her hands could hold yours.

Yelena throws the ‘maybe’ a thousand miles away and decides that, fuck maybe, you’re hers and she’s endlessly, hopelessly yours.

Yelena believes she has become addicted to your touch. To your very breath. She can’t get enough of you; she drinks you in every chance she gets, soaks in your existence. She has never been good with words, so she shows you her love in the only way she’s ever really learned how to.

She basically fucks you until hers are the only fingers that can satisfy you. Which might be selfish of her, but when your ‘dates’ don’t turn into frenzied makeout sessions or more, there is something. It’s weighted, unspoken but tangible. Yelena swears she could just reach out and grasp it if she tried.

But she doesn’t.

She’s perpetually tongue tied, every single time she tries to put it to words.

Mesmerized. She’s absolutely mesmerized and enamored and enchanted with you, for starters.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” You ask, your voice slurred with sleep.

Yelena isn’t sure how to say that she’s thinking of all the ways she’d like to marry you, so instead, she kisses you and says, “Nothing at all.”

(Except she thinks so much sometimes, all it takes is a kiss from you to still her mind.)

Yelena wonders if she should feel bad about the guilt in your eyes when you remember who she is to Natasha. She wonders if it should hurt so much seeing that guilt. She wonders if you regret this, if you don’t want it. She can’t stand the thought of losing you just after finally having you, but-

Honestly?

She wants to tell Natasha.

Natasha, her big sister, with whom she has shared everything until now. If Natasha could see her now, compared to how she was this time last year, she’d be thrilled. Ecstatic to see that her little sister isn’t totally insane anymore.

She wants to tell Natasha that she has her person again, her missing something, and she wants to tell her how happy she is. Wants to tell the whole fucking world, really. You are so special to her, and she should be able to tell who she wants.

She should be able to tell you.

But the words get caught in her throat.

How could she ever spit them out when you look up at her from between her thighs with something so close to love it makes Yelena’s mind spin? Or when you’re telling her that you’re hers, hers alone, and it’s her name that spills from your lips when you’re at your peak?

There aren’t enough words in the world to string together how fucking perfect this bubble you’ve built for yourselves is.

Maybe it’s seeing Natasha and Wanda being schmoozed and grilled by Melina that sets Yelena’s mind up for the inevitable. She’s been on edge about this trip ever since you promised you’d come with her to Ohio for Thanksgiving. She wanted to spend time with you, but she also sort of figured you’d have told Natasha by now.

And you haven’t.

So.

Yes, she’s on edge, and yes, she might be a little more emotional than she intended when she snaps on you and she feels damn guilty about it as she lays in bed. She knows she isn’t in the wrong here, that her expectations are understandable, but she hates the distance between hers and Natasha’s bed more than she has in a long, long time.

So she gives in after hearing you wake up and stir for the millionth time, and lets you slip in beside her, and decides she’d rather be sad in your arms than anywhere else.

And then you tell her you love her.

And Yelena doesn’t believe she’s heard correctly at first.

How many years had she waited for those exact words to come from your mouth?

(She doesn’t even care, because it’s just as perfect as she’d imagined.)

Yelena and Natasha have fought before. Of course they have. They’re sisters, and no matter how much they love each other, fighting is inevitable. Physical fights have only happened twice, but never has Alexei had to physically pry Yelena away from her sister. Seeing Natasha punch you just made something snap in her, she can’t explain it, but her relation to Natasha is far from her mind as blood spills from your nose.

When the redhead storms out, Yelena decides feeling pissed off is easier than feeling guilty, so she works on taking care of you and seething. When you slip into the bathroom, Melina pulls her daughter aside with a tight-lipped smile.

“Do you want to explain what is happening to my family?” She asks quietly, so as to not be overheard by you. Alexei lingers not-so-subtly by the door, in case you come out. “I have never seen you and Natasha fight like that.”

Yelena eyes the bathroom door with a scowl. “She shouldn’t have punched (Y/N).”

Melina hums. “Yes, but I’m not talking about that.” When Yelena gives her a confused frown, Melina clarifies: “You used to tell her everything. Why hide this relationship from her? She knew you had feelings for (Y/N).”

“She knew I had them when I was fourteen,” Yelena mutters, blushing. “It wasn’t… necessarily my idea.” Melina’s eyebrow twitches. “She just didn’t want Natasha to… well, do that.”

“I see,” Melina hums. “Well, I’m happy to see you happy, malen'kaya zvezda. You know I am. I know this is something you have wanted for a very, very long time.”

“Mom–” Yelena hisses, her blush darkening.

“But I don’t want it to come at the cost of our family.” Melina concludes. “When Natasha comes back, I want you to talk. Have a real talk about high school, and about (Y/N).”

Yelena tries not to groan. Melina is right, and she knows it, and she hates it. “Okay. I will talk to her.”

Alexei gives a cough into his fist, stepping away from the door. Yelena takes his place, trying to prepare herself for the awful talk she knows is coming.

She spends the entirety of your absence thinking about what she wants to say. Because, honestly, how can she explain it in a way that Natasha will understand? She’s not even sure if she understands it herself, but she’s not going to lose one of her favorite people over something that makes her feel so genuinely happy and fulfilled.

When you and Natasha return, Yelena is relieved to find that it’s peacefully. She leads Natasha to their back porch with a slight nod. She settles down on one of the steps and sits in silence with her sister for several moments. She remembers chasing fireflies around this yard with you and Natasha, delighting in the little insects and their precious light.

“I’m not mad, you know,” Natasha breaks the silence.

“I know,” Yelena gives her a small smile.

“I kind of figured this would happen,” Natasha shrugs and Yelena feels her cheeks flushing. “I mean, when (Y/N) left…” The redhead shakes her head, closes her eyes as if in pain. “You really, really scared the shit out of me.”

Guilt stabs at Yelena’s gut, sharp and venomous. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Natasha opens her eyes and gives her a weary expression. “So… you wanna explain, then? What was really going on in your head those years?”

Yelena inhales slowly, looks back out to the yard. Leaves catch on a breeze, twirling mindlessly until they land on soft grass. “I just felt…” Yelena begins slowly, carefully. “This piece of myself was missing. Do you know what I mean? Like– I just, couldn’t think past this… wall. This haze.” She taps her head. “She was all I could think about, and I– I tried to find her in others, but…”

“But you couldn’t.” Concludes Natasha, laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “Jesus, Lena, you really have it that bad?”

Yelena grins despite the worsening blush on her cheeks. “I do,” she admits. “I love her. A lot. I’ve always loved her.”

“I know you have,” Natasha sighs. “It’s kind of cute, I guess.” She says this last part with an extra dramatic tone, gagging a little at the end.

Yelena snorts, shoving her sister’s shoulder. “Please, you and Wanda are the queens of PDA.”

Natasha’s lips pull into a smile. “What can I say, she’s my other half.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

(She does. Wholeheartedly.)

That first morning, waking up with you in her arms and no secrets waiting downstairs, is the best morning Yelena has ever had in her entire life. She wakes up a full hour before you and can’t help watching your sleeping form as the dawn spilled through her windows. When your eyes blink sleepily open at her, she’s so full of love she lets a smile split her face.

“What?” You ask, voice hoarse with sleep.

“I just love you, that’s all,” Yelena murmurs honestly.

You smile brilliantly and that’s when Yelena finally gets a good look at the damage to your nose and winces. You reach up and touch it with a hiss. “That bad, huh? I must look hideous.”

“No,” Yelena takes your hand in hers and pulls it to her lips, pressing a kiss to your palm. “No, detka, you could never look hideous.”

Your blush is deep and beautiful, sending a flurry of butterflies to Yelena’s stomach. “Be serious. Half my face is purple.”

“It’s a good thing that purple is one of my favorite colors.” She kisses your knuckles, keeping her eyes on yours. “If you want, I could give Natasha one to match?”

You laugh softly. “No, it’s fine. Let’s just guilt trip her a little, see if we can rile her up.”

Yelena can’t resist anymore and leans in to kiss you sweetly. “I really, really love you.”

You giggle and kiss her again. Yelena cannot believe how fucking lucky she is.

The entire day is perfect.

Until it isn’t.

And that bastard shows his ugly face. Yelena has always dreamed of the day she got to hit him. She’s thought of so many ways to make him suffer. He took you away from her, he hurt you - Yelena would be lying if she said she wasn’t just waiting for an excuse to do what she’s always wanted to. So, yes, maybe she loses control when he finds the both of you in the parking lot.

But dammit, if it isn’t satisfying as hell.

She’s pretty sure she’ll tell her grandkids about it. (“Let me tell you about the time your babka punched your nana’s daddy in the face!”)

It’s damn worth it, too, to see the complete shock on his face. She’s definitely knocked a few teeth loose, the blood coming from his mouth is everywhere from when he spit at her. His nose is crooked, too. She’s done worse damage to his nose than Natasha had to yours, that much is obvious. If he remembers her from your childhood, she can’t be sure, but she knows for a fact that he hadn’t been expecting her to be as strong as she is.

The only regret she feels is when she finally gets into the van with you and realizes just how terrified you’d been for her. Not of him, but for her. She still can’t believe you care for her as much as you do, and she scolds herself mentally for it as she holds you in her arms.

(She’ll do better, she promises silently.)

“Oh, detka, you shouldn’t have,” Yelena practically moans the second she enters your bedroom. You’d told her that her Christmas present would be given early, and while Yelena had something like this in mind, she didn’t want to be too presumptuous.

But here you are, in deep red lingerie with garter straps and everything. Yelena’s jaw is damn near on the floor. Is she drooling? She doesn’t even know where to look besides everywhere.

You laugh at her speechlessness, stepping forward until you can wrap your arms around her neck. It wasn’t hard to convince Natasha to leave the apartment for the night, which means you’ve got it all to yourselves and you plan on taking full advantage.

“Don’t you wanna unwrap your present?” You ask sweetly, looking up at Yelena through your lashes.

She grabs your hips and shoves you against the wall with more force than she’d intended, but your resulting moan tells her you don’t mind. Her lips claim yours as her hands wander the expanse of your little outfit. The lace, the ribbon on the front, she can’t figure out where to let them settle so she just touches wherever she can reach and swallows your little whimpers.

“Fuck, you are so fucking sexy,” Yelena hisses, dragging her lips to your ear. “You got this just for me?”

“Of course it’s just for you, baby,” you chuckle. “Who else would it be for?”

“I am the luckiest girl in the world,” the blonde purrs, hands grabbing at your thighs until you hop up and wrap them around her waist. “With the prettiest present in the world.”

Yelena carries you to your bed, releasing you when you’re at your pillows. She takes her place between your legs, balancing herself on her knees while she runs her hands up and down the length of your legs, toying with the garters every time she passes them. Your breath hitches as you squirm under her touch, but Yelena isn’t going to indulge you just yet.

“What gave you this idea, hm?” She asks, trailing her fingertips along the inside of your thighs.

You shiver. “I just- I mean, I don’t have anything sexy like this- and- and I thought you’d like it…”

“Oh, I love it,” she teases the edge of the thong you’d worn for the evening. Soaked. She loves the effect she has on you. “You look good enough to eat, malyshka.” Your cheeks flush at that, and Yelena decides your neck is looking less marked than she’d like so she leans down to start leaving dark hickeys on the skin there.

Your hands tangle in her hair, like you can’t get enough of her skin touching yours, and Yelena lets that bring a low hum from her throat. She loves how reactive you are to her touch, how vocal you become the more insistent her kisses and touches become. Blunt fingernails drag over your skin, tracing thin red lines in their wake.

Yelena has long since mapped every inch of your body. She finds all the spots that make you twitch and whine, savors the spots that draw out the raspier moans and heavier breaths. She waits until she can almost feel the heat between your thighs without even having to touch there. Waits until your eyes are so dark they’re almost black with want. Waits until your pleas become desperate. Then, and only then, does Yelena finally lower her mouth to where you need her.

Like a symphony, your noises fill the room and Yelena drowns in them. She would happily listen to them forever, would happily die between your thighs. She grips the garter straps, pins you to the bed and makes you wail in pleasure, her tongue finding all the right places to make you come apart.

Of course, Yelena has always been a little selfish. Just a tad.

She makes you weak with pleasure, until your body is trembling and coated in sweat. Until her fingers have exhausted you to your breaking point, your breaths heavy and full of pitiful whines. Hers is the only name she wants leaving your lips, she’d spend the rest of her life in this bed if it were up to her.

When it’s Yelena’s turn, and you’re straddling her hips with love in your eyes, Yelena can’t imagine any better place to be in the entire fucking universe.

Yelena hovers by the dining room, unsure of herself. She’d told you she’d be right behind you when you went to your room, but she hadn’t said much else and you were so sleepy you hadn’t questioned her. She waits until your mom’s fiancé is washing the dishes before approaching the older woman.

“Miss (Y/L/N)? Can- may I talk to you?” She asks, hating how awkward she sounds.

Surprised, your mother looks up from where she’d been pouring herself the last of the wine into a glass. “Of course. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Yelena pauses. “Well, actually… I wanted to talk to you about- about that phone call you had with (Y/N) before we came here.”

“I see.” Your mother sits down in her chair pleasantly before taking a long drink of her wine.

