#marvel self insert

Your phone buzzes again with an incoming call and you glance at the screen, quickly returning your gaze to your laptop when you see the name ‘Brandon’ flash up on your screen. Like every time he’s called over the past few months you begin to worry that he’s trying to call to give you bad news – something happened to one of your Moms’, a mission gone wrong, one of them has gone missing, one is in the hospital… You figure though that if it’s important enough he’ll leave a message or at the very least, you’ll hear something on the news. Maybe Tony would get in touch with you, something he’d gotten into the habit of ever since you’d left for college.

After a couple of minutes your phone stops buzzing. Like every other time he’d attempted to contact you, Brandon hadn’t left a voicemail. At Thanksgiving your Moms’ had called a couple of times but hadn’t pressed the matter when you didn’t pick up the phone. Only at Christmas did Wanda send you a message. ‘Hey Honey, assume you couldn’t make the airfare home. Hope you have someone to spend the holidays with. Love you.’

You could’ve flown home if you’d truly wanted to. Tony had offered you the money for the plane ticket. “Actually kid,” He’d said to you over the phone. “I’ll do you one better. Get Happy to fly over with the private jet. You can ride home in style.”

“That’s kind Tony and I appreciate it,” You’d said. “But I have plans for the holidays already. I’m going to stay in California.”

Kate had read the message from Wanda over your shoulder, her nose wrinkling, “She really waited until Christmas Eve to check if you weren’t coming home? She could’ve at least tried to care.”

Kate Bishop, the only girl in your college that you’d confided in about your shit parents. Kate hadn’t wanted to go home for Christmas either so the two of you spent a couple of nights in a fancy hotel, with plans to spend the day after Christmas at Universal Studios, somewhere you hadn’t been yet, before heading back to your respective dorms to catch up on studying.

You’d shrugged your shoulders, “It’s not like it matters.”

“Of course it matters,” Kate had snapped. “That’s your Mom! And that’s the only message she sent you for Christmas? No promise to call, no asking if you’re okay, no actually checking if you have plans, just assuming that you do. In fact she probably assumes you don’t have plans, she just doesn’t want to know. The less she knows the less guilty she has to feel.”

You’d heard all this before but there was something different about Kate getting angry on your behalf. Your best friend from home, Cassie, had ranted and raved about your Moms’ and your twin multiple times but you were used to her ranting and raving about anything. Cassie was lovely but also righteous, always angry about something, always worrying about someone suffering in some far corner of the earth, and when she ranted about your parents it felt as far removed as her other indignations. Kate though – good, funny, kind Kate who never had a bad word to say about anyone? It felt personal. It felt real.

You’d realised why Kate got so upset on your behalf the day after Christmas when she’d kissed you on the Secret Life of Pets ride, something you’d both ridden because it had a short queue. You’d both been laughing and then suddenly her mouth was on yours and it had taken the ride operator three times to ask you to get off because the ride was over. When you went back to the dorm Kate had moved in with you for the remainder of Christmas break, the two of you scrunching up onto your single bed, her arm around your waist, your head tucked beneath her chin. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but it was comforting.

On New Year’s Eve the first call from your brother had come through. You’d been getting ready to go out – parties had never really been your thing but Kate had told you it would be casual, and that besides, she wanted to kiss you when it was midnight, and she wanted everyone to see. So you’d agreed to go, aiming for a look that wasn’t too casual but also wasn’t too dressed up. You’d been debating what to do with your hair when your phone screen had lit up and you’d blinked at it in surprise when you saw Brandon’s name.

You hadn’t answered. He hadn’t left a message or tried to call again. Maybe he’d hit the wrong number, you figured. New York were three hours ahead of California, maybe he’d already had a few drinks and maybe tomorrow he’d be embarrassed when he realised he’d tried to call you. You’d assumed that was the case until a week later he tried to call you again.

