Gay Ass Fanfics

“Y/N, come on. I’m sor-”

You’d spun on your heel abruptly, coming face to face with the red head.

“You are not. Do not lie to me, Natalia.” You spat. “I trusted you. I gave you chance after chance after goddamn chance. I should have known this would happen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, her arms crossing.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Your shoulders sagged with your confession. “I let the flirting slide. I let the top secret ‘work’ stuff slide. I let you get away with everything, Natasha. I can’t anymore.”

“Y/N!”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. If you were, you’d have told me the truth.”

“I couldn’t-”

“Yes, you could have!” You all but shouted at her, not allowing her to get more than a word in. “You told Steve! You told Bucky! Sam! Tony! Hell, you even told Scott! Why am I the last to know every damn time? Do you know how humiliating this is for me?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” you looked away, knowing you would crumple under the sad eyes she gave you. 

“Then you shouldn’t have fucked her.” You deadpanned, finally meeting her eyes. She looked taken aback. “I trusted you. You promised me it was just flirting and it was one time.”

Natasha’s mouth opened and closed several times, trying to find something to say. Trying to find some way to make you forgive her as you had so many times before.

“You promised. And I’m the idiot who believed you.” You shook your head, trying to clear your eyes of unshed tears. “I believed you. Every time. Every late night ‘mission’ that you had to do with her. Every one of Stark’s parties I couldn’t attend because you had to be there with her. I believed every stupid lie you told me!”

“Some of those were missions.” She insisted. 

“I’m sure they were.” You scoffed.

“It didn’t mean anything, okay? She was a mistake.” Natasha told you as she had several times already.

“Then why did you keep going back?” You asked incredulously. How many ridiculous excuses was she going to use? “Why did you tell Steve you were falling for her?”

Her face dropped.

“Yeah, how did you think I found out, Natasha?” A part of you felt smug at the redness blossoming up her neck in embarrassment. “You told Steve you loved her. You told Sam you felt like the luckiest girl on earth. You bragged to Scott, of all people. And you thought it wouldn’t get back to me?”

“I swear it’ll never happen again, okay? Just please don’t go.” She stepped between you and the door.

“Get out of my way.” You tell her with a sudden calmness. 

“Wait-”

“Now.” 

“Do you want some space?” She asked, “I can give you space! Take a few days and then I’ll come see you or I can call you or-”

“Don’t call. I will not answer.” You tell her firmly. “Don’t show up to my apartment, I will not let you in. Do not show up at my work, I will have you escorted out.”

“Y/N, please.” She grabbed your arm, stopping you from listing all the ways she’d gotten you to forgive her in the past. You recoiled as if she’d burned you.

“No.” You laughed bitterly. “I would have stood by your side for the rest of our lives. I would have loved you forever, don’t you get that?” 

“What’s stopping you?” Natasha asked, her fear showing on her face. “We’ve worked through rough patches before.”

“What's stopping me is a pretty little brunette named Wanda, whose bed you decided to slip into.” You tried to contain your feelings. “How many times have I forgiven you? How many times have I let you hurt me and pretended everything was fine? I won’t do it anymore. I can’t!”

“I’m sorry, baby,” She was begging you to stay. The look in your eyes told her that if you walked out that door now, you would never return. At least, not for her.

“Sorry, did she make this for you?” You asked. You had a habit to just take things from the older redhead.

Instead of a response, Wanda rolled her eyes before making her way out of the kitchen.

“Did I do something?” You asked Natasha, who was still staring at the coffee you’d stolen from her. 

“I don’t know, she’s probably just filled with teen angst still.” Natasha grumbled, grabbing a new mug.

“C’mon, Tash, that’s not really fair.” You told her. “She just lost everything. And she’s not a teen.” 

“We’ve all lost everything, Y/N.” Natasha deadpans. “Twenty-two is basically a teenager, by the way.”

“Cut her some slack,” You laughed. “She’s probably still getting used to this place.”

“Whatever,” Natasha dismissed. “Steal my coffee again, and you’re gonna lose a finger.”

“You say that every time.” You laugh.