Yelena hesitates before sitting on the edge of one of the other chairs. “I understand that things with (Y/N)’s father… made your family view you differently,” she begins slowly, keeping a careful watch over the way your mother’s gaze hardens. “And it may have made you view love differently, but… what I feel for your daughter, and what she - thankfully - feels for me, is real. It is not a phase, we aren’t doing it to ‘experiment’. I love her. Deeply.”

Yelena takes a slow breath. “And, if I am honest, if it were up to me, after that call…” She makes sure she keeps her tone even, trying to sound a little more grownup. “We would not have come here. Ever.” The blonde swallows thickly when your mother doesn’t immediately respond. “But (Y/N) cares about you. You’re her mother, her only family, I understand this. So I’m trying, Miss, but I just want (Y/N) to be happy and if you get in the way of that I don’t want you in our future.”

Your mother takes all of this in complete silence, only occasionally raising her glass to her lips. The following silence feels so much louder than if your mother had just screamed at the blonde. She’s honestly still waiting for it, waiting for the boot to drop. Something.

“You’re right,” your mother says finally, and Yelena actually has to physically stop her jaw from dropping by clamping it shut. “I do view love differently.” Her eyes fall to her glass. “I was young, dumb, and impressionable when I met her father, but he was a different man, then. People change over time, that’s what you young folk keep forgetting.” When she looks back at Yelena, the blonde is gobsmacked to find amusement in her gaze. “(Y/N) has changed. She will change. You’ll change, too.”

“But I won’t ever be like him.” Yelena swears confidently.

Your mother’s eyes narrow. They aren’t the same color as yours, which Yelena hadn’t noticed until now. “You might not be.” She finishes the glass. “But, I won’t lie, she’s different with you. I’ve never seen her so happy.” For a moment, she looks guilty, but quickly masks it with a plastered smile. “So, I’m sorry, Yelena. For doubting your feelings for my daughter.” Yelena wasn’t expecting that. “But, please, do be careful around our family. Not for my sake,” she cringes, “I was wrong to say it was for my sake. I just don’t want my little girl to be cut off from her family the way I was.”

“Maybe you’d both have been better off,” Yelena offers.

“Maybe,” your mother hums. “It’s too late for that, now. Family is important to me.” The approaching footsteps of her fiancé brings a softer smile to your mother’s face. “And maybe one day, you’ll be part of that family, too.”

Yelena blushes. “I- thank you…”

“Must I give you the shovel talk? Or are we finished?”

Yelena stands up a little too quickly. She clears her throat, nods, mutters several awkward thank-you’s, and scurries towards your bedroom in a daze. That talk went way, way better than she’d expected. ‘People change’, huh? Okay, she thinks, if people change, then prove it.

You’re already asleep when she slips into bed. Ice Skating must have worn you out. She watches you with a fond grin for a long moment before leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek and taking her place wrapped around you from behind. You wake up just long enough to take a deep, contented breath and Yelena feels the stars align in her arms.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Yelena encourages, guiding you through the hallway. She looks behind her cautiously to where Natasha is waiting with your surprise in her arms with a grin almost as maniacal as Yelena’s. “Just a little further.”

“Is it that swing you were talking about? I told you, find me a comprehensive tutorial video and some good warmup stretches-” you start but Yelena quickly cuts you off before you can humiliate her in front of Natasha and Wanda.

“No! No, it isn’t that! Nope-” she squeaks, bringing you to a stop in your shared living room.

You’ve shared this house for almost two years now, and it never stopped filling her with happiness to wake up next to you every single morning. To have your days uninterrupted - well, save for work - and your evenings to yourselves. It’s better than she’d imagined, and yet it’s also everything she’d hoped it to be.

“Open your eyes.” She encourages.

You open them and gasp at the squirming puppy in Natasha’s arms. “Shut up. No, fuck, babe-”

“Hey, no cursing in front of our child!” She scolds as Natasha deposits the puppy into your arms where you’re immediately assaulted by licks. “Her name is Fannie. Fannie Longbottom.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” You giggle, rolling your eyes at her.

“There’s actually a funny story behind that.” Natasha joins her fiancée on the couch.

“When Pietro last went to visit Sokovia,” Wanda begins with a chuckle, “he met a man with some puppies for sale. Whatever flight he used wouldn’t allow dogs on board. So, he purchased a plane ticket under the fake name Fannie Longbottom’ and hid her in his jacket the entire flight. Lo and beyond,” she motions to the puppy, “Fannie Longbottom.”

“And I thought since Natasha and Wanda won’t let us get married first, we could have a kid first.” Yelena adds, wrapping an arm around your waist and petting Fanny with her other hand.

You grin at her and connect your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss. “I love her, baby. And I love you.” You look to Wanda. “And tell your brother I love him, too.”

“Hey,” Yelena pouts. “I could go to Sokovia and bring us a dog.”

“Baby, we already have a child, we aren’t ready for twins.” You giggle, kissing her again. “And you know I’ll always love you most.”

“God, you guys never get any less insufferable.” Natasha complains.

Fannie squirms and whines.

Yelena thinks her little family couldn’t get any more perfect.

“What is this?” You ask, flipping through something.

Curiously, Yelena peers over your shoulder and freezes. The notebook in your hands is one she is deeply, intimately, familiar with. Scrawled on the front in her own twelve year old handwriting are death threats, and within the confines of this dreaded book are the many things Yelena may or may not have been keeping track about you when you were kids.

“Oh my god, babe, you had a whole diary dedicated to me?” You snort, unable to resist laughing.

Yelena’s cheeks are a deep crimson. “It is not a diary, it is a journal. Now give it!” She reaches for it but you dodge her a little too easily. She makes for another grab but you’re scurrying away with your nose buried in the book.

“You knew my favorite snacks and bands?”

“You were my first crush, I didn’t know how to deal with it! Stop making it weird!”

“Oh, it’s definitely weird,” you tease, practically leaping over the bed to escape her. “But it’s so cute and dorky.” You gasp, turning the notebook around and Yelena can’t fight back the groan and cringe. “You really have been planning our wedding since you were twelve! Are these honeymoon locations? Rio?”

“I think we should breakup.”

“Like you could ever,” you stick your tongue out at her. “Ooh, are these dog names or child names?”

If it were possible, Yelena’s cheeks are even darker. “D-dog names.”

You come around the bed and pull Yelena into a passionate kiss. You lean your forehead against hers, grinning. “You’re such a dork.”

“I am not.”

“Are so.” You smack her thigh with the notebook. “And I’ve got evidence.”

“Only until I burn that.”

“Nope, this is going to be passed down through the family.”

Yelena grabs the notebook.

“No! The sacred texts!” You gasp, and she has the audacity to hold the notebook above your head. “Oh, real mature.”

“Grow a few inches, maybe?” Yelena sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry.

You pout up at her. There’s really only one way to win this. You stop your erratic reaching and move your hand to snake around the back of her neck, threading your fingers through her hair until you’re lightly scratching her scalp. The effect is, as expected, immediate. Yelena’s breath catches, and she’s completely lost in your eyes when you lean in to kiss her.

You let out a ‘ha!’ when you separate and leap up to grab the edge of the notebook with a solid yank.

“Draznit',” Yelena huffs.

“I’m totally reading your simp journal at our wedding,” you conclude, kissing her again.

“It is not a-” she stops herself. It’s not like you haven’t talked about getting married before. It’s often a topic brought up in passing, or just as a distant certainty. When you and Yelena moved in together three years ago, Natasha threatened your lives if you got married before her and Wanda, so the ‘serious’ topic has been on the backburner for a while.

But Natasha and Wanda are getting married in a few days.

And Yelena hasn’t even proposed yet.

“What? What’s wrong?” You ask, confused by the sudden dreamy look on your girlfriend’s face. “Babe?”

“Our wedding,” she murmurs, half to herself. You stare at her, waiting for further clarification. “You’re serious?”

“Well, you’ve had a simp journal about me since you were twelve, it’s not like I’m not gonna bring it up-”

“I meant about marrying me.” She almost wants to laugh at the look of bewilderment on your face. She doesn’t, though. She schools her expression into a serious one, determined to keep it so that you know this is a serious conversation between serious grownups.

She adores the way your eyes soften, the smile on your lips becoming tender as you lean up to kiss her. “I told you years ago, it doesn’t matter how, when, or where, as long as my forever is with you.”

How could she still doubt your feelings? She doesn’t. She never doubts anything about you. Yelena knows your mind, body, and soul as if the two of you were one and the same.

Yelena has never been good with words. Or speeches. Or big romantic gestures. That’s not to say she doesn’t try - she does! And there are times where her gestures and her words are extremely effective, but those are typically the times she manages to pull herself together last-minute just so she can execute her plans perfectly.

(In your honest opinion, though, all of her attempts are successful. Even the dorkier attempts like when she tried to kiss you at the top of the ferris wheel but it got stuck for an hour and you spent the entire time shivering from the cold.)

This probably takes the cake, though.

She’d been talking about it with Natasha for well over a year; practically since Natasha and Wanda got back from their honeymoon. (“Alright Natasha I have waited long enough and now your punishment is to help me propose.” It was a fair compromise and Natasha has long since accepted the fact that her baby sister is the biggest lovestruck nerd for you, so there wasn’t any resistance on her end.)

Starting with the two Build-A-Bears you’d gotten years ago together, she’d stuck some old pictures from your first years as a couple together as well as a note encouraging you to move to the backyard. Fannie approached next - helpfully released by a very pregnant Wanda - with a note about how your family has grown over the years (as well as a reminder of your soon-to-be-nephew). Finally, you entered the backyard - which was small anyway but seemed almost microscopic with the amount of flowers and fairylights she’d hung around the garden walls and your lonesome tree.

Right at the bottom of that tree was another Build-A-Bear - a simple one with an adorable little tuxedo and a note that said ‘press my paw!’. You pressed it, and a phrase rattles off in Russian.

“V lyuboye vremya, v lyubom meste, ya lyublyu tebya.” You smile, mentally checking over the phrase. ‘Anytime, anywhere, I love you.’ A throat clears behind you, and you turn to find Yelena on one knee, a box open in her hand with a dazzling ring sparkling from its center.

“I’m not good with speeches,” she starts, and you’re already pulling her into a kiss. She huffs a little, grinning when she pushes you away. “Hey! I’m kind of trying to propose here?!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, straightening back up so she can grasp your hand in hers. “I couldn’t help it. Continue.”

She makes a show of clearing her throat, which makes you smile even harder. “I’m not good with speeches. I have never been good with words around you.” You raise an eyebrow at her, as if in disbelief, but she continues: “The way I love you is beyond words. It’s beyond grand gestures, and silly rings, and expensive weddings. But I want all of them with you, because you are my person. My only person. I love you more than I have ever thought myself capable of loving another, and I want nothing more than to share that love with you forever.” She takes a deep breath to steady herself, her heart racing. It’s a rare, but adorable, sight to behold; a flustered Yelena, cheeks red and voice trembling a little with uncertainty. “So, (Y/N), will you marry me?”

You pull her into a kiss again; softer, this time, savoring the way her smile feels against yours.

“Yes, of course I��ll marry you,” you murmur against her lips, feeling the cool metal slip onto your finger. “And that wasn’t such a bad speech.”

“I may have asked Wanda for help.”

“I figured. Too many big words.”

“Ha ha, I get it, because I am your dumb jock.”

You chuckle, kissing her again. “And I’m gonna be your hot trophy wife, right?”

A bark interrupts her playful reply as Fannie comes bounding out of the house, followed by a wide-eyed Natasha.

“Uh, so, sorry to ruin this but- um. Incoming.” She announces, sounding panicked.

You and Yelena stare at her blankly.

“Incoming-?” Yelena echoes, confused, before you yank both her and yourself to your feet with surprising speed and strength.

“Incoming incoming?” You repeat and Natasha nods frantically. “Oh, fuck! Yelena, the baby!”

You’re never, ever going to drive for Natasha again.

She’s in the back seat with Wanda, trying to help her wife through the breathing exercises they’ve been going to classes for. Between this, she’s barking directions at you while Yelena tries to calm her down. A thirty minute trip is shaved down to an eighteen minute one; you expect several traffic tickets in the coming months.

Yelena makes the obligatory phone call to her parents while you use Wanda’s phone to call Pietro, who gets to the hospital quicker than you had despite living further. He’s bouncing with energy, as always.

After a few hours, Yelena has laid her head in your lap with a dazed look in her eyes.

“What’re you thinking about?” You ask, smoothing your fingers through her blonde hair.

She hums. “Have you ever thought about kids?”

You choke softly, cheeks going warm. “I-I don’t know. Have you?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You work with kids, Lena.”

“Yes, but… you know, in my line of work…” She sighs, closing her eyes.

She’s only been a social worker for two years, but the job is obviously not an easy one. It weighs on her, though she shoulders it well. There’s no doubt in your mind that she was suited for this work. (Teenagers, mostly. Ones who come from bad situations. Awful ones that make Yelena sick to her stomach, but she is so damn good with them. She loves how rewarding it is.)

“We could adopt,” you suggest.

“We could,” she agrees thoughtfully, then opens one of her eyes as she presses a kiss to your stomach. “But you’d also kind of look hot knocked up with my baby.”

“Jesus, Lena, we are in a hospital.” You wheeze and she winks. “And we’ve only just gotten engaged.”

“Fair point.” She chuckles. “What an engagement, huh?”