It’s now May and you’re close to finishing your first year – he’s tried to call at least once every two weeks since then, along with sporadic phone calls from your Mother’s which you also ignore. Tony doesn’t give anything away when he calls, usually about once every three weeks – to check in, to see how your studies are going, whether you need any more money. He keeps the conversation on you, wanting to know about you and your creative writing class and whether you’ve made any friends and he’d certainly wanted to hear all about Kate. You’d found that you rather liked having someone ask after you, having an opportunity to talk about yourself uninterrupted, so you’d stopped asking him questions about the Avengers and let yourself tell him all the details of your college life.

As soon as your phone stops ringing you turn your attention back to the story you’d been working on. You need to submit a 10,000 word short story, and you’re struggling to know what to write about. You stare at the blank document in front of you when suddenly your phone buzzes again and you look down to see Brandon trying to call a second time. Your stomach twists with worry – maybe something really has happened to one of your Moms’. No matter how they treated you as you were growing up, they’re still your Moms’. You don’t wish them ill.

Whilst you’re still wondering whether to answer the phone it stops ringing and you let yourself breath. A moment later the symbol appears in the corner of the screen to show that you have a voicemail. Your eye-brows furrow before you flex your fingers over the keyboard, determined to ignore it, not interested in what your brother had to say.

After Christmas Kate had told you she thought you should go to therapy. If anyone else had said that to you you’d have been embarrassed, angry even, but there was something about the caring, gentle way that Kate said it that made you think maybe she was on to something. Tony was giving you a generous allowance each month so you didn’t have to go through the college’s free counsellor, you could choose whoever you wanted. You found someone’s profile online that you liked and they had immediate availability.

It had been awkward at first. Walking into a room and introducing yourself to a total stranger then being expected to immediately jump into the reason why you’re there, the thoughts, fears and worries you’ve been holding onto your entire life. Your therapist, Emma, had given you a kind smile and had asked why you’d decided to start therapy. You’d just about managed to say, “Well… I’ve always felt like my parents don’t love me as much as-” before you’d burst into tears.

Strange really. You’d had no problem saying those words to Kate, to Cassie. Hadn’t had any problem telling your new college friends that you weren’t going home for the holidays, that you weren’t that close to your family without elaborating further. But something about opening up to this woman sitting across from you, a pen and notebook in her lap, made you burst into tears. To her credit, she’d been very kind – letting you take a moment to pull yourself together, reassuring you it wasn’t unusual to cry in these sessions, that was why she kept a stock of tissues.

As months had gone by you hadn’t cried again but every time you left you would feel a heavy weight on your chest as memories of your childhood had flooded out of you, things you hadn’t thought about for years.

When you were ten years old you were desperate to see if you had powers like Wanda – she’d carried you; it made sense that you might also be enhanced. You’d been in your room, trying to concentrate, to produce the red, glowing magic that your Mom could conjure without thinking. You’d thrown your arms out, trying to move gracefully the way that your Mom did in the battlefield when you’d suddenly heard laughter. Brandon. Who’d filmed you on his phone and then showed your Moms’ who also laughed at you. Wanda had ruffled your hair but neither of them comforted you when your cheeks burned, your palms had gone sweaty and you hadn’t been able to look any of them in the eye for the rest of the night. Brandon had mocked your movements for weeks, snickering whenever it managed to successfully wind you up.

When you were sixteen Brandon had introduced his girlfriend to your Moms’ for the first time. They’d fallen in love with her instantly and you’d overheard Natasha describe her as “the daughter they never had.” When she’d met your eye she’d quickly told you she didn’t mean it like that – you’re still not sure how else she could’ve possibly meant it.

You’d told your therapist about the disastrous eighth birthday that had kick-started your realisation of how Brandon was treated compared to you. “I don’t want you to think it was about the gifts,” You’d said, shifting awkwardly on the suede couch in your therapist’s office. “I didn’t need a PlayStation or an XBOX or… Any of that. It’s just…”

When you leave the silence hanging between you for too long Emma prompts, “You needed your Moms’. Needed them to notice you and love you as much as they loved Brandon. There were two of them. One of them could’ve gone into your room, even if you’d all eventually made your way into Brandon’s room. One of them could’ve sat with you. They could’ve let you take turns opening the gifts rather than making you wait until Brandon was done. It was your birthday too and yet you were made to feel like an afterthought.”