---------

“Buck, you ready to go?” You asked him, walking out to the common area. You were dressed in your signature black leather jacket and ripped up skinny jeans. Your staple, in a sense.

“Yeah, let me grab a jacket.” He clapped you on the back as he walked past.

“You’re going out again?” Wanda’s voice nearly startled you. She was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

“Uh, yeah?” Your response came out as more of a question.

“Figures.” She rolled her eyes, turning to head back in the direction of her room.

“Okay, why is she so upset with me?” You ask Bucky when after she leaves.

“How should I know?” He laughs. “Come on, we better go.”

It was a long night, trying to make amends for all of your crimes was difficult. Bucky understood, he’d been through pretty much the same thing. But that didn’t make it any easier for you to relive the awful things you’d done to people. 

Especially when you arrived at the house of a frail old woman, who’s only son you’d ruthlessly murdered. He was her caretaker. So, Bucky helped you to do small things for her, paying for a nurse and grocery shopping. But tonight, the nurse looked at you with sadness in her eyes. 

“She doesn’t have much time left.” She told you. “She keeps asking for him. I don’t know what to tell her anymore.”

The poor old woman had a multitude of illnesses, the most prominent being her dementia. So, hearing the old woman calling out for her dead son…. You weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself.

“It’s my fault, Buck.” Your voice broke on the walk back home. “He’s the one thing she can remember and he’s fucking dead because of me.”

Bucky knew better than to interrupt. You didn’t see reason in times like these.

“I’m a monster.” You continued. “No matter how many people I help, it can’t erase the past!”

“No, you can’t.” He told you, knocking you out of your rant. “You can’t erase the past. That’s why you’re trying to make up for it. Paying for an old woman’s healthcare won’t bring back her son, you’re right. But it counts for something.”

“I feel awful.” You tell him. “I can’t get them out of my head, sometimes. Does it ever go away?”

“I don’t know.” His somber tone reminds you that he, too, is struggling with this. 

“You can go back,” you clear your throat, “I’m going to take a walk.”

“You sure? It’s late.”

“Yeah, I won’t be long.”

Bucky squeezes your shoulder comfortingly before walking off in the direction of the tower. 

You’re not sure how much longer you were out. But eventually, the crisp air was drying the tears on your cheeks and you knew it was time to get back to the tower. There was no point wallowing in guilt in the middle of the city.

“Back so soon?” Wanda’s bitter words stopped you in your tracks. She was standing by the sink, glass of water in hand.

“Not-” Your voice cracked. “Not tonight, okay?”

Wanda’s face falls briefly, her mouth opening like she wanted to ask what was wrong. But you were out of the kitchen before she could speak.

-------

You rolled out of bed late the next morning, cursing under your breath as you searched for some clothes to throw on.

“You’re late,” Natasha walked into your room, extra coffee in hand.

“I’m aware.” You threw your hair up into a ponytail, throwing on running shorts while Nat lounged on your bed.

“Clint’s already waiting for you.” She informed, picking up a book from your bedside table.

“Better not keep him waiting then, huh?” You mutter, taking the mug of coffee as you made your way out of the room. 

“Bucky said you were out later than normal last night.” She said, giving you a pointed look.

“Natasha,” you warned. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Her eyes are soft, face full of genuine concern.

“Yeah, Tash, I know.” You give her a small smile to soothe any worries.

“It’s about time you showed up!” Clint teased, tossing you a baton. Natasha squeezed your shoulder briefly before walking over to where Wanda was waiting for her on another mat. 

The morning passed slowly, Clint getting the better of you more than not. You were tired and slow. The older man teased you relentlessly, poking fun and putting you on your ass.

But, at some point, as you picked up your leg to kick Clint in the side, you forgot to hold back your strength, sending the blond man flying to the side.

“Oh my god!” You heard Wanda exclaim as you ran over to Clint.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, Hawk,” you rushed out. “I wasn’t paying attention! I’ve just been so tired. Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay.” He chuckled, groaning a little as he moved to stand up. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, offering a hand to help him up.

“Yeah, kid, I’ve handled worse.” He limped off the mat, leaving you to roll your eyes at his term of endearment. You were easily fifty years older than the man, but you still looked to be in your early twenties, which Clint loved to call attention to.