“Nat!” Pietro’s voice cuts your conversation short and you both eye the redhead as she approaches with a stunned expression. You aren’t worried, because she looks so goddamn dumbstruck it actually makes you laugh. “Thank God, these two are getting disgusting. How is my sister?”

“She’s great,” Natasha pauses, a huge grin spreading across her features. “And… so are the babies.”

“Babies?” You repeat, and Yelena sits up sharply.

“As in plural?” She asks.

“Twins?” Pietro adds, sounding excited.

Natasha nods, and your small party erupts into a loud cheer that catches way too much attention from the others in the waiting room. At least it’s to be expected in this section of the hospital; some even clap in solidarity or give polite grins.

“They’re beautiful,” Natasha breathes. “They’re both perfect.”

“So, what are we all sitting in here for?” Pietro presses. “Let’s see them!”

Natasha, of course, was right. They’re beautiful. And perfect.

Yelena’s head rests on your shoulder as you hold one of the twins, her arms wrapping around your waist. Her contented sigh makes you shiver, a soft hush having fallen upon the room as Wanda and Natasha cuddle and Pietro coos gently to the other baby.

“Maybe I’m thinking about it a little,” you tell Yelena quietly, and the blonde simply responds with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Yelena used to live her life in ‘maybe’s. Now, as the slow music plays and she leads you in your first dance together as a married couple, she realizes her life is nothing but ‘absolutely’ from here on out. She absolutely loves you. She absolutely loves the dog you share together. She absolutely loves the future you’re going to share.

Your lips find hers, your matching smiles making it hard for the kiss to last, only widening when the crowd roars around you.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” you sigh against her lips.

“I know,” she murmurs. (She does.)

Gen Tags! @nobody13 @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit @multi-images @women-am-i-right @fanboy7794 @simplysimping999 @ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood @jayreadingforfun314 @alotofpockets @avengerswriter4eva @007giuliastonem

Habits Tags! @mottergirl99

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova smut #holy fuck this took so fucking long besties my god #on the bright side #i made a tiktok acc to shitpost and its been fun #anyways #yeehaw!#fireflyglass #artapdarkstr #ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood

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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 3 years

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12 Days of Holiday Fics

Day Eight: How Yelena Stole Christmas

(A/N) I just had to add that i fucking knew you sluts would like that wanda fic lmfao im happy yall are enjoying these. this is light compared to the other yelena smut i’ve got stowed away, but it’s here nonetheless! happy holidays, hoes!

Rating: E!! Minors DNI!!!

Warnings: Light degradation; Top!Yelena; Bottom!R; dirty talk as per usual; rather tame compared to the wanda fic lmao

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: You try to convince your girlfriend to put on an ugly sweater. Yelena tries to convince you no sweater is better than any sweater.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | X | X | X |

“I am not putting that on.” Yelena repeats, for perhaps the millionth time, as her fingers grip the edge of your own sweater. You’ve been having this discussion for about thirty minutes now, if one could call it a discussion. In reality, the blonde has been distracting you from your reasoning with her teeth and tongue, and you’re becoming less and less inclined to remind her how late you already are to the party.

“It’s festive,” you tell her as her lips move to your neck, kissing the spot that makes you sigh. “Babe-”

“It’s hideous.”

“That’s the point of an ugly sweater party.”

“I’d rather have an anti-sweater party.” Her lips graze your collarbone as her fingers tug at your sweater. “Better yet, an anti-clothes party.”

“I’ll be sure to invite Tony to that one.” You snort with laughter, earning a displeased groan from Yelena.

“Absolutely not. I was thinking more of a private show.”

“You see me naked all the time, Lena.” You remind her. When she bites down this time, it’s hard enough to make you grunt, hips twitching involuntarily. “And being naked isn’t festive.”

“What, you want to be wrapped up?” Yelena’s hands decidedly bypass the sweater and cup your breasts over your bra. “I don’t think I’d mind that, actually.”

“The party-” you gasp when her fingers slip beneath your bra to toy with your nipples.

“I want to fuck you,” Yelena breathes, rolling her hips tantalizingly against yours. She’s damn near impossible to deny like this, her eyes dark with want and her expression open with adoration.

“Fine,” you relent, “but you’re putting the damn sweater on after. I don’t care how late we are, you’re wearing the fucking sweater.”

Yelena scoffs, one of her hands immediately darting down to unbutton your pants. “Can’t make it to the stupid party if you can’t walk, now can we?” When she finds the wetness already waiting for her, she shakes with laughter. “Why do you insist on being such a brat when you so clearly want this?”

You hide your grin by playfully biting her shoulder. “Why do you insist on being a brat when you know this party is going to be fun?”

“Because I like having you to myself.” Fingers push inside of you without warning. You arch into Yelena, a gasp of her name leaving your lips. When she leans back to look at you, a curtain of blonde hair falling around you, Yelena is smirking. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You’re dimly aware of her free hand ripping your sweater off of your body, her lips on your pulse point distractingly as effectively as her fingers curling just so.

“I think you like it when I have you to myself, too,” Yelena teases, examining the mark she’s left on your skin. “Considering you’re practically dripping.”

“The point of a quickie is the quick part.” You gripe, whining when her thrusts speed up.

“Oh yeah? And what makes you think this is going to be quick?”

“The party-”

“If you want to go to it without having an orgasm,” she slows her pace significantly, causing you to whimper pathetically. “That’s fine with me.”

“No,” you hiss. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“Really? Sounds like you want me to stop, which is fine.”

“I did not say that, please don’t stop.”

“I’m not convinced. Maybe you should beg me.”

You give her an incredulous expression. Her fingers are sliding in and out of you leisurely, like Yelena has all the time in the world to fuck you. (If she had it her way, she would.) “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding, detka?” She bends down to pull one of your nipples between her lips. You gasp at the sensation. “Go on. Be a good girl and beg me.”

You bite your tongue. Yelena’s eyes meet yours, a challenge shining in them. She fucks into you with renewed vigor, her fingers pressing against the spots she knows will drive you to the edge without throwing you off. The pressure against your clit is entirely gone, but the movement of her hand causes the heel of her palm to brush against it often enough to make you twitch under her.

“Always such a fucking brat,” she hisses against your other breast as she gives it equal attention as the first. “I should just tie you up. Show you who’s in charge. Remind you who you belong to.”

Her words cause you to moan. Yelena has always been the possessive type - it’s just part of who she is - but she’d never talked so openly about it like this.

“Of course you’d like that,” she continues, laughing at the way you tighten around her fingers. “I could fuck you in front of the entirety of the Avengers and you’d still beg for more. Such a needy little thing.”

Your fingers tangle themselves into her hair. “Fuck. Yelena, please.”

“Please what?” She mocks. “Be specific, detka.”

“Please let me cum,” you groan, body beginning to shake. You’re so close, you can feel your thighs trembling around her waist.”Please, Lena, I’m so close-”

“You’re close?” Yelena’s pace quickens until you’re seeing stars. She’s grunting with the effort of fucking you as deep and hard as possible. “You want to cum for me?”

“Yes, please,” you’ babble breathlessly, “Please baby, I-I need to cum. Please.”

You don’t know what it is exactly that makes Yelena finally give into what you both want. Your moans are difficult to keep quiet once she returns pressure to your clit, so after a few minutes, you don’t. She’s pulling you apart at the seams, and you’re so fucking eager to let her.

“Beg me again, malyshka,” Yelena encourages into your ear. “Beg me to let you cum. I love hearing you beg for me. Let everyone hear what a desperate slut you are for me.”

You do as she says without second-thought. You’re moaning so loudly your throat is starting to ache. Your orgasm rips through you hard and fast, leaving you shaking beneath the blonde’s still thrusting fingers.

“Lena,” you stutter softly, “I can’t-”

“You can,” she places a kiss to your forehead. “Just a little longer. Let me savor the feeling of this tight pussy around my fingers.”

You’re a mess already by the time she gives you a third orgasm. You can’t think straight, can barely feel your own legs until Yelena pulls out of you with that fucking smirk on her face.

“Still want to go to that stupid party?” She teases.

You keep your expression even, despite the way your body is folding underneath hers. “Yes. Obviously,” you answer, more out of spite than anything. Yelena laughs softly at the defiance in your face, leaning down to press her lips to yours fondly.

“Alright, detka, I’ll put on the damn sweater.”

(You’re only two hours late to the party, to be fair. Natasha stares at your sweaters for a long moment, her disappointment only deepening when she reads them. Yelena’s ‘Sorry I’m late, I was doing things’ and your ‘I’m things’ not really helping whatever bullshit excuse Yelena had pulled out of her ass to explain your lateness.

(Worth it.)

~ General Tags! ~

@nobody13 @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit @multi-images @women-am-i-right @fanboy7794 @simplysimping999 @ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood @jayreadingforfun314 @alotofpockets

//lemme know if you wanna be tagged uwu

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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 3 years

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12 Days of Holiday Fics

Day Three: Just Kiss Already!

(A/N) i have a horrible caffeine addiction and as im writing this rn i have had a gigantic cup of nitro coldbrew from starbucks. i just rlly wanted to be energized man idk and the barista looked horrified and now i feel like time is moving the way it did in that b99 episode where they drank all that coldbrew and if this kills me i want u all to know i only regret not getting the taylor swift pinup i’ve been wanting. also u can tell that i’m hyperfixating on yelena rn bc her fics in this miniseries are the longest a;lsdkf sorry?

Rating: G (General Audience)

Warnings: R and Yelena are sickeningly cute; Natasha and Tony are not good at this; Clint is dedicated; Some Avengers are Emotionally Damaged in this fic; cheesy holiday shit, basically

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Stark!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k (ah yes, favoritism)

Synopsis: Tony and Natasha are sick of seeing their sisters pine over one another. So, they come up with a genius plan to get you two together for the holidays.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Tony Stark is a man on the brink of sanity.

Typically, he isn’t one to pry (he is) and he’s definitely not nosey (yes, he is), but you and Yelena were driving him absolutely fucking nuts. It was truly baffling - mind boggling, one might say - how two people could be so obviously smitten with one another and be so goddamn oblivious about it at the same time.

You were his little sister, the product of an affair your father had with a mutant woman and thus resulting in your ability to manipulate technology. Of course the moment your secret identity as his sister was revealed thanks to one of SHEILD’s many enemies, SHIELD was quick to coerce you to join their ranks, much to Tony’s dismay.

It isn’t that you didn’t get along, per se. You were too damn similar, to be honest, but you’ve grown to love each other over the years. That being said, when Yelena joined the team, Tony knew immediately that you were interested in her. It surprised him, really, how quickly you two bonded. Neither of you were exactly the easiest to get along with, but together, you were like two peas in a pod.

So yes. Tony is on the verge of losing his mind. Seeing you, his little sister, pining after someone so equally interested in you was frustrating. So, he does the unthinkable:

He asks Natasha Romanoff for help.

“So, it’s pretty obvious that our sisters are totally in love, right?” He asks her, cornering her in the kitchen one fine morning. He’d woken up early as hell to have this conversation, he hoped Natasha would go along with what he had planned.

Natasha, to his surprise, laughs when she faces him. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

“That’s physically impossible. It’s painfully obvious.”

“Right?” She crosses her arms. “So, what are we gonna do about it?”

He grins. “You know what Romanoff? I take back everything I’ve ever said about you.”

“No, you don’t, but that’s okay, the sentiment was nice.”

The plan was simple: throw a massive holiday party and ensure there’s mistletoe hanging in every single doorway you and Yelena could possibly cross under. Who cares about the awkward interactions that could happen between now and that wonderful, blissful moment when you both finally pull your heads out of your asses.

Natasha will work on luring you towards any available doorway at any given time. She’s even recruited a few others on the plan: Wanda (naturally), Clint, and, most surprisingly, Steve (“What? I’m a sucker for love!”).

By the time ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ plays for the third time, you and Yelena have successfully ignored every single mistletoe you’ve passed under. You didn’t even notice. Too busy giggling with one another, too absorbed in your conversation. They’re getting desperate, now.

Natasha had tried making you look up at the doorway you were under with a, “You know, some holiday traditions are-” but she didn’t get to finish that thought before Yelena brought up her fighting poses again, effectively dissolving the conversation into a much-needed banter to defend Natasha’s honor.

When Steve actually pointed out the mistletoe, you and Yelena teased him about only wanting to get rid of his ‘decades long dry streak’ until he turned crimson and had to be consoled by Bucky.

Tony slipped away to turn one of the mistletoe into a tiny robot that would follow you and Yelena around, but at some point it had been stepped on. (Tony is a little mad about that one; he thought it was kinda cute.)

Clint is their last hope. He’s been firing arrows of mistletoe in places where it doesn’t even make sense to have mistletoe. Both ends of the bar have at least two hanging from the lights, even the doorway to the bathroom has some of the little plant in it.

“Is it just me,” you snuggle closer to Yelena’s side, her sweater feeling warmer than yours, “or are our siblings acting weird?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Yelena hums, watching as Natasha tries to discreetly look at the two of you on the couch from across the room. Her eyes dart upward, a smirk on her lips and an idea seemingly clicking in her mind. “I don’t like it.” Yelena concludes.

You snort, draining the last of your drink. “Let’s get another and head up?”