You’d fiddled with your hands in front of you, “Sometimes I feel like I’m being overdramatic. I mean… It’s not like they abused me. They never laid a hand on me, never even really raised their voice to me, they were always calm. I felt safe with them.”

Emma had nodded before asking in her calm voice, “But did you feel wanted?”

You’d kept your tears in until you’d got back to your dorm. Because no – you’d never felt wanted. Not by your Moms’, your brother, any of the Avengers, not even by Cassie though it wasn’t her fault. There was only one person who had ever made you truly feel wanted.

Kate looks up from where she’s lounging on your bed as she sees the expression on your face. She’d gotten into the habit of hanging out in your room whilst you attempted to write, always bringing snacks and words of encouragement. Instead of saying anything she just holds out her arms and you abandon your laptop, picking up your phone and climb onto your single bed, letting her pull you into her warm embrace.

“Look,” You say, showing her the voicemail from your brother.

Kate kisses your forehead before leaning her head on your shoulder, “What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know. He’s been trying to get in touch since New Years and I’ve always ignored his calls. It’s the first time he’s left a voicemail.”

“You don’t have to listen to it if you don’t want to. You don’t owe him anything.”

“He’s still my brother-”

“And where was that energy from him when-” Kate forces herself to take a deep breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek this time. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

“It’s sitting there, taunting me. I don’t want to look at that notification every day whilst I decide.” You sigh, “I’m going to play it.”

Kate doesn’t argue with you, secretly intrigued to hear what your brother could possibly want to finally leave a voicemail. You hit play, turning your phone on speaker so Kate can hear as well.

“Hey Y/N…” It almost feels a physical blow to hear your twin brother’s voice for the first time in months. It knocks the wind completely out of your sails so it takes you a minute to realise he’s slurring his words. “Do you remember when we were really little and we made that den in the- It was- You were so funny, always wanting to be the princess. It was kind of… Anyway, I just… You haven’t been home in forever. I thought maybe you knew, through the twin connection, we- Remember we used to pretend we could read each other’s minds? Anyway, things got kinda fucked around here but it’s not- I’ll be okay, I always am. It’d be good to see you, hear how college is treating you. Yeah… Call me back. If you want, I’m not that fussed. Yeah. Okay. Bye.”

Kate rolls her eyes, her arm tightening around your waist the moment your phone goes silent, “Why’d he have to laugh like that when he asked how college was going?”

You’d noticed that too, as if you’d already crashed and burned and he was just waiting for you to tell them. Although you were struggling with your final assignment you’d been surprised at how easily college came to you – how quickly you’d managed to make friends, how you breezed through your assignments. Tony’s allowance meant you didn’t need to get a part-time job but you volunteered a couple of mornings a week at the on-campus library. College was easy – it was like you’d been waiting to get here. Now your life had officially begun and it was better than anything you could’ve imagined.

You didn’t have time to dwell on your brother’s voicemail. Not when Kate began kissing your neck, her hand wandering up and down your body. There were far more important things to focus on than Brandon right now.

You finish your 10,000 word short story, submitting it with the rest of your final assignments. It had taken a lot of late nights, and a lot of resistance from you to stop Kate from inadvertently distracting you but you’d managed it. Now you’ve packed up everything from your dorm room ready to go back to New York. You’d hoped you and Kate could wait out summer break in California but it turned out that Kate was going back to New York too; to spend the summer with her Mother who was apparently worried that Kate had gotten into all sorts of stupid shenanigans whilst she was at college.

Happy picks you up again, starting the long journey home whilst Kate returns with her Mom, the two of them apparently planning a road trip so they can catch up on everything. Kate had asked her if you could join them but apparently her Mom had been a bit weird about it, something which didn’t fill you with joy to meet her one day.