You heard a light scoff and glanced over to see Wanda glaring in your direction.

“Okay, what’s up?” You ask her. The attitude was getting old.

“You’re lucky this was just training! What if this was a mission?” She all but exploded on you. “You value a night out at some shitty club with who knows how many girls more than the safety of your team!”

“Leave her alone, Maximoff.” Natasha cut in from nearby.

“Why should I?” Wanda spits. “She clearly doesn’t care about anyone but herself!”

Natasha steps between the two of you, the only thing stopping her from defending your honor being your hand on her shoulder and a gentle “Tasha” as you pull her away from the brunette.

“You’re right, Wanda.” You nod. “There’s no excuse for causing harm to a teammate. That’s on me.”

Wanda simply rolls her eyes bitterly and leaves, muttering something about checking on Clint.

“Why do you let her believe that?” Natasha asks, exasperated.

“She’s right, Tash, there’s no excuse for hurting a member of the team.” You tell her.

“There’s a reason you’re out so late most nights.” The shorter woman reminds you.

 “And Wanda doesn’t need to know.” You respond in the same tone. “Besides, she’s just being protective of Clint. You know how close they’ve gotten since Sokovia.”

Natasha just shook her head.

-------

“You’re seriously going out again?” Wanda’s jaw is clenched as she stands, arms crossed, by the door.

“Uh,” You stutter, “Yeah?”

“Unbelievable.” She storms off.

“She’s kinda cute when she's angry like that.” You joke with Bucky.

“You like her, don't you?” Bucky elbows you lightly.

“What?”

“That’s why you won’t tell her where you go.” He nods, putting it together in his head as he speaks. “You like her.”

“Hey, man, I don’t know about all that. She doesn’t like me though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You grab his arm to stop him as you walk on the sidewalk.

“Why else would she care so much about you going ‘clubbing?’ She’s jealous.” He tells you like it was obvious.

“You think so?”

--------

When the two of you return to the tower, Wanda approaches you. She’s fidgeting with her fingers and biting her lip in that cute way she does when she gets nervous. Bucky claps you on the back, wishing you a good night, though the look on his face says ‘good luck.’

“Can I talk to you?” Wanda asks.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You nod, expecting her attitude.

“Natasha told me.” She says.

“Fuck-” 

“I’m so sorry for judging you.” She cuts you off, her words rushed. “Even if you were out clubbing, it was none of my business. I just.. I was so angry that I was so drawn to this person who didn’t seem to care.” 

“You’re drawn to me?” You smirk at her.

 “Unfortunately.” She jokes. “Please tell me you got more out of that.”

“Yeah,” You laugh, “I’m sorry for not telling you. I just… If I’m honest, I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

“Have you forgotten where I came from? I don’t think I have the right to think badly about anyone’s past.” 

“True,” you laugh again, “But I don’t want pity either, you know?” 

“I don’t pity you.” Wanda says, her hand resting on your arm. “I admire what you’re doing. The way you’re righting your wrongs.”

“It's the least I can do for the pain I caused these people.” You tell her, dropping the eye contact.

 “Well, it’s admirable.” 

“Back to this drawn to me thing-” you start.

“Absolutely not.” She pushes your shoulder gently, face burning as she does.

“You said it!” 

“And we’re not going to revisit it.” 

“I’m drawn to you too, if that helps.” Your hands find her waist, pulling her close to you. 

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.” She remarks.

“We don’t have to.” You shrug, savoring the feeling of her hands on your shoulders, her touch light, almost hesitant.

“So what?” 

“So, if you're drawn to me, I’m drawn to you… I think we both know what we should do now that doesn’t involve any talking.”

Wanda’s breath hitches at your words, her face mere inches from your own. 

“And what would that be?” Her voice is quiet, eyes glancing at your lips.

“Well,” You start to lean in. “This whole drawing metaphor, I’ll go get some paper. You grab the pens.”

“You’re infuriating.” She giggles at your response. 