“Sure,” Yelena stands, reaching out to pick you up and you happily wrap your arms back around her once you’re on your feet again. She chuckles when you put more weight on her than you’d intended, nearly causing the both of you to stumble. “You sure you can handle another?”

“Shut up, you’re just really warm.” You huff. To prove your point, you slip one of your cold hands under her sweater to touch her stomach, causing the blonde to yelp and twist away from you.

“Not fair, I wasn’t ready!” Yelena laughs, taking your hand in both of her own. The warmth of her palms is wonderful against the cold chill. Instead of bickering, you just pull yourself back into her. She puffs out a laugh, guiding you to the bar. “Good to know I’m just your personal space heater.”

She starts pouring the drinks when you add, “And my bartender, too.”

Yelena playfully pushes you away. “And now you’ve lost both privileges.”

“Hey! No fair!” You whine, jutting your bottom lip out into a pout. “You play dirty, Belova.”

She winks at you, ready to retort when a hand taps your shoulder.

You turn to find Natasha, who is wearing a calm smile that, to you, is harmless but to Yelena only means trouble. “Hey, Nat! Tell Yelena to stop being a jerk.”

The redhead only chuckles. “Like that would stop her.”

“I’m not a jerk! How rude!” Yelena scoffs.

Natasha is making her own drink when she suddenly pauses and looks up as if in surprise. “Oh, would you look at that, (Y/N).”

You follow her gaze to what looks like a gigantic bush of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling over the entire bar. You frown in confusion. “I don’t remember putting that up there.”

“Well, y’know, holiday traditions…” She trails off suggestively.

To your other side, Yelena is rigid. So that’s what she was plotting, Yelena thinks to herself, glaring daggers at her older sister. Natasha doesn’t spare her a glance, keeping her eyes on you.

“Oh! Uh- I’m- flattered, Nat,” you stammer, looking to Yelena for help. “But-”

“I was here first.” The blonde growls, her hand on your cheek stunning you just long enough for her lips to press against yours. It’s over quicker than you could process it, effectively silencing you.

“Finally!” Somebody shouts from the crowd. You hear someone high-fiving someone else. Natasha looks weak with relief.

“What is your problem tonight?” Yelena asks, her arm firmly around your shoulders.

“We’ve been waiting for you two to just get it over with,” Natasha explains, rolling her eyes. “You guys are clearly into each other.”

“We’ve been dating for four months!” Yelena exclaims.

You lean into her, unable to hold back your laughter when you see the look of utter shock on Natasha’s face. Tony soon joins her, followed by Wanda, Clint, and Steve.

“Did I hear that right?” Tony asks, his tone accusatory. “Is my little sister dating someone without telling me about it?”

“We wanted to tell you,” you blush. “But we already acted like a couple anyway. We figured you just assumed we were already together.”

“And it was nice to keep it to ourselves,” Yelena adds. “Very nice, actually.”

“I’m wounded.” Tony puts his hand over his glowing chest. “Truly wounded.”

You take this time to look up at the rest of the ceiling. The whole damn thing is covered in fucking mistletoe. “Did you do all this to get us to kiss?”

“No.” They all say a little too quickly.

Yelena groans. “You guys are such dorks. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

After a moment of consideration, they all come to the same conclusion: “Nope.”

(You love your girlfriend.)

(You love your family.)

~Gen Tag List~

@nobody13 @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit @multi-images @women-am-i-right @fanboy7794 @simplysimping999 @ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood

//To be tagged, let me know if you want to be tagged for a specific series, character, or all my stuff!

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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 3 years

Text

Dawnbringer - Part Two

(A/N) i didn’t realize how slowly i’d make this move along oops this is looking a lot like 6-8 chapters what is wrong with me lmfao

read it on ao3

Rating: E (Explicit (eventually))

Warnings: Dark themes, supernatural elements, nothing severe in this chapter except that r experiences some stuff that makes her almost pass out. nothing too srs

Pairing: werewolf!Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.5k

Total Word Count: 12.8k

Synopsis: Your week gets weirder. Kate is trying her best. Darcy is (unapologetically) Darcy.

| part one | part two |

The dream always starts the same.

The cave is shielded from view by a glorious waterfall, the wet stones making the passage across the river deadly to those not aware of the specific stones that lead to this hidden sanctuary. Deep in the back of the cave, an underground spring opens to a still pool. The water here is so clear, and so fresh, you can look right through it.

The further you peer into the water, the more the stillness enthralls you. Images flicker in the water, blurry at first. Strange shapes like wolves, and a monster with bat wings and glowing red eyes. Just as you reach out to touch the images, the scene changes, and you are in the woods.

Fear. Sharp, true fear. The sort of primal fear that comes alive when your body is entirely in tune with its natural instincts. Your mind is heavy, full of voices. They’re calling your name, telling you to run, run far, run fast, get away.

Just as you stumble to your feet in an attempt to run, you step into another world. A dark, decrepit old house. Someone is waiting for you. You feel strangely calm. A wave of acceptance washes over you, and you know without an ounce of uncertainty that the one who waits for you will kill you.

You wake up, trembling and covered in sweat. You blindly fumble for your phone on the nightstand, flinching at the brightness of the screen as you squint at the time. Seven in the goddamn morning. You don’t have class for another four hours.

You groan to yourself and flop back against the pillows. You can’t get back to sleep, now. No way in hell.

This dream has been haunting you since Saturday. You figured your strange wolf companion had been the cause of it, but it had felt so real. While your dreams occasionally delve into the realm of ‘did I really dream that thing that just happened or is this just déjà vu?’ but this is another matter entirely. Those dreams that come true always had a certain quality to them; blurred, as if you were looking through something to experience them. You had felt this dream. Felt the earth under you, felt the evening air on your skin, the whitehot panic. It was real.

You scroll mindlessly through your phone for a few minutes in hopes of calming your mind enough to attempt sleep, before sighing and giving up on getting any rest. You go about your morning routine in a half-awake state, the images of the dream turning over the front of your mind constantly.

A sort of anxiety lingers, too, though it’s a faint feeling. Something is going to happen, something very important. You’re on the precipice of a cliff, and what awaits you at the bottom you can’t begin to imagine.

You step out of the shower and briefly glimpse at your image in the mirror and jump with surprise. It isn’t as though you were, like, incredibly out of shape or anything, but your body looks… different. Leaner. Like you’ve been hitting the gym, but haven’t quite developed the muscle tone yet.

It has to be your mind playing tricks on you. Your body changing like this over the course of a few days is literally impossible. You’re imagining things.

By the time you’ve gotten ready for the day, you still have two hours to kill. You attempt finishing some assignments, but your mind often wanders to your dream, or to Kate.

Kate.

It’s been two days since your date with the archer, and things seem to be going fine. You text constantly, and she’s continued to walk you home from your last class even when hers finish earlier, though you haven’t had a moment like your first night. You haven’t exactly defined what you are, it’s still a bit soon, but you can honestly see yourself being with Kate.

Which alarms you, because it’s been too long since you felt this way for someone. Two years, actually.

Carol was your first ‘real’ girlfriend, despite the fact that your relationship was only a handful of months. They were an intense few months, though; she’d swept you off your feet with her charm and puppydog behavior. But she was secretive, too, and wildly possessive. She often got jealous of your friendship with Darcy, though the two weren’t ever on bad terms. She was just too much, all at once, and when you thought you were ready to fall into her, she took a step back and left you hanging.

She’s moved on easily enough.

You’ve moved on, too, but the whirlwind of the romance had left you less than enthusiastic when it came to your love life. Until now.

With Carol, you were always scrambling behind. She’s a few years older, after all, and oftentimes felt more experienced with everything. It was overwhelming because you couldn’t catch up.

You don’t think it will be like that with Kate, though.

It’s strange, but there’s some connection you feel to her. An undeniable sensation, much like the lingering feelings from your dreams. Deeper than anything you’ve felt before, a shock straight through the very center of your being.

You shut your laptop with a frustrated groan. It’s barely been twenty minutes.

Your phone buzzes.

Kate morning! any plans after classes today?

A smile is already pulling at your face. Jesus. Darcy is right. You’re like a fourteen year old girl texting her first crush. It should probably be pathetic, but honestly, the thrill that runs through you every time she texts you makes it impossible to be embarrassed.

depends. i might be hanging out with a cute girl from the archery team

You can almost see the smile on her face, her dimples prominent. You haven’t even kissed yet and you’re daydreaming about how she’d respond to your texts. What would Darcy say right now? Nothing, she’d just make a whipping noise and laugh when it makes you protest.

Kate what a coincidence! this cute archer happens to have archery practice and wants to hangout with you after ;p

Of course you accept and swap a few texts until Darcy finally wakes up and calls you to meet up before classes. You must still have a dreamy, dorky look about you because Darcy is eyeing you strangely as you settle on a bench outside with your coffees in hand.

“What?” You ask after her silence begins to unnerve you. You hadn’t realized it before, but it’s damn bright out. And hot, too. Hotter than it should be, seeing as it’s late March and the temperature can be fickle.

“You look thinner,” Darcy remarks, eyeing your arms as you shrug off the hoodie you’d pulled on when you expected it to be chilly. “What is that?” She looks pointedly at the scar on your arm.

“Oh, I dunno,” you lie uneasily. “Dog attack, I’m pretty sure.”

“Dog attack? When?” She scoffs. “I don’t remember any dog attack.”

“Well, it wasn’t bad enough to tell you about.”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying-”

“(Y/N), Darcy!” Kate approaches with that familiar grin on her lips, your heart immediately skipping several beats at the sight of her. “Hey! I thought I’d run into you guys.”

“Well, we do attend the same university.” Darcy hums, narrowing her eyes at you. It’s clear she won’t drop this subject, but for now, she faces Kate with a kinder smile. “When’s your first class?”

“Fifteen minutes from now.” The archer shrugs, her hands shoving into the pockets of her jeans. Her crop top has the moon phases on it and ends high above her naval, exposing about six reasons for your brain and mouth to stop cooperating. “Another business class, so I’m not exactly eager.”

“Isn’t that your major?” Darcy snorts. “Shouldn’t it be, like, your thing?”

“Probably.” Kate motions to the spot beside you on the bench and you nod stupidly, trying to kick your brain back into function. This becomes an impossibility when she kisses your cheek, as if she’s done it a thousand times before. “But the classes are boring and full of men, unfortunately.”

Darcy, who had watched the exchange with an arched eyebrow and a shiteating smirk, snorts. “Sounds like my physics classes.”

“Women in STEM problems,” you agree, trying to sound normal even though your heart is literally pounding in your ears. You become suddenly aware of your scar. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but it feels different. You’re just aware of it.

“Hey, at least you get to learn about cute animals,” Kate interjects. “I’ve gotta do math, like, all day.”

“How are you a business major that doesn’t like math?” Darcy scoffs.

“For your information, I don’t get to learn about cute animals all day.” You defend. “I have to look at boring stuff too! And I do math.”

“Not well.” Darcy chuckles.

“Math is boring. I’d rather do stuff that gets my blood pumping.” Kate doesn’t even say it suggestively, but it still sends your mind right into the gutter.

“Skydive instructor?” You suggest in hopes of not giving away your thoughts.

“Nah, heights aren’t my thing.” Kate wrinkles her nose cutely. “I was thinking more in the realm of crime fighting vigilante.”

“Superhero is not a viable goal, but I respect it.” Darcy chirps.

“Don’t listen to her,” you roll your eyes at Darcy before grinning sweetly at Kate. “I think you could be a superhero, Kate.”

Her cheeks fill with a brilliant blush. It’s the first time you’ve ever made her blush. It makes you swell with pride that quickly melts into affection as her lips stretch into a grin. “Oh, you have no idea.”

- - -

You don’t really know what you expected archery practice to look like, but, like, holy shit does Kate look hot. The gloves are weirdly hot, even the protective guards are hot. Literally everything about what is happening right now is attractive. Kate’s arms, back, and shoulders have muscles you’ve never even thought of, and now all you can think about is all the other ways they can be used and you need to fucking chill. This is like, date two and you’re itching to jump this poor girl’s bones before you’ve even kissed her.

Once practice is over, Kate strides up to you bouncing with energy. She’s achingly adorable, the way her head cocks to the side as she approaches you, her ponytail swinging behind her.

“You alright? You look a little flushed.” Kate teases, shouldering her bow and offering her hand out to yours.

You take it easily, despite the growing blush. “I just… really like archery.”

“Right.” Kate chuckles, guiding you towards the parking lot. “That’s why you’re drooling, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” you groan, squeezing her hand tighter and marveling at how well yours fits in hers. “I didn’t realize you had a car.”

“I don’t,” Kate clears her throat. “I’ve got a bike, actually.”

“A bicycle?”

“Nope.”

“Holy shit, tell me you ride a motorcycle and you’re an archer.” You huff in disbelief. “Jesus, Bishop, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“I’m gonna take that as a good thing.” Kate pulls you towards a sleek purple motorcycle. You really only recognize the brand, Yamaha, but it’s gorgeous regardless and it spikes a bit of anxiety in you.

“I’ve never ridden one before,” you admit shyly as Kate removes a matching helmet from the handlebars.

“Well, you know what they say,” Kate offers the helmet out to you and you take it with a questioning look. “You never forget your first ride.” This comes out low and husky, a teasing smirk on her lips growing as heat rises to your cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me.” You repeat quietly, earning a soft laugh.