Once you’re home you’re surprised at the warm reception your Moms’ give you. You’ve just stepped through the door with one of your boxes when Natasha quickly pulls it out of your arms, before gathering you in her own, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “There’s our sweet girl,” Natasha says, hugging you tighter. “We’ve missed you so much.”

Wanda is waiting eagerly behind her, and gives you a big hug the second Natasha lets go, “We wanted to come pick you up but… Well, we’re glad you’re home. We should’ve sent you the money to come home for Christmas; it wasn’t the same without you.”

“We want to hear everything,” Natasha says, running a hand over your head as Wanda continues to hug you tight.

They both help you bring all your boxes inside then before you know what’s happened; you’re sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in front of you as your Moms’ look at you expectantly, wanting to hear ‘everything’. It’s been nearly a year since they saw you or even spoke to you and there’s a lot to tell them but you find that you don’t even know where to begin. You don’t think you’ve ever had their attention solely on you, and you find it a little awkward.

“Tony says that you met someone,” Natasha prompts.

So Tony had been talking to them about you. Neither of them had asked or tried other than the occasional sporadic phone call. No one had left you a message, not even Brandon after the one you’d ignored those few weeks ago. Eventually you nod and say quietly, “Yeah… Yeah, her name’s Kate.”

Your Moms’ look at you, clearly wanting more information, but your throat closes up as you realise you don’t want to tell them about Kate. Not because you’re embarrassed but because Kate… Kate is yours. The thought of you telling your Moms’ everything you love about Kate, and them telling Brandon, only for him to twist it around, to mock you, to mock her… Eventually you land on, “Yeah, I really like her.”

“You said she lives in New York?” Wanda asks. “Maybe we’ll all have to meet up for dinner.”

You nod, having absolutely no intention of introducing your parents’ to Kate. “Tell us about your course,” Natasha prompts. “Did you-”

“Hey.”

Your brother’s voice interrupts from the doorway, and you’re surprised at the instant reaction from your Moms’. Or the lack of. Rather than jumping up to fuss over him, to check if he needs anything, they both remain where they are. In fact, they both seem to visibly tense at the sound of his voice. Neither of them even turns to look at him.

Brandon looks like shit, you realise. Granted it’s been a long time since you’ve seen him but he looks nothing like the boy you’d said goodbye to nearly a year ago when you and your Moms’ had dropped him off at NYU. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, his face looks hollow and there’s just… A darkness to him that you hadn’t noticed before. He’d always been the golden boy, basking in the light and love of your Moms’, but now he seems like a shadow. “Hey,” You reply quietly. “You’re home too?”

Brandon lets out a snort that’s half a laugh, half exasperation, “I guess you didn’t tell her yet.” Your gaze swivels to your Moms’, neither of whom says anything. Brandon rolls his eyes, “College didn’t work out. I’ve been living at home since Christmas.”

Was that why he’d tried to call you on New Year’s Eve? To lament the fact that college ‘hadn’t worked out’ for him. Maybe that was why he’d laughed when he asked about college, assuming you were struggling with it – if Brandon hadn’t managed it, how could you be doing okay? You glance at your Moms’, but neither of them gives anything away. You rack your brains to remember what Brandon was even studying, feeling a little guilty when you realise you have no idea.

“It’s a good opportunity anyway,” Brandon says. “I’m going to start my own business.”

You wait for your Moms’ to back him up, to confirm it’s a good idea even if you think it’s an awful one, but they both remain silent, both of them staring awkwardly at the table. You take another sip of your tea before standing up, “Sounds… Great. I should probably freshen up.”

“We thought we’d go out for dinner,” Wanda says quickly. “Anywhere that you want.”

You raise your eye-brows in surprise, your gaze immediately darting to Brandon, taking in the way his jaw tightens and his mouth sets in a thin line. It only took over eighteen years but it’s finally your turn to pick where you all go for dinner. “I’ll have a think about it,” You eventually manage to say before slipping past your brother to head upstairs.