“You like it though.” You tell her, finally leaning in. Your lips catch hers and she all but melts under your touch. Her lips are soft, plump. You can faintly taste her chapstick. She pulls back after a moment, resting your foreheads together.

She talked freely, too. Memories of Pietro or her parents slipped into conversation sans sadness or tears. This was your favorite version of Wanda. She seemed…. content. The woman had a rough life and it was clear in the way she presented herself to most people. On the outside, while she wasn’t exactly cold, she was restrained. 

It was difficult to explain, you thought. Wanda was amazing. But, very few people got to see this side of her. To the rest of the world, she was barely even an avenger. They viewed her as a foreigner regardless of how many lives she saved or world-ending-events she’d helped stop. So, the woman had naturally become much more reserved. 

But in times like this, late at night, just the two of you…. She was your Wanda. She was tired, yawning, and giggly. She was so fucking soft. 

It was your favorite.

Except, she wasn’t yours. Regardless of the immense differences in the relationship she shared with you versus the rest of the team, she wasn’t yours. No matter how many times the two of you had been in situations that were clearly pushing the boundaries of what could be considered platonic. 

“What are you thinking about?” She asked in her breathtaking accent. It wasn’t quite as thick as when she’d first left Sokovia, but it was there nonetheless. 

“You,” you answered simply, gazing up at her with adoration. You were nearing dangerous territory. Just because Wanda let you see this side of her didn’t mean the two of you were exactly ready to address the massive elephant in the room.

“What about me?” She asked, reaching a hand over to yours.

How much I love you, you wanted to blurt out. But, this moment with her, with soft Wanda, was worth more than a love confession.

“Read to me?” You asked gently, nudging just a little closer to the redhead.

“Y/N…” you heard the sigh. 

“Please?” you pouted up at her. “Or tell me a story? You know, like the one about the princess and the goats and-”

“Okay, yes, Sokovian fairy tales, I got it.” Wanda never understood why you’d taken such a liking to the stories she’d been told as a kid. To be honest, it wasn’t so much the stories as the way her eyes would get that far off look, corners of her mouth upturned just a little. You knew she enjoyed telling them, and the sweet memories attached, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

Plus, accent! Learning more about Sokovian culture was cool too, and you knew Wanda appreciated the way you stared at her in amazement.

“There was a young shepherd,” Wanda started, beginning to explain some story of a boy who overcame the low expectations set for him at birth through mystical fantasy. It was a standard children’s tale. 

As she spoke, you took a chance, closing the short distance between your bodies to lay your head on her shoulder. Her words slowed just a little before her arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you flush against her.

“And so, he saved the village and everyone in it with his magic. He saved them despite their judgements, despite how cruel they had been.” 

“They shouldn’t have been cruel in the first place.” You tell her.

“No. They shouldn’t have.” Her voice is quiet but her words are heavy.

“The boy is stronger than every single one of them.” You hear her take a breath. “He shouldn't have to hide.”

“Maybe he wants to.” Her words have an edge to them.

“Do you?”

She doesn’t respond for several moments.

“I don’t hide from you.” 

You pick your head up from her shoulder, looking into her eyes. “No, you don’t.”

The eye contact is intense. Part of you wants to turn away. There’s something there, in the way she’s looking at you. You’re close enough to her that you could lean in easily. But you don’t.

“I don’t…” Wanda trails off. “It’s terrifying, you know.”

“What is?” You ask her, willing your eyes not to glance down at her lips, again.

“You.” 

“Really?” You scrunch your face up, “You do remember that you’re the superhero, right?”

She breathes a laugh at your words before biting her lip.

“You didn’t ask why.”  

“What?” You ask with a frown.

“You’ve didn’t ask why.” She repeats, her eyes searching yours. “You’ve never asked why I don’t hide from you.”

“Well, I just thought I was special.” You deadpan. She laughs again, bigger this time. It’s music to you. You could listen to her laugh forever.

“How do you do that?” She asks you.

“Do what? I mean I know I am the funniest person you’ve ever met, but-”

“No, idiot,” She rolls her eyes, pushing your shoulder lightly. “It’s impossible to hide from you. How do you do that?”