“I really hope that’s not true ‘cause I like having you around.”

You pull the helmet on and Kate sits on the bike before guiding you onto the seat behind her. It takes a bit of adjustment for her to get her bow in a comfortable position, but soon enough you find your place flush against her back with your arms around her middle.

“Just hold on tight, ‘kay? I’ll be careful.” Kate warns gently before the bike roars to life.

You yelp a little when it starts moving, your grip around Kate tightening instinctively. This causes your hands to slip under her shirt a little, the bare skin of her stomach muscles contracting under your touch. Oh Jesus Fucking Christ. You can’t exactly let go and move your hands.

The wind picks up as Kate turns onto the main road, her dark hair, still safely in its ponytail, whips out behind her like a streak of black ink. A flash of a memory comes to the forefront of your mind; your wolf companion and her own sleek, black fur.

A breathless laugh leaves your lips as an elated sensation washes over you. It feels good. The steady thrum of the engine, the wind on your overheated skin, even the speed feels nice. You can see why Kate would ride this everyday, if her earlier statement about ‘blood-pumping’ activities is anything to go by.

You pull up to a townhouse a good fifteen minutes away, though you think it might be a longer distance seeing as Kate went rather fast. You hadn’t realized your adrenaline had kicked in until the bike comes to a stop and you still feel jittery.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Kate’s voice is raised, still recovering from the wind and the engine. “But you can take your hands out of my shirt, now.”

You yank your hands away immediately. “Oh! Sorry, that was- I mean, I didn’t mean to, like-”

Kate laughs as she dismounts, her grip on the bike keeping it easily upright with you on it. It doesn’t really strike you as odd at first, but you don’t think that many people can do that. Especially with how steady she’s holding it with one hand, the other helping you off of the vehicle.

Your hands are slightly trembling as you fumble to remove the helmet, and after another soft laugh, Kate kicks up the kickstand to the motorcycle and helps you. She sets the offending object on the handlebars and grabs both of your hands with her own.

“I just wanted to drop my archery stuff off and change. Is that okay? You don’t have to come inside if-” she starts, and you squeeze her hands with your own to cut her rambling short.

“It’s fine, Kate, I don’t mind.” At this, she grins and your heart does something funny in your chest. “But what, exactly, are we doing?”

“Well, there’s a cute pizza place I’ve ordered from a few times.” Kate leads you up the porch and unlocks the door. She opens it wide for you with a smile. “After you, beautiful.”

You blush as you pass her. “What a gentlewoman.”

“Always.” She closes the door. The entry hall has a staircase right beside what appears to be a bathroom, the living room just visible from the front door. Kate takes the first few steps. “You can wait down here, if you want. I won’t be long.”

You nod, watching her disappear upstairs. Most of the houses in this area come furnished, as most of its inhabitants happen to be college students. You can typically recognize which furniture was left behind, and which the new occupants have brought with them. Kate, despite living here for what must at least be a week or so, seems to only have what was left behind.

You wonder if it has anything to do with her falling out with her mom.

The table by the door is definitely old. There are cigarette burns in the wood, but Kate doesn’t smoke. It has a bowl on top, where Kate threw her keys haphazardly, and a lamp. A funny little stone creature is sitting beside the bowl, and upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a crudely carved wolf with its head raised high.

Cute.

You look at the bare walls, wondering if Kate had ANY pictures she’d brought with her.

A sudden sadness rises in you. Did Kate really have to leave her whole life behind to come here? It must be so lonely.

The front door opens and an older man steps in with a redheaded woman in tow.

The moment they spot you, all three of you freeze.

Kate mentioned a roommate, but you didn’t think he was a grown man.

Alarms start ringing in your head, but before you can really settle into panic, the redheaded woman starts to laugh.

Oh, I cannot wait to see how this plays out.” She says brightly, to which the older man grunts.

“Nothing is playing out.” He tells her in a scolding tone, earning a scoff and an eye roll. He looks to you, a smile pulling at his lips that seems a bit strained. “Hi, you must be (Y/N).”

“Y-you’re… Clint, right?” You ask, eyeing the staircase as footsteps begin to thunder down the hall at what you’re pretty sure is an inhuman speed but then again, Kate is athletic and what do you know about running?

“Please do not scare her off!” Kate exclaims as she hurries down the stairs. “We were just leaving-”

“No, please, I want to get to know the girl that you-” the redhead stars, but Clint clears his throat sharply.

“C’mon, Natasha, leave the poor kids alone and let ‘em go on their date.”

You and Kate are both blushing. The brunette reaches for your hand and starts for the door.

“N-nice meeting you,” you stammer politely with an awkward wave.

Natasha returns your wave with a wide smirk, but Clint is already moving further into the house. Kate shuts the door and sighs.

“Sorry. He’s… well, it’s a complicated story.”

“A grown man living in a house with a college student? Yeah, sounds complicated.” You try to keep your tone light, but your discomfort must be evident because Kate winces.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, it’s… kind of hard to get into. It’s nothing weird, though. He helped me a lot with what went down with my mom. He’s basically my best friend.” She pauses. “But don’t tell him I said that. He hates when I say that.”

“So… he’s basically… a father figure?” You offer, looking at your joined hands.

Kate nods. “Yeah, I mean- yeah, if you wanna bring up the daddy issues, yeah.”

You snort and nudge your shoulder against hers. “All superheroes have daddy issues.”

“Is that a requirement? Like Disney Princesses and animal companions?”

“Yes, actually.”

“I really wanna know where your qualifications come from.” She’s led you to a car parked at the very edge of the driveway, a beat up old Cadillac.

“I’m my own qualifications, Bishop.”

She opens the door for you again and you make your way to the pizza shop in pleasant conversation. Her new shirt is still a crop top, apparently she’d noticed your admiring earlier, with a band logo you don’t recognize on the front. Kate also opens the door at the pizzeria, and you take your seats at an open window.

Everything goes fine, until a sudden stabbing pain hits your forehead. You wince, the lights in the pizzeria suddenly blinding. You think Kate says your name, but she sounds very, very far away.

You are surrounded by mist.

The moon is full and unblinking. You’re in pain.

You fall to your knees. The forest floor is cold and damp; uncomfortable against your jeans. Some unseen force brings your head backward; you cannot look away as the moon is engulfed in a terrifying pitch darkness. This is not a lunar eclipse. The chill the shadow brings across the world penetrates you to the very core.

You’re running out of time.

You have to stop it.

Hands on your cheeks startle you from whatever the hell that was. It takes several moments for Kate’s face to come into view, the darkness clinging to your vision like a heavy fog. Your head feels like it’s too full, like something is trying to wedge itself inside. You groan, suddenly dizzy.

Kate’s palms are hot. Like, really hot. She turns her hand over and presses it to your forehead, a deep frown lining her features.

“Hey, can you hear me? (Y/N)?” Her voice edges hysteria, but she’s obviously trying not to make a scene by being too loud.

You blink once, twice, and then the trembling begins. Something is inside of your head.

Leave. Come to the woods. It’s not quite a voice that says this, but you feel the words in your mind. Your stomach churns violently, head spinning.

“Kate,” it comes out clumsily, like your lips aren’t your own. “Kate, something-” Leave. Your hands come up helplessly to the sides of your head in an attempt to block out the violating sensation invading your senses. “Something’s- I can’t…”

You fall forward, eyes rolling into the back of your head as darkness consumes you. Kate catches you easily, panic spiking in her. She’s only ever seen Wanda use her mind-controlling spells a handful of times before, but there was always that flash of red in their eyes. Your look had scared the living shit out of her. You looked vacant for a moment, and then something dark. Something evil. Kate’s own heightened senses picked up on it the second you snapped out of your first reverie.

Someone was trying to control your mind.

Only you, apparently, seem to be immune. That unsettles her further. If there were any doubts left in her mind that you were the one, they’re gone now. You are indisputably linked to the prophecy.

She politely requests a cold rag from one of the workers, who rush to help. It takes maybe five minutes for you to come around enough for Kate to guide you back to her car. Immune to mind control, but apparently not without its consequences. You must have put up a hell of a fight.

She knows the way to your apartment like the back of her own hand. Not that she, like, frequented the area or anything. Not at all. You come to every so often, just to mumble apologies that Kate dissuades with a hand on your knee or over your own.

Your head is splitting with pain. It rings with it like a bell. An empty cathedral. You feel like you’re on death’s door.

You’re too weak to stand, so Kate pulls you into her arms bridal-style and carries you into the complex. Your mumbled floor number and apartment door are followed by a lazy rattling of keys as you hand them over to her. How the hell she manages to open the door so easily while cradling you is beyond you.

Kate sets you on your couch, fingers smoothing through your hair as she kneels until she’s eye-level with you.

“Do you want some water, baby?” She asks softly.

Your eyes flutter shut. “Please.”

She kisses your forehead before moving to your kitchen. After a few failed attempts at finding your cups, you yell out the appropriate cabinet and she returns quickly with the glass in hand.

Your hands are barely shaking when you take it from her, but a surge of energy rushes through you when your fingertips brush. You almost drop the glass entirely, but both of you seem to be aware of this at the same time and cover the bottom with both of your hands.

You laugh a little at yourselves and you clear your throat before downing the glass. You feel completely overheated, but the water helps immensely. Kate opens the windows, as if sensing your discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” you say for the millionth time as your headache, shockingly, begins to subside as the evening air rolls in. “I totally ruined our date.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Kate says this with an odd expression that quickly changes to one of fondness as she joins you on the couch. “I promise. Are you feeling okay? How’s your head?”

“Better.” You frown a little. “It was… so weird. I was fine one second, and then…” You shake your head to yourself and sigh.

“And then…?” Kate presses.

You meet her blue gaze. She’s looking at you intently, as if trying to predict what you will tell her. “I don’t know. These… pictures came up in my head. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding totally crazy.”

“Nothing you tell me will sound crazy.” Kate says seriously, facing you entirely on the couch. You mirror her position, one leg tucked beneath the other once you kick off your shoes.

“It was weird. I mean, I have these really intense dreams all the time, and it sorta felt like that. Except I was awake.” You explain in a rush. “Sorry, I’m probably just… nervous. I swear, I’m not, like-”

“(Y/N),” she covers your knee with her hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I promise, you're not scaring me away or anything.”

You relax at that with a breath of relief. “I really hope not ‘cause I really like having you around.”

Kate has that lazy smile on her face again, so at ease it makes your heart flutter. A howl sounds in the distance, bringing chills along your arms. Kate jumps and looks towards the window, her lips drawing into a thin, tight line.

“I hear them all the time,” you explain, voice suddenly falling to a whisper as the note lingers through the night. “The wolves, I mean.”

Kate lets out an uneasy laugh, eyes returning to yours. “There aren’t any wolves in Pennsylvania.”

You frown. “Well that’s one hell of a coyote, then.”

Kate pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, eyebrows pulling together thoughtfully. Her blue eyes search yours, for what you don’t know. She seems to find it, because now she’s practically glowing with soft affection. Her eyes shine with it, blue and clear and honest. Kate’s eyes are always so expressive; it’s one of your favorite qualities about her. (A list that only piles the longer you spend time with her.)

There’s a sharp knock at your door. You and Kate jump apart. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been leaning into each other. Fuckssake.

You groan a little and Kate laughs.

“You gonna answer that or should I?” She asks as you plant your face into a throw pillow. You grumble incoherently into the material and the archer kisses your temple before standing to answer your door. “Darcy! What a lovely surprise.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the exact same thing.” From the sounds of it, Darcy moved right past Kate to enter the apartment. “(Y/N), I need a favor- oh, wow, you’re both still clothed. That’s disappointing.”

You lift your head from the pillow with raised eyebrows. “You still came in expecting me to be naked?”

She shrugs. “I’ve seen you naked before. Besides, I’m pretty sure beefcake over there could’ve stopped me if she thought there’d be something I shouldn’t see in here.” With this, Darcy adjusts her glasses and juts her bottom lip out into a pout. You already know what’s coming next. Something extremely unfun. “I need you to come out and look at the planets with me so I don’t freeze my ass off by myself.”

You groan dramatically, flopping back against the couch as Kate joins you. “I thought you were gonna go with that one kid! Ian? Alex?”

“Isaac.” Darcy corrects with a bitter snort. “Yeah, no, I found out the truck he drives is the one with the American flag and bald eagle on it. That’s legit three red flags in one.”

You sigh. “When and where?”

“There’s this really nice field just outside the university park, totally pitch black out there.”

“I hate it already.” You look to Kate questioningly. “Do you wanna join us? Could be fun.”

Kate glances at the windows again and sighs reluctantly. “I should head home. Clint is probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”

You try not to pout. “Okay. I’ll text you later?”

“Of course.” Kate pauses, as if considering something, then leans in to kiss your cheek before standing up. She looks at Darcy. “Take care of her for me.”

“Been doing it for years, beefcake.” Darcy assures. “You can count on me.”

When Kate leaves, Darcy gives you The Look. The Look is one you are intimately familiar with, a single expression full of thousands of words. You try not to squirm.

“So, you and Kate, huh?” She teases as you get up with a stretch.

“We’ve only hungout a few times and we haven’t kissed yet.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Which, by the way, thanks for the interruption.”

Her expression falls. “Aw, man, did I clam jam you?” You nod and she groans. “Damn, sorry. You really haven’t kissed yet?”