As you walk through the house you begin to notice things you hadn’t before. Glass missing from the frame of the family photo at the bottom of the stairs. A patched up hole in the wall just outside of Brandon’s room. When you peak into Brandon’s room you’re surprised to find it’s a complete mess, with empty plates and glasses on every surface, trash littering the floor… You can smell the stale air from the hallway and you wince, heading into your own room across the hall.

You take a seat on the edge of your childhood bed, remembering the countless nights you’d spent in here wishing they would just treat you like part of the family. Now you’d had your Moms’ full attention, they’d been so happy to see you, they’d even said you could pick where you all went out for dinner… But it still felt like too little, too late.

As for Brandon... You had no idea why he was acting so strange. What had actually happened for him to leave college? You pull out your phone, instantly relaxing when you find a message from Kate. Your calm in the storm.

Summer break begins to go by at snail’s pace. One month passes and you learn that Brandon was kicked out of college rather than leaving of his own freewill. His girlfriend had broken up with him and he’d spiralled, turning to alcohol, neglecting his studies, picking fights with anyone he deemed had ‘looked at him wrong’. Your Moms’ had tried to appeal on Brandon’s behalf but the college had kicked him out anyway, not wanting the hassle of him. Brandon had come home, cursing the dean, cursing everything, insisting he was going to start his own business, that he didn’t need a degree to be a success. When it turned out to be harder than he’d anticipated, he’d fallen into a routine of skulking around the house, grunting or sneering at anyone who tried to talk to him, then spending every evening drinking alone in his room. If your Moms’ tentatively suggested he should meet up with his friends he rolled his eyes and mumbled something about not wanting to see those losers.

You’d realised quickly Brandon had a temper that he’d never really shown before, only made worse when he was drinking. Your Moms’ didn’t look at him like their golden boy anymore but they still didn’t stand up to him, not even when he got right in Wanda’s face, screaming abuse at her before grabbing the nearest thing to him and slamming it against the floor. That turned out to be Natasha’s favourite mug which had smashed into a million pieces. You’d simply watched, horrified. Brandon had tried to talk to you a couple of times, tried to get back to your usual rapport, trying to undermine your college, your course, the few friends that you’d told them about. It didn’t work this time though. Rather than humiliation and anger, you simply felt sad for him. He’d spent his whole life being told he was God’s gift to humanity and he was now discovering he wasn’t. That if he wanted to make something of his life, he’d have to work for it. And it didn’t look like he was willing to put in the effort.

You meet up with Kate at least once a week and she delights in your brother’s downfall. “What?” Kate asks when you give her a look. “It’s a little bit funny.”

“I’m worried for my Moms’. He’s… He’s so wound up Kate, I really thought he was gonna hit Mom the other day-”

“They’re Avengers; they could kick his ass if they wanted to. And they probably should, it would teach him a valuable lesson. But they don’t. And until someone does something, this is all he’s ever gonna be. A loser, stuck at home with his Mommy’s. Even his girlfriend sniffed out his shit and good for her honestly.” Kate grins at you, kissing your cheek, “Sorry, sorry, I know he’s your brother. But come on, it's not like he ever cared about you.”

“I know,” You reply quietly, remembering the many conversations you’d had with Emma. Now you were home you were still talking to her weekly, just virtually. “It’s just… Hard to blame him entirely. If I was the one my Moms’ chose to shower with their love and light like that, would I have spared a thought for him?”

“Yes,” Kate replies without hesitation. “Yes, you would have. I’ve heard you talk about him Y/N, and I know that all you ever wanted was a brother, not a rival. You would’ve insisted on things being fair.”

You glance at her, “Is this because of when I argued about the rules of UNO? Because-”

“UNO, Monopoly, pretty much any board game we play and you insist on looking up the rules,” Kate teases, kissing your cheek again. “Because you like things to be fair. Brandon didn’t care about whether things were fair, he only cared about himself. And now the dynamic is shifting and he hates that.”