You want to joke again, but her eyes tell you she’s serious. You break the eye contact, for a brief glance down at your lap.

“I care, Wanda.” You look back into her eyes. “That’s… That’s how I do it.”

“How much do you care?” She asks. That’s a fucking question, isn’t it? 

“I think you know.” Your hand finds hers. “I think you care just the same.”

“And if I do?” Her words are quiet, barely heard. But she’s daring you.

It’s a subtle movement. A slight lean forward. There’s less than two inches between your faces. But you don’t finish closing that distance. You pause. 

“If you do…?” 

Your eyes fluttered closed as her lips hit yours. It’s soft, almost hesitant. But as your hands move to cup her jaw, you feel her relax into your hold. There’s passion and desire, but no rush in the way your lips connect over and over again. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you to her.

You pull away for air, resting your forehead against hers. But she pulls back, eyes screwed shut to hide the red, hands leaving your side and clenching into fists enveloped in red magic.

“Hey,” You mutter, cupping her jaw again to press a kiss to her forehead before your hands find her fists. Thumbs trace over her knuckles softly until she looks at you. 

“I do.” She tells you, the red in her eyes dissipating with the small upturn of your lips. “I do care just the same.”

“Good, because this would be real weird if you didn’t.” And the way she shakes her head and rolls her eyes with a smile… Your heart swells. 

You’d always hated school. It never came easy, despite being a science genius. You were what most people called brilliant. You thought it was just being creative. You thought in a different way than most people. Tony Stark had sought you out when you were fresh out of high school right before the invasion of New York. 

But, despite having a secure job working for the avengers in the compound, you had decided it wouldn’t be a bad thing to go back to school. Just because you were good at making supersuits and other technological advancement-esque stuff didn’t mean you were that smart.

For example, calc two was kicking your ass right now. Making new impact resistant polymer suits for the gang was a hell of a lot easier for you than whatever the fuck this textbook was trying to explain. 

“Stupid math,” you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face as you looked back down at the problem you’d already tried to solve four times. There was no way in hell you were going to pass this class. 

Fighting back tears of frustration as you crumpled up the paper, you stood from your desk. It was near three in the morning and you were exhausted. But you would not let yourself fail this exam. Your grade in the class was already less than acceptable and failing your final would definitely leave you with an F.

You walked to the kitchen quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. Coffee would surely settle you down and give you enough energy to make it until the morning. You had to figure this out.

“I told you to ask Tony or Bruce for help,” Natasha’s voice startled you.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, drying your eyes before you turned to her.

“No, don’t worry.” She had an amused look on her face. “You’re still on calc, right?”

“Yeah,” your shoulders slumped. “But I have to be able to do this on my own. I shouldn’t have to annoy them with questions about basic math all the time.”

“Calculus is not basic math.” Natasha snorts at you.

“To them it is.”

“Well, make sure you go to sleep at some point, okay?” The concern in her eyes was evident and you just nodded, grabbing the cup of coffee you’d just brewed.

You took a sip before making your way back to your room. The textbook sat right where you’d left it and the sight of it bright a fresh wave of tears. 

You were a scientist for the avengers, damn it. Why were you crying over math? But your parents words flashed through your brain, reminding you that you were just a stupid kid. 

The relationship between you and your parents had always been rocky. They had held you to unachievable standards and no matter how much effort you put into school, they were never satisfied. And they always made sure you knew that.

“You think you’ll get anywhere in life with grades like these?” your father had shouted at you many times. “You’re just lazy. Do you know how much money we pay for you to go to this school? And this is how you repay us? You’re embarrassing.”

Your hand shook as you picked up your pencil once again, trying to figure out that stupid problem. There were so many rules and steps and none of them made sense to you! 

When the answer you got still didn’t match the one in the textbook, you slammed your pencil down with a scoff.

“You’re so stupid!” You said to yourself, tears leaking from your eyes. You started to erase your own writing again, when you glanced at the time, half past three. You were never going to figure this out.

It was becoming hard to read the problems through your watery eyes as you fought back the tears. You had to figure this out! But it was no use, you dropped your head onto the desk, holding in sobs. 