“We almost have! A few times!” You excuse lamely. “But shit always gets in the way.”

“I’ve been with girls before, (Y/N), but I’ve never, ever, had this much tension with a woman without kissing her at least once.” Darcy shakes her head in disapproval. “I’m not upset, just disappointed-”

You throw a pillow at her and she giggles when it hits her. “What, you want me to just jump on her the next time I see her?”

“I mean, at this point, kind of.”

You roll your eyes despite the grin pulling at corners of your mouth. “That’s not realistic, but I like that you’re supportive.”

“Bitch, I’m captain of this ship. Now get your jacket, let’s go look at some space shit!”

- - -

“So,” Darcy adjusts her telescope. “Seriously, how is it going with Kate? Besides the whole kissing debacle.”

You hum thoughtfully as you look up at the sky. This field has a great view of the stars; ‘just outside’ of the park really meant, ‘random trail I found in the woods’, but so far you haven’t met any serial killers so you’re rather hopeful that this will be a normal one.

“I really like her,” you say at last, eyes settling on the sliver of the waning moon. You had to turn off your flashlights for Darcy to do this, so you’re left suspended in pitch darkness with nothing but a smiling moon to illuminate your surroundings. “It’s just so easy being around her. I dunno. Like, with Carol, I was always on my toes. But with Kate, I’m just totally at ease. Like I’ve known her for years.”

Darcy snorts a little. “That’s cheesy. But it’s kind of adorable. I’m happy for you. Seriously. Carol fucked you up.”

“I think loving people just fucks you up.” You shrug. “It’s not her fault.”

“For breaking up with you on your birthday?”

You wince. “Yeah, well, that part sucked in particular.”

“And now she tries to be all chummy with me in-”

“Wait, what? Carol is trying to be chummy with you?”

“Yes! Can you believe it? She came up to me during lab and asked me how I’m doing. How you’re doing.” She scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“W-what did you say…?” You wheeze, feeling breathless. The breakup was what turned Darcy entirely against the blonde.

“I told her I was fantastic and that you were happily moving on.” Darcy responds flatly, leaning away from her telescope to look at you over her shoulder. “Then she said, ‘okay’ and walked away. What kind of sicko does that?”

You hum, frowning to yourself. “I was never able to figure her out when we were dating. What makes you think I can do it now?”

“Fair point.”

Silence enfolds you again, but it doesn’t last long. A chorus of howls fills the night and Darcy visibly jumps back from her equipment.

“Holy shit. Correct me if I’m wrong, but there aren’t supposed to be wolves out here, right? Like, just coyotes and deer and shit?” Darcy yelps, voice going tight.

You snort. “It’s fine, Darce, they’re far away and they won’t bother us.”

“That’s, like, a lot of wolves and you are way too chill about it for someone who had a mysterious dog attack.”

Your stomach drops. You knew she’d find a way to spring this on you. “I-”

A branch splits from the darkness. You and Darcy immediately huddle together, arms looping with one another as you collectively hold your breaths.

Darcy shakily grabs for the flashlight on the ground, pulling you awkwardly with her. Once it’s flicked on, she shines it into the woods. A woman with sandy brown hair is crouching there, and the second the light shines on her, she makes a terrifying hissing sound that immediately reminds you of the man from the other night.

“Darcy, run!” You shout, yanking her with you towards the trail. With your heart pounding, you realize you don’t really need the moonlight to guide you. In fact, you can see rather clearly in the swelling shade of the trees.

Darcy stumbles behind you. “Jesus, fuck, when the hell did you get so fast?”

The light is flickering wildly as Darcy tries to keep up, and suddenly you slam into something hard like stone. Another woman, this one with short black hair, is standing right in front of you.

Before you and Darcy can even scream, something lunges out of the woods and throws the woman into a tree. Darcy’s grip turns iron as she holds herself closer to you. A familiar dark shape is tearing into the woman. Your wolf.

You stare, unable to move, until Darcy shoves you forward.

“She’s coming! C’mon!”

You look over your shoulder and find the brunette running towards you with amazing speed. Clouds engulf the moon, and suddenly you’re in that strange vision again. Only this isn’t the vision, the moon is not being swallowed by something dark and terrible, but the panic that shoots through you is just as sharp.

You reach out and something cold spreads from the very center of your being. Your forehead burns, and suddenly you’re looking at yourself. Your eyes are glowing a strange bluish white, and with alarm you realize you are inside of the monster attacking you.

It realizes, too.

There's horrible anger. Vile hatred. You’ve never felt such powerful hate before. It tries to shove you out, but strangely, you’re more powerful than it is. You force it to the ground, the hatred perhaps leaking into you. It’s easy to turn it against the creature. Easy to use it to make it hurt.

A wail rips through the air. The monster is in horrible pain.

The wolf has stopped ripping apart the other one and is now approaching you with cautious eyes. Darcy is yelling your name, shaking your body, begging you to move, to run. But you don’t want to run.

No.

You’re tired of running.

You want this thing to suffer.

It screeches, another wave of pain shooting through its body. It twists into the dirt, pressing its face into the cold packed Earth. Its agony is only an echo for you, just a ringing in the back of your mind.

There’s a silvery light, and suddenly-

“(Y/N).” It’s Kate. She’s crouching in front of the monster, hands covered in dirt and leaves stuck in her hair.

The shock forces you right out of the creature and back into your body.

You stumble backwards into Darcy, who falls hard beneath you. You feel her go limp and a sickening twist of nausea rolls through you. Then the dizziness comes. Irresistibly powerful, you can only roll off of Darcy and curl into yourself to keep from vomiting. Something wet spills from your nose. Blood? You can’t tell. It’s too dark. Where is the moon?

“God,” Kate breathes, in awe or horror you can’t be sure. “Fuck. Okay. Shit.”

“Kate.” You blink blearily at her, trying hard to focus through the darkness. “Kate, you- you were-”

“I’m here.” She murmurs, rushing to your side. Only now do you realize that the creature that attacked you has gone completely silent. No more writhing. Just total silence. “I’m here. I have you. You’re okay.”

Your head is in her lap. She keeps one hand sweeping through your hair while the other moves to check Darcy. Her closeness brings a wave of relief through you. You feel safe. Safe.

The wolf.

You try to sit up and look around for her, but she’s gone.

Kate eases you back down into her lap when you falter, her hand on your shoulder too firm to fight. “Stop fussing around. Let me take care of you.”

You sigh and shut your eyes as the moon slips through the cloud that covered it. Even though its light will soon be gone from the night sky, the new moon approaching, what sliver it provides seems to reach your skin in the way that sunlight might. Only cooler, somehow, as though a fine mist has settled over you.

“Darcy is okay.” Kate tells you. “She definitely hit her head pretty hard. Kinda convenient.”

“Wait,” your weak mind tries to wrap itself around what had just happened. “Wait, Kate, what was-”

“Shh,” she shakes her head. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Soon. But not here.”

You frown. “Wait… what do you mean ‘everything’? What’s going on?”

“I-”

A huge gray wolf slips out of the forest. You jump, moving too quickly from Kate’s lap. The sudden motion makes you dizzy again. Kate pulls you into her arms before you can topple over.

A silver light envelopes the wolf, and suddenly Clint is standing there.

Okay. Clearly, you had also hit your head, and this is all some strange dream.

“(Y/N), baby, I need you to stay with me a few minutes longer.” Kate’s voice is right next to your ear, an anchor in the swelling storm. “Can you do that for me?”

“He- he just-”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Jesus fuck.” Clint shakes his head at something a few feet away. The monster, probably. “You said there were two?”

“The other’s taken care of.” Kate assures.

“Kate?” You twist a little to look at her. “What-”

“You still haven’t told her?” Clint scoffs.

“Told me what?” You ask.

“We haven’t even kissed, Clint!” Kate huffs. “I’m not gonna spring my condition on her before-”

“What the fuck is going on?” You nearly shout, causing Clint to flinch and Kate to go rigid.

You look between them expectantly before scoffing to yourself and pushing away from the archer. You stumble when you stand, but Kate’s on her feet in seconds and steadying you. You slap her hands away and glare up at her.

“No. Enough of the bullshit, Kate. You’re gonna tell me what the hell you’re talking about right now or I swear to all that is holy I will freak the fuck out.” You hiss venomously.

Kate looks taken aback, her expression faltering between guilt and pain. “I’m sorry! I-I really, really don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what Kate?”

“This is extremely awkward.” Clint clears his throat.

“Shut up!” You and Kate both bark at him.

“Okay. I’m just gonna do it. J-just don’t freak out. Please?” Kate pouts and you have half a mind to smack her.

“Do. What.”

Kate takes a deep breath and takes a step back. On the exhale, a silver light envelopes her body, much like what had happened to Clint, and then-

A black wolf stands in her place. Not just any black wolf. The black wolf. You know that piercing blue gaze anywhere. Eyes far too intelligent for such a ferocious, wild animal. Eyes too familiar to you.

“Kate?” You whisper hoarsely.

The wolf’s head rises and falls in a nod.

“Holy fuck.” You almost fall over again, but her giant head nudges you back upright. “Holy shit- that- that night, it was- it was you?”

“(Y/N), now is not the time to freak out over this.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder forces you to stay rooted to your spot. “Your friend was knocked out. We should get her somewhere safe.”

“You’re-” you look at him, then at the wolf as it turns back into Kate with a flash of light. “You’re- what are you? Werewolves?”

“Kinda. I mean, sort of?” Kate looks to Clint as he releases you and lifts Darcy over his shoulder with such ease she may as well be a pillow.

“Yes. Long story short, yes.” He glares at Kate. “Fury won’t like that this one’s involved.”

“She had a blow to the head! We can say she hit her telescope or-”

“I am not lying to my best friend.” You protest immediately.

Clint grunts. “This is ridiculous. She-”

“No. Whatever happens next, if I’m gonna trust you - despite you apparently lying to me the entirety of our relationship-” the slip of tongue catches you and Kate off guard as Clint begins walking along the trail, back towards the field. You falter, then continue with a rush of breath, “-if I’m gonna trust you, I’m not betraying my best friend in the process.”

Kate’s guilty look reminds you very sharply of the lupine form she apparently possesses. It’s actually unfair how cute she is. It’s totally unfair. None of this is fair.

“I promise. Full honesty from here on out, one-hundred percent. When we explain everything to you, it’ll-”

“Hold on, there’s more?” You gape at her. “You’re a werewolf, he’s a werewolf, what’s next? Vampires? Witches? Demons?” Kate grimaces in silence and you groan. “No fucking way. Seriously, Kate?”

“Well- what did you think was attacking you?!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up for emphasis.

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know! Stone people?” The second it comes out, you regret it.

Kate’s somewhat defensive expression cracks into laughter. “S-stone people?! Oh, baby-”

“Shut up!” Your cheeks are flaming hot. “And you’re not out of the doghouse yet, by the way.” You wince. “Sorry. Was that… like, offensive?”

Kate chuckles. “If I say it was, am I out of the figurative doghouse?”

“No. But nice try.”

She sighs with a nod. “That’s fair. C’mon, before Clint comes back on four legs instead of two to tear my head off.”

You hesitate for only a moment. Whatever happens next, your entire world is about to change. Hell, it changed that night the wolf - Kate - saved you from the vampire that attacked you.

An owl hooting sends you leaping for Kate’s hand. She laughs softly and holds you tightly as she leads you in the direction that Clint had gone. You pause when you reach the spot the vampire had been.

What remains is ash. Nothing but ash.

“What did I do?” You ask, voice shaking.

Kate sighs. “Honestly, I don’t know. The only people who do know are the ones we’re trying to take you to.”

You frown. “Is this a kidnapping?”

“No.”

“So, I can leave any time I want?”

“Yes, but I recommend not leaving alone at least.”

You pull the inside of your cheek between your teeth. It seems like you don’t exactly have a choice, here, but there’s still a sincerity in Kate you can’t find it in yourself to distrust. Sure, hiding the fact that one was a werewolf is kind of an enormous secret, but at the same time, can you really blame her?

You stop suddenly. “Wait, Kate, you scratched me.”

She blushes. “Yeah. I did. Sorry.”

“No, what does that mean? Am I about to be a werewolf, too?”

Her guilty look is enough of an answer and you nearly collapse. Kate wraps an arm around your waist and eases you against her side. “I’m sorry! I really, really didn’t mean to. It was stupid of me to even try and attack him, I knew he was too close to you.”

“Kate, I don’t know how to be a-”

“Nobody does! Not anymore, I mean. It’s- look, I promise, everything will be explained. Can you please just trust me?”

She faces you, now, both hands grasping yours. Even in the darkness, her eyes are a shining deep blue. You’d love to drown in those eyes. Suffocate yourself in her, even as mad at her as you are.

“Okay,” your voice has fallen to a whisper. “I trust you, Kate.”

Her eyes glance down at your lips. Your heart picks up its pace. Finally.

“What part of ‘knocked out friend’ do you not understand?” Clint’s voice yanks you and Kate apart, mere inches away from relief. “For someone so adamant about not lying to her about your girlfriend being a werewolf, you sure seem intent on letting her brain get damaged.”

You blush furiously as you and Kate guiltily pick up your pace.

(Goddammit. This week really couldn’t get any weirder.)