You lean your head on her shoulder, “It must be embarrassing for him though. No matter what went down when we were kids, he’s still my brother. I didn’t want him to crash and burn.”

“You’re a better person than me because I would be gloating about this every chance I got.”

You grin, nudging her chin with your head, “Yeah, we all know.”

“Seriously though, it’s not your job to manage your brother’s failure. He could apply to go to college next year or get an internship or something. His life isn’t over, I’m sure your Moms’ have strings to pull if he would just get off his ass and ask.” Kate leans her head against yours, “I was thinking we could go away for a bit.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“My family has a vacation home in Vermont. We normally go in December so it’ll be empty right now. Just for a couple of weeks, we could go on walks and you… You could have a break. Every time I see you, you look more and more stressed out. You deserve a rest from all of this.”

The atmosphere in your house had been so weird and Kate had noticed it was taking a toll on you. You and your Moms’ had been tiptoeing around your brother because the slightest thing could set him off into a fit of anger. Natasha had patched up a couple more holes in the house, and Wanda was spending more time staring into space, simply responding “I’m fine darling” whenever you asked if she was okay. The thought of escaping that oppressive house for two weeks was a relief, and you immediately felt like you could breathe again.

That feeling of relief is short-lived and by the time you get home your chest is tight with anxiety again. Brandon is upstairs in his room, screaming and shouting about something, his ravings punctuated by the sounds of loud bangs, and your Moms’ are in the kitchen, Natasha’s arms around Wanda whilst she sobs into her chest. You hesitate in the doorway, before grabbing a dustpan and brush to sweep up the broken debris on the floor. It looks like a plate – or what used to be a plate anyway.

“Thanks Sweetheart,” Natasha says quietly. One of her hands runs up and down Wanda’s back. “I’m sorry about all of this, it’s just… He’s going through a rough patch. He needs time-”

“It’s August. He got kicked out of college eight months ago.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, hard and bitter as you scrape the broken plate into the bin. “You’ve all been living like this for eight months?”

“He- He’s our son; he needs our support right now-”

“How are you supporting him?” You ask, turning to face them both, feeling momentarily guilty when you catch sight of Wanda’s tear streaked face. But you know you’re right and now that you’ve started you find that you can’t stop, “You’re not supporting him, you’re enabling him. What has he actually done since being kicked out? He doesn’t even have a job.”

“He’s been looking-”

“Bullshit he’s been looking! He sits in his room wallowing in self-pity and you both just let him. Why bother actually looking for a job when you two will be there to catch him when he falls? I know you’ve been giving him money and it’s being wasted on enabling his drinking habits-”

“He’s not like you,” Wanda says defensively. “His whole world fell apart when Vanessa broke up with him and now he’s struggling. You’ve always been so independent-”

“I didn’t have a choice!” You snap, the words that you’d wanted to say the day you told them you were moving to California tumbling out of your mouth. “If I were the one who’d flunked out of college there’s no way you would’ve let me behave like this! You think my first year was easy? Sometimes it was really fucking difficult but I didn’t have the security of a safety net, of anyone to catch me when I fall. I don’t have the luxury of being able to fall apart, I never have.”

“Y/N-”

“He needs an intervention. He needs you both to stop tiptoeing around him. He needs a fucking reality check. He needs-”

“What else do I need, Y/N?”

Your blood runs cold as you hear your brother’s icy voice from behind you, and you slowly turn to face him. It still hits you even now just unrecognisable Brandon has become. You’ve always been jealous of how bright he is, how other people are always drawn to him. The difference between you now is stark, as if you’d stolen the light from him. As you glance at your Moms’, you realise that neither of them is going to say anything to Brandon. Kate had been right, if he did try to physically hurt them, they could easily stop him. That wasn’t what they were afraid of though. They were afraid of him turning his back on them. Even now, even when he was making their lives so difficult and stressing them out to the point where Wanda had been crying when you got home, they still wouldn’t dare stand up to their precious boy.