Your thoughts began to run with your father’s words. Embarrassing, lazy, stupid. You felt that familiar sense of self-loathing begin to rise within you and you were helpless. This wasn’t even the last unit you had to learn before your final. 

You were overwhelmed and you didn’t realize that your chest was tightening or your breath was becoming short. But when you lost feeling in your hands, and your face was tense and tingling, it was obvious.

You were having a panic attack. 

You were no stranger to these, of course. But, that didn’t make it any easier. It had been quite some time since you’d had a panic attack this severe, too, which made it that much scarier. 

You slid off your chair, pressing your back against the wall and pulling your knees up to your chest. You screwed your eyes shut, the heels of your shaking hands pressing into your eyes. If you had more control over the situation, you’d have tried to quiet your hyperventilation.

A soft touch to your hand brought you somewhat back to reality.

“Y/N,” a soft voice called. Your fingers instinctively clutched at the hand that pulled yours away from your face. 

“Y/N, you’re okay. I’m right here.” Nat’s voice was softer than you may have ever heard it before. 

“Nat, I-I,” you choked out, trying to say anything.

“No, don’t talk. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Her free hand rested on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Can you breathe with me?”

You tried to follow her soft ‘In’ and ‘out’ over and over. Your breaths were forced, almost painful as the panic refused to let up.

“Good job, dorogoy,” You felt the redhead scoot next to you, her arm wrapping around your shaking frame. “You’re doing amazing, I’ve got you.”

She pulled you into her gently. You were starting to gain the feeling back into your hands, and your facial muscles seemed to loosen just slightly. But, you were still shaking violently as you tried to stop yourself from sobbing.

“You’re okay,” Nat soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here.”

You leaned into her, balling your fist up in her shirt. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked after you had nearly stopped crying. 

“I’m gonna fail,” you whimpered. You felt pathetic.

“You know,” Nat sighed, “who cares?”

“What?” Her words confuse you.

“You are smart, Y/N. You already have a job, and after working for Stark, you could get in anywhere if you decided to leave. This is one class and regardless of how you do on the final, no one will think any less of you.”

“But-”

“No,” Nat cut you off. “Your grades in some stupid college class don’t matter. I promise, even if you do fail, we’ve all seen how hard you’ve worked in each of your classes. That’s what matters. Your work ethic and your commitment to your studies is worth so much more than sacrificing your wellbeing to secure a passing grade.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn't. It’s a tough class. You should be proud of yourself for trying, even if you don’t get the results you wanted.”

“I just wanted to prove them wrong. Even if they wouldn’t know. I wanted to prove to them I was smart.  But they were right, I’m just stupid.”

Your words hang in the air for a moment. Natasha knows you’re talking about your parents. They’d all heard about the verbal abuse you’d suffered through at the hands of the people who’d raised you.

“You are not stupid.” She tells you firmly. “You are brilliant. You’ve created a new polymer that is even better at stopping bullets than vibranium while also working as a material for clothing. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Yeah, but…”

“This is just one subject. I sure as hell can’t do calculus! You’re good at what you’re good at. I’m good at kicking ass, Clint’s good with a bow, Wanda’s good at… well magic. You’re good at science shit.”

You were silent. You knew she had a point.

“I know that won’t make you feel better about this.” Natasha explains. “But you can’t beat yourself up for this. You need to take care of yourself. Let’s go to bed, now, and we can ask Tony or Bruce for help in the morning.”

“I need to study,” you start.

“No, you need sleep.” Natasha’s voice is firm again. “You can’t sacrifice your health or your sanity for a test. You are more important than a test.”

“Okay.” You weren’t entirely convinced but, for now, your parent’s words were fading away.

Natasha helps you up before wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. You savor the comfort of her embrace, before realizing just how exhausted you are.

“Get in bed,” Natasha nudges you towards the bed. You lay down, eyes closing as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Nat pulls the blanket up before turning towards the door.

“Wait,” you call, hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “Please?”

“Of course, dorogoy,” Natasha smiles at you as she slides into bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you mutter, laying your head on her chest as her arms wrap around you tightly. She presses a gentle kiss to your head.