~ Tags! ~

General: @nobody13 @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit @multi-images @women-am-i-right @fanboy7794 @simplysimping999 @ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood @jayreadingforfun314 @alotofpockets @avengerswriter4eva @007giu

This fic: @wandanatvoid

if you wanna be tagged, lemme know! xoxo

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop x you #i also might post a vampire yelena oneshot at somepoint in the next few days #i have been a very busy gal #just spilling with bullshit to put to words #good for me? good for me. yea #fireflyglass #artapdarkstr #ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood #007giu

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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 3 years

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Dawnbringer - Part One

(A/N) um, idk what to really say other than i wanted a werewolf kate fic and then i wrote one so here’s the first chapter alskfdj probably won’t be long, 4-6 chapters max just beefy and dripping with plot

read it on ao3

Rating: E (Explicit eventually, rn it’s fine)

Warnings: Dark Themes; Supernatural Creatures; Werewolf Tropes; Vague Prophecies; Legions of the Undead; Vampiric Overlords; Sapphic Pining; Gay Panic; Darcy Lewis being a fucking g; R’s parents had a nasty divorce and they’re not great ppl but they love R so at least we dont have entirely fucked up parents in this fic lmfao; that’s it for now but this will eventually have p0rn as usual so let’s just get that warning out there now

Pairing: Werewolf!Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.3k

Total Word Count: 5.3k (for now)

Synopsis: After an uneventful party, your night becomes a whole lot more eventful when you meet an enormous blue-eyed wolf.

| Part One | Part Two |

You don’t typically attend the outrageous weekend parties that your friends enjoy frequenting, but this week has been rough to say the least. With finals rapidly approaching, the tests and assignments thrust upon you for your final year in college have piled up to an alarming proportion. If the stress of that weren’t enough to kill you, during what few hours of sleep you’re able to steal, you’re restless. Strange dreams that you can’t remember upon waking up haunt your evenings, leaving you uneasy in the morning and anxious throughout the day.

So, really, you just came to the party for the free booze and hopefully force yourself into having some fun. It didn’t last long, though. Your friends ditched you, and you ended up spending the last hour and a half on a couch in the corner of the dingy frat basement. You only really gained the energy to leave when some guy started talking to you about NFTs.

The waning half moon bathes the campus in her hooded gaze, illuminating the sidewalk better than the flickering yellow street lamps. The evening air is blissful against your overheated skin, the party apparently being warmer than you thought it was. It’s quiet as you make your way towards your apartment complex, which, thankfully, isn’t very far from your university.

Cedar and maple trees line the street, and the further you walk towards your apartment, the thicker their numbers grow. Joined by sycamore and oak, the forest that resides directly across from your building is typically alive with insects and frogs this late at night.

Only halfway to your apartment do you realize that the forest is silent and still as death.

Something primal kicks in, pushing away all remnants of the hard seltzers you’d nursed over the course of the party. Your senses come alive in a way they never have before, your ears straining to pick up on any noise and the darkness seeming brighter. You can even smell more clearly as the adrenaline pumps into your veins.

A low growl spills from the darkness. Terror grips you, your entire body seizing as the instinct to fight and the instinct to flee begin to go at war within your body and mind. In the end, your fearful state gives the creature plenty of time to slip from the shadows of the trees.

An enormous black wolf, bigger than any you have ever seen before, approaches you with its head lowered and hackles raised. Piercing blue eyes seem to look right through you as its lips curl back to reveal long, sharp teeth.

You make peace with death in the milliseconds between the wolf lunging at you and the moment you realize it’s running right past you. Dazed and petrified, you can only stumble until you’re turned around, watching the creature pounce on another person. A man.

The man lets out a furious snarl that the wolf meets with a snarl of its own. To your amazement, even as the wolf rips into the man’s flesh, no blood spills. Not a single drop. In fact, the skin seems to turn to stone the second the wolf manages to tear off an arm.

The man shoves the wolf away with such strength you gasp. The wolf goes flying into the woods, and in the blink of an eye the man is on you. You cry out in fear, his only arm coming up to grip your throat and tilt your head viciously to the side.

It occurs to you that perhaps the wolf had been protecting you. You call out for it, “Come back! Help!” and though you don’t expect a wild animal to obey you, to your amazement, the black wolf comes bounding out of the tree line again. This time, there’s a new fury in its blue gaze.

It stops short when it realizes the grip the man has on you, teeth bared in a threatening growl.

“You can’t stop us, mutt,” the man hisses, his hands ice cold on your skin. “She’s coming with me.”

You squirm hard against him, fear coursing through your body and making you tremble uncontrollably. His strength is alarming, his body feeling hard as a statue as you fight against it. “W-what do you want from me? Let me go!”

“Quiet!” The man snaps, squeezing your throat so hard you nearly blackout. “Once we awaken her blood, she’ll bring forth our master and-”

The wolf lunges. You faintly register a stinging in your shoulder when the man is ripped away from you. You’re thrown to the ground, body finally giving into the uncontrollable trembles that have overtaken it. You can do nothing but cower and cover your head as screams and vicious growls fill the air. What sounds like hard stone being split open cracks into the night, the following silence ringing with your terror.

Warm breath on your shoulder makes you whimper and flinch. A wet nose nudges against your skin, a tongue soothing over throbbing flesh. You’ve been wounded. You hadn’t quite picked up on it right away, but as you force your eyes open you’re met with the sight of a bloodied shoulder, what looks to be claw marks from when the wolf had gone for the man.

You jump in alarm when you realize the wolf is right there, right next to you, and it had licked your shoulder. The creature gives a low whine, blue eyes meeting yours apologetically. It strikes you how intelligent those eyes are, as if there were some sort of humanistic understanding in them.

You let out a shaky breath, turning over so you can sit up and face the animal. It doesn’t move, though it watches you with those strange eyes intently. With slightly shaking fingers, you reach out and stroke the creature’s neck. Its shining black fur is softer than you thought it would be, the beast calmer than you’ve ever heard of any wild wolf being.

This has to be some sort of dream.

You’ve had strange dreams all your life, and this has to be one of them.

A disbelieving laugh escapes you, and the wolf tilts its head as if confused.

“I’ve never had a wolf save me in my dreams before,” you say, because you may as well talk to the creature if this is all a dream. Because wolves can’t understand humans, because this wolf is too big to be a wolf. It doesn’t answer, as one should expect from a wolf. “Usually the monsters get me.”

At this, another low whine slips from it. You pet it absentmindedly, wondering when you’ll wake up. Typically, when you realize you’re dreaming again, you wake right back up. This doesn’t seem to be the case tonight, however. And that wound on your arm is smarting.

“This… this isn’t a dream, is it?” You ask.

The wolf shakes its head. You stare at it in astonishment. There it is, confirmation that this wolf understands you and that this isn’t a dream.

You stand on shaking legs, scoffing. The wolf moves as if to help you stand, then hesitates.

“I can’t… do this right now, I’m sorry. Creepy stone men that try to kill me and wolves that can understand me are enough crazy for one night, thank you very much.”

The wolf stares at you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was smiling.

“Well, thanks for the save,” you clear your throat and look at your shoulder with a wince. “I guess I’ll never forget you.”

The wolf whines again when you make to leave. You sigh. “What, do you want to walk me home or something?” The beast steps forward. “Okay,” you nod. “Alright, fine. Um. Cool. I hope this doesn’t mean you expect any food because I’m literally broke and don’t have any… wolf food… in my apartment.”

The wolf snorts. Okay, yeah, you’re losing your mind.

You start towards the building again, feeling far safer with this gigantic monster at your side than you have ever felt walking down a dark street in the middle of the night. It keeps to the side of the road that the woods border, the shadows of the trees cloaking its massive form as it easily keeps pace with you with its long legs.

“So, if I’m really going crazy,” you say slowly, “and you really understand me… are you able to tell me what the hell that thing was back there?”

The wolf looks at you curiously, but shakes its head.

“Okay. Um.” You breathe through puckered lips thoughtfully. “Are you a boy?” It shakes its head ‘no’. “A girl?” A nod. The action looks so strange on the animal, you’re again caught off-guard. “Oh. Okay. Cool. Girls looking out for girls. I respect it.” The wolf snorts again, a low rumble that almost sounds like laughter coming from its chest.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never talked to a six-foot-tall wolf before. I don’t know what to ask you about.” You huff a little, though a smile is pulling at your lips. You see your apartment complex clearly, now, the parking lot illuminating the night like a beacon of safety. The wolf begins to slow her pace, so you follow suit and eye her curiously.

“So… whatever that guy was,” you begin quietly. “Should I… expect more of them?”

The wolf hesitates before giving a slow, cautious nod.

“Then… should I expect you, too?”

When the wolf nods again, she wags her tail.

“Okay,” you release a shuddering breath. “Okay, cool. Well, I’ll… see you around, then?”

The wolf steps towards you, lowering her head. You pet her between her ears, feeling far more relaxed now than you had been before. The pain in your shoulder is starting to get to you, now, but the bleeding stopped quicker than you thought it would. The wolf eyes your wound when you remove your palm from her head, a flash of worry in her gaze.

“It’s fine,” you assure her, gesturing to the scratch. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’ve had worse.”

You can’t quite shake the concern that rises in you when the wolf only stares solemnly at you in response. You give a final wave goodbye to your odd companion before crossing the dead street. Once you reach the entrance, a beautiful sound catches your attention. Ominous and haunting, it fills the night with one of nature’s most ancient and haunting melodies: the call of the wolf.

- - -

“You hear about the transfer from Columbia?” Darcy asks casually as she takes the desk next to yours.

“How the hell would I hear about a transfer from Columbia?” You scoff.

“She was at the party on Saturday.” She shrugs, pulling their bottom lip between her teeth. “She’s totally your type, I’m surprised you didn’t notice her.”

“And what, pray tell, is my type?” You eye your friend with a suspicious snort.

You and Darcy Lewis have been best friends since fifth grade, when your mom’s first holistic phase lead to an insanely restrictive diet and you promised Darcy your eternal friendship in exchange for some of her animal crackers. Needless to say, you have no plans on breaking that promise any time soon.

Darcy wasn’t much of a partygoer, either, but finals have had her stressed, too, and once she gets a few shots in her Darcy becomes the life of the party. You hadn’t told her about your encounter with the wolf, as you hadn’t seen the animal since. The wound had nearly been gone yesterday and by today all that remained of it was a sliver of a scar that looked as though it had been there forever.

Still, the encounter haunts the edges of your mind.

“Your type,” Darcy begins slowly, catching your attention again. “Is what you were bullied by in high school. The hot jocks.”

Your jaw drops. “What? That’s not even remotely true.”

“Remember Carol two years ago?”

You groan. “That’s not fair, she’s broken like twenty hearts since then.”

“Right. And what about back in high school, that cheerleader? Hailee?”

“I’m pretty sure we agreed to never speak her name again.”

“My point,” the brunette smacks her hands on the desk conclusively. “Is that your type are hot girls with big guns and nice buns.”

“I wish I could unhear that sentence.”

“Don’t even lie, that was-”

“Hi, can I sit here?” A voice behind you pulls your attention away from Darcy and suddenly you’re tongue tied. A girl with long, dark hair is standing at the desk beside you, eyebrow raising questioningly when you don’t give an immediate response.

“Whoa, what a coincidence!” Darcy’s voice is too chipper, you immediately know you’ve been caught in your gay panic. “Kate Bishop, right? From Columbia?” Well, shit.

“Yep,” Kate tucks one of her hands bashfully into the pocket of her varsity jacket while the other drops her bag on the floor beneath the desk. She slides into the seat and gives a lazy smile that shows off her dimples. Holy shit. “What’s the coincidence? Were you talking about me or something?”

Her icy blue eyes cast between you and Darcy before landing on you. A shock of familiarity washes over you, though you can’t quite place the feeling.

“We were, actually,” Darcy says at the same time as you say, “No, we weren’t.”

Kate laughs, her rich voice almost a growl as she says, “That’s comforting. Nothing bad, I hope?” Again, her gaze shifts to you in a strange way, as if silently communicating a question that you can’t pick up on.

“Not at all.” Darcy assures. “I was just telling (Y/N) about how you got your scholarship for archery. (Y/N)’s got a bit of a thing for the athletic arts.”

You cringe. “Darce-”

“Athletic arts?” Kate repeats with a snort. “I’ve never heard that one before.” She gives you a sly grin. “Does your friend always try to set you up like this?”

“Pretty much,” you nod, blushing.

“Hey!” Darcy protests.

Mercifully, the professor shows up and requests silence from the class.

As the lecture goes on, you often find yourself looking at Kate. Sometimes, you think you sense her looking at you, too, but when you try and catch her she’s casually looking ahead as if she hadn’t moved at all.

You can’t shake that odd tugging in the back of your mind. That sense of familiarity. Maybe you had seen her at the party, and forgotten? That couldn’t be possible. Your gay little mind wouldn’t let you forget her.

As much as you hated to admit it, Darcy was right. Kate Bishop is certainly your type. She takes off her purple and black jacket halfway through class, her tank top exposing strong biceps. You knew archery worked out like, all of your arm and shoulder muscles, but like, wow. Beyond that, Kate’s softer features are so disarmingly beautiful you have to force yourself to pay attention to the class you pay for the longer you look at her.