Nothing was ever going to change.

“You need,” You say in the calmest voice you can manage, “To get a fucking grip Brandon. Vanessa broke up with you. Big fucking deal. People break up all the time. You should’ve gone out for a couple of drinks with your friends and then gotten a grip.”

“You have no idea how hard it was for me-”

“It wasn’t hard for you! It was never hard for you. You’ve had everything handed to you on a silver fucking spoon your entire life and the moment you were faced with a real problem you made it everyone else’s problem.” Your voice is still quiet but cold and firm. “Our Moms’ would do anything for you, anything at all. And this is how you repay them? Smashing up their house, making them miserable in their own home-”

“What the fuck would you know about it, Y/N? You think you’re so much better than me for sticking it out at college but you’re doing creative writing. You’re never going to do anything with that-”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, but at least I’m doing something Brandon. You’re a loser bumming off the Moms’ and what have you got to show for it? No girlfriend, no friends, no job, nothing.”

“I’m a loser? I’m a loser? I had way more friends than you in school, you were the one that the other kids made fun of, that-”

“We’re not kids anymore, you fucking baby!” You snap. “You need to grow the fuck up and-”

What happens next happens so quickly that you barely have time to register it. Brandon, holding his fist up, moving towards you, and you flinching away. A flash of bright red light, a scream and when you open your eyes again, Brandon is crumpled on the floor, both of your Moms’ staring at him, Natasha shocked but Wanda’s face set in cold, hard anger.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on your sister,” Wanda practically hisses. “She’s right. We’ve tiptoed around you for too long and it’s not doing you any favours. Me and your Mama have been waiting patiently for your anger to subside, but you’ve gone too far now. We don’t hurt each other in this house. Me and your Mom have been letting you hurt us for too long but I won't let you hurt your sister.”

Brandon glares at her, “Mom-”

“You can’t stay here anymore,” Wanda says. “I won’t have the worry of you potentially hurting your sister hanging over my head while she’s here.”

“Are you- You’re really going to pick her over me?” Neither of your Moms’ says anything and Brandon’s nostrils flare with irritation, “Where the Hell am I supposed to go?”

“We’ve been giving you money for months,” Natasha says, her own voice cold and hard. “If you’ve wasted it, that sounds like your problem.”

“You’re a smart boy, Brandon,” Wanda says. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

There’s a long, tense moment of silence before Brandon climbs to his feet, his eyes blazing as he storms out, slamming the door so loudly behind him that the entire house shakes. Wanda turns to you, reaching out to place a hand on your arm, “Baby… Are you okay?”

You nod, dumbfounded, “You… You didn’t have to do that. I’m going away with Kate tomorrow. She has a holiday home, I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks-”

“We did have to do that,” Natasha says quietly. She looks at Wanda then runs a hand through her red hair, “We did. Fuck.”

“I didn’t realise that you thought…” Wanda lets her voice trail off, her hand moving to your face to cup your cheek. “Y/N, I didn’t… We never meant to…”

“Have you been okay?” Natasha asks, moving to stand on your other side. “At college? How have you been paying for everything?”

You swallow hard and then mumble, “Tony sends me an allowance every month.”

Wanda’s eyes water, “Tony. Of course.”

“And you’ve been alright?” Natasha persists. “You haven’t… Have you struggled with anything? Assignments or boy problems or friends-”

“You both know I have a girlfriend so no, no boy problems…”

“I didn’t even know that you liked-” Wanda has to look away.

Natasha just nods, “You said you’re going away for a couple of weeks? Do you want me to help you pack?”

You hesitate but figure that the distraction of packing your suitcase will be better for all of you than sitting there brooding on Brandon, everything he’s done and where he might be right now. So you nod, leading your Moms’ upstairs, Natasha walking stiffly with her fists clenched, Wanda with tears starting to silently trickle down her cheeks again.

Wanda sits down on your bed whilst Natasha pulls out your suitcase, opening it on the bed and then looking around, “Where’s she taking you?”

“Vermont,” You answer.

Wanda looks at you, “Kate… She… You like her? She treats you well?”

You nod, giving her a small, sad smile, “Yeah. She’s… I really like her.”

“Do you have a picture of her?” Natasha asks.

You hesitate. You hadn’t shown them a picture of Kate or gone into any details about her but you feel like you can’t deny them this after everything that happens, especially since you’re going away with her for two weeks. So you take out your phone and show your Moms’ your lock screen, a selfie of you and Kate where Kate’s sticking her tongue out and squishing your cheeks between her fingers. Wanda smiles, “She’s pretty. What is she studying?”

“Business Studies, her Mom wants her to take over her business someday.”

Both of them continue asking questions about her and you answer easily as you and Natasha work on packing your suitcase. Wanda eventually smiles through her tears when you recount another story of Kate doing something ridiculous just because she’d been dared to, and Natasha actually laughs. Eventually you stand back, looking at your fully packed suitcase and say quietly, “I do think he needs help.”

Natasha and Wanda glance at each other before Natasha nods, “I know. I know he does.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay tonight?”

“He’ll manage one night. No doubt he’ll be back here tomorrow and then…” Natasha hesitates. “We’ll look up AA meetings. Or get counselling or… Something. He’s underage so I know he shouldn’t be but…”

“It’s time he got a job,” Wanda says. “You’re right; we let him wallow around in self-pity for eight months. Enough’s enough.”

You purse your lips together, looking between them both, “I love you both but…”

“I know,” Natasha says quietly. “We know.”

“Can we call while you’re away?” Wanda asks. “We tried while you were at college but you never answered and you never called back. We thought… We thought maybe you didn’t want to talk to us.”

“I did want to talk to you,” You admit. “I just… I wanted you to try. To try harder. To prove that you loved me.”

Natasha’s face falls and she pulls you into her arms, “Oh Y/N… Of course we love you.”

“Not as much as Brandon though,” You mumble into her shoulder.

Natasha shakes her head and closes her eyes, “No. That’s not true. We’ve always loved you the same. I know it didn’t always feel like that. We messed up so many things Y/N but please don’t ever think we loved you less. I swear we didn’t. You’re our special girl.”

You don’t say anything and Wanda stands up to join in the hug too. Both your Moms’ tuck you between them, both holding you tightly. You can’t remember them ever doing this for you when you were a kid. Natasha presses a kiss to the top of your head and you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to finally accept comfort from both of your Moms’.

You don’t forgive them for everything that happened when you were little. When you go back to college, you’re not sure if you will answer their calls. You’ll probably answer while you’re in Vermont, just to make sure Brandon hasn’t done anything too crazy while you’ve been away. But what matters the most is that you’re not that upset little girl anymore.

You linger awkwardly in the doorway to the medbay as the medics work hard at patching up Kate. She looks rough – Clint had found her just in time after Kate had been missing for eight weeks. Any length of time missing in action is bad, but this was the longest that any Avenger had been untraceable for. Now she was malnourished, badly dehydrated and littered in cuts and bruises. When Clint had lifted her up into his arms, she’d barely registered him or that she was being moved.

Tony puts a hand on your shoulder, “I know you feel uncomfortable about this. But it’s the easiest way.”

You nudge him off your shoulder, the guilt rising in your stomach as you remember why you’re here. Not to support Kate, not to be her friend, but to use your power to shift through her memories, to see what happened to her while she was away. Tony might say it was the easiest way but for who exactly? Kate? You doubted it – this was her trauma and you were going to delve into it without her permission or knowledge. Easier for Tony no doubt to hear the information second-hand from you. There was a reason he hadn’t told Steve about this, knowing the Captain would chew him out if he knew.

You’d protested when Tony had asked but had agreed, probably far quicker than you ought to have. Because a dark, twisted part of you needed to know what happened while Kate was away. You wanted