Finally, as the lecture comes to an end and the chatter of your peers once again fills the room, you allow yourself to get a good look at the archer. Only to find that Kate is looking right back at you, a smile on her lips.

“Can I get your number?” She asks.

A blush is back on your cheeks. “Y-yeah, totally.”

The brunette gives you her phone and you try to pretend your hands aren’t shaking as you type your number into a new contact. She’s already gathered her things by the time you give the phone back to her.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/N),” she says with a wink, stunning you further into silence as she turns to leave.

“You need to trust me more.” Darcy states cheekily.

“Shut up.” You huff.

What a weird fucking week.

- - -

Unknown hey :) it’s kate well obviously it’s me, you probably dont give out your number often unless you do in which case, hi, it’s kate from womens studies

You chuckle at the texts, earning a knowing glance from Darcy. She looks too cocky for her own good, so you stick your tongue out at her.

hey :) i was wondering when you’d finally text me

God, you hope that wasn’t too desperate. It’s not like you were waiting for your phone to buzz or anything. Not at all. It’s not like any low sound during the past class sent you grabbing for your phone. Not even a little.

Kate haha good to know im on your mind i wanted to ask when your last class was?

Your pulse quickens. Holy shit, is she asking you out? Already? You’ve barely recovered from your first encounter!

5. asking a girl out after just meeting her huh?

Too bold?

“Jesus, you look like a fourteen year old.” Darcy snorts, trying to look over your shoulder at your screen. You tuck the object close to your chest and scowl at her.

“What, you try to set me up and then get salty when it works?” You accuse.

She grins. “So it is Kate that’s got you all heart-eyed.”

“Shut up,” you whine and she cackles.

Kate well when i see what i like i tend to get it ;) can i treat you to a coffee?

“You really should be thanking me for setting you up with your dream girl.” Darcy hums. “Maybe throw me a party. Have a cake with my face on it. Oh, and of course, I need a ten minute dedication at your wedding-”

“She’s asking me out for one coffee,” you roll your eyes and blush as you text an affirmative to Kate. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right, sure it doesn’t. Like your texts aren’t nauseating.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you have a speech at the wedding but I’m limiting you to eight minutes because my parents are gonna spend their two minutes talking about the divorce.”

“Well it did turn their only child gay.”

You share her laughter and wipe away a tear that doesn’t exist. You have no idea where you’d be without Darcy.

- - -

Kate looks anxious when you approach, but it appears to melt the moment she sees you as a lazy smile stretches across her face. She greets you with a one-armed hug that feels strangely natural, and doesn’t remove it once she starts towards the coffee shop at the edge of campus.

“You’re from New York?” You ask, hoping you don’t sound as breathless as you feel with her unusually warm pressed against yours.

“I am,” Kate confirms. “What about you? You always live around the State College area?”

“Nah. Arizona, actually. When my parents split, dad moved to Oregon and mom moved us out here. I was eleven, but honestly I think I like the coast better. It’s so peaceful up here.”

Kate momentarily stiffens but covers it easily by saying, “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s kinda why I came here, too.”

“Why did you transfer? Penn State is a good school, but it’s no Columbia.”

“No, it’s not,” Kate chuckles. “But I needed to get away from the city.”

The coffee shop soon comes into view and Kate separates from you to hold the door open.

“What a gentlewoman,” you tease softly as she rejoins your side, though she doesn’t put her arm around you this time, much to your dismay.

“For you? Always.” Kate winks playfully as she eyes the menu. “So, you’re the expert here. What’s good?”

“Can’t go wrong with a hot chocolate,” you suggest. “Or a mocha, if coffee’s your thing. Which it probably is, I mean, you asked me to come to a coffee shop-”

Kate laughs at your rambling and places a hand on your lower back. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Um- yeah, sorry, it’s been a while since I… dated.” You excuse lamely, to which the archer only hums with a smirk.

“Well, if it helps, I’m nervous around you, too.”

You scoff. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m saying it to make you feel better and ‘cause it’s true.” Kate’s expression becomes thoughtful as her blue gaze searches yours. “You make me very nervous, (Y/N).”

The way she says it sends a shiver down your spine.

Kate orders two hot chocolates as you stand in stunned silence.

While the drinks are being made, she makes light conversation about the classes she’s taken on and how different the student body seems here. It’s a bit odd, how quickly she goes from that bouncing energetic goofball to seductress and back again in a span of minutes. It’s insanely hot, though, and thankfully you haven’t spotted any red flags yet.

When your drinks are finished, you take your respective seats on one of many lounge chairs littering the small, cozy space.

She tells you a little bit about her past; she comes from money and went to private schools and is happy to make jokes about her privileged upbringing. She did martial arts throughout her childhood and picked up archery very young. She was going to take over her mom’s company, but for some vague reason or another, that doesn’t appear to be in Kate’s future so she’s finishing her degree and figuring it out from there.

You allow yourself to open up about your own childhood, sharing ridiculous stories and schemes you went through with Darcy. You talk about your parents divorce lightly, figuring that a deeper dive is a third or fourth date topic, and about your ambition to become an animal rehabilitator like your father. Kate relates to you on the admiration of your father, though your own is more distant than hers had been and not just in the literal sense.

By the time you finish your hot chocolates, they’re lukewarm and the sun has long since set. Kate offers to walk you home, and you have no thoughts in your mind to deny her. It’s amazing, how easily conversation flows between you as if you’d known each other for years. It makes your heart soar and your stomach erupt with butterflies.

As you come upon your apartment complex, Kate faces you with a timid smile.

“I really like hanging out with you, (Y/N),” she says, eyeing where your arms are still intertwined.

“Yeah, I like hanging out with you, too,” you respond breathily, blinking up at her.

Kate’s blue eyes glimpse down at your lips, her warm breath filling the small distance between you. For a wonderful moment, you wonder if she’s going to lean in and kiss you.

But the sharp ring of her cellphone fills the air and breaks the moment. She releases your arm with an apologetic smile that melts the moment she looks at the screen. She curses under her breath.

“Sorry, this- it’s important. I’ll text you later?”

You nod, mind still fogged from your almost-kiss. “Y-yeah, sure. Okay.”

“Hey.” Kate answers her phone as you open the entrance of your building. “Yeah. Sorry. I lost track of time…”

Once you’re home safely, you close your front door with a sigh. You shrug off your jacket and set it on the back of a dining chair before heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. You absentmindedly touch the scar on your shoulder, moving your arm awkwardly so that you can properly look at the mark.

Strangely, it feels alive tonight. Not sore, or necessarily tender. But tingly.

A distant howl makes you jump.

Another fact you’ve learned since the party that hasn’t left your mind:

There are no wild wolves in Pennsylvania.

- - -

The last sliver of the moon squints through the forest, casting dark shadows in the deepest wilds that mankind rarely ventures through. Here, it is easy to lose oneself in the ancient history of the land; the cradling pines and rough mountain sides that seem to have shaped life itself into being.

For years, tales of strange creatures roaming these untamed lands have passed from storyteller to storyteller. Giant wolves that seem to vanish in the blink of an eye, ghostly howls that foretell one’s own death. These fables have existed long before the European settlers arrived, for these lands have always held a natural power.

Tonight, the evening air is full of the nocturnal songs of the forest. Owls out on the hunt, frogs and insects calling out into the night. And, of course, the low howl of one of mankind’s most ancient and terrible enemies: the wolf.

A large, black body weaves through the trees and lifts its head to respond to the call. Its speed goes beyond that of an average wolf, its enormous body nearly six feet tall as its long limbs lope over the foliage.

The wolf comes to a skidding halt once a familiar cabin comes into view. Another wolf waits for her there, his dark gray muzzle lowering the instant he sees her.

You’re late, he reminds through their packbond, the growl in his chest nonthreatening.

The black wolf lowers her head, her ears flattening slightly. I was-

We know where you’ve been, a third wolf, smaller in size but still bigger than a normal wolf, approaches from around the cabin with a wagging tail. Her coat is a lighter gray with streaks of gold and red like autumn leaves. Fury is… not happy.

Blue eyes avert to the ground as the black wolf paws at the dirt. It was just one coffee… it doesn’t have to mean anything…

Good luck telling him that, Bishop, the blonde wolf teases, lowering her tail again.

Enough teasing, Yelena, a red wolf joins the small group. Fury is getting more and more impatient by the second. I think Wanda is going to strangle him.

Kate sighs as the sisters begin to lead the way around the cabin. The first wolf, the gray one, nudges her side softly with his muzzle.

I know you feel drawn to her, he offers a sympathetic whine. But she’s too important. If you let yourself be distracted, we could lose everything.

Around the back of the cabin, and the rest of their pack are now visible. A pack such as this is most unusual, especially for werewolves who, by nature, are family creatures. Not an ounce of blood is shared between these wolves, though. Just a strong sense of loyalty and nobility that binds them together, stronger than any blood ties.

The remaining wolves would be Fury, the unspoken leader of their pack who stands tall at the head of the circle with his scarred, red-brown muzzle raised high. His singular eye settles on Kate briefly before taking in the rest of the circle. Then there’s Bruce, whose own wolf form towers over the rest, gray as soot with smatters of black on his paws. Thor, the second biggest, looks almost radiant under the moonlight with his golden pelt. Lastly, there’s Carol, who stands beside Fury with a coat as silver as starlight, her eyes landing on Kate with unreadable emotions lingering through the bond.

The rest, though not werewolves, are Tony, an alchemist, Wanda, a witch, Vision, a golem, and Sam and Bucky, vampires. There’s a thick tension among the circle as Wanda begins to chant a concealment spell that will keep outside forces from listening to their conversations. Next, she goes around the circle and murmurs strange words.

The wolves shift uncomfortably at the sense of magic in the air. Steve and Bucky exchange grimaces; though Wanda has long since learned how to keep her spells from affecting them, particularly the wards, it doesn’t stop them from feeling a heavy pressure on their chests. They’re not supposed to enter these spells, but Wanda is a particularly powerful witch.

At last, her final spell opens the circles’ minds to one another, allowing outsiders a glimpse into the strong mental bond that links the werewolves to one another.

Friends, warriors, Fury begins with a low growl, the legend, I fear, is true. The Long Night is at our doorstep, and the Dawnbringer must become our priority. Her protection is the protection of life itself.

There’s a stirring among the wolves. Tony scoffs.

“Legends,” he mutters scornfully. “Prophecies. I’ve seen and heard plenty of those, thank you very much.”

You have witnessed many, this is true, Fury concedes politely, but have they not been for the betterment of mankind? Have you not watched as light conquers darkness, over and over?

“Good and evil are transparent concepts,” the alchemist shrugs. “Completely subjective.”

And in what world is a night that doesn’t end come off as ‘subjectively’ evil? Snorts Clint, equal parts amused and appalled.

“The world of the vampires.” Tony says flatly, nodding in the direction of Steve and Bucky. “The world of night hunters, like wolves.” He nods to the wolves. “The world of shadows.”

But this is our world, Natasha protests. Our natural world. The prophecy states that the Long Night will turn nature against nature. As an alchemist, surely you can appeal to that, Stark?

The older man crosses his arms stubbornly, but doesn’t argue. In truth, Tony Stark lost his love for the natural world centuries ago, around the same time as his immortality had lost its shine. One grows tired of monotony, and sometimes chaos can be a little fun.

But Natasha is right. He is an alchemist. A scientist.

Chaos is dangerous. If the prophecy is to be taken literal, then yes, an eternal night that turns nature against itself would be catastrophic.

Kate already knows her, Yelena pipes up, causing the black wolf to grunt.

Oh, we know, Fury’s eye lands on Kate. She tries not to cower. Have you shown them?

It was one coffee-

That’s not what I’m referring to. Fury flashes the image that Kate had shown them nights before, under the waning halfmoon, when she had scratched you during the attack.

The pack comes alive with anxiety, all at once. This had been just between Kate, Fury, and Clint. Now that it’s out in the open, they’re all looking at Kate with a variety of emotions from anger to annoyance to fear to wonder.

It was an accident! Kate whimpers.

Accident or not, there’s no taking back what’s been done. Fury lifts his gray muzzle to the sky, noting the clouds beginning to pass over the moon. She was meant to choose, but if fate has chosen for her, then so be it. On the next full moon, she will be one of us, whether or not she is prepared to face her destiny.

Kate’s stomach turns guiltily. She’s already doomed you to a fate you know nothing about.

Until then, Fury continues, keep close to her. You remember what your first time was like. Bring her to us when she knows what you are.

Kate nods. Yes, of course. Got it.

She misses the jealous look Carol sends her.

And Kate, Fury’s chest rumbles with another growl. Time is not on our side, but try not to... frighten the girl.

When the gathering is dismissed, and the spells officially closed, Kate and Clint begin their trek towards the town home they share. Whenever asked, Clint tells strangers he’s Kate’s father in favor of answering some awkward prying questions. In truth, Clint is the closest to a father Kate has had in a long, long time.

We don’t care if you’re interested in her like that, Clint abruptly interrupts their quiet running.

But you were right. I shouldn’t distract her from her destiny. Kate whines softly.

Maybe people have two destinies.

Kate finds it hard to argue when Clint is so goddamn reasonable.

One thing was for certain: the future is closing its teeth around them. The prophecy is real and it’s true, and Kate has put an unwitting victim into fate’s unkind hands.

>>> next <<<<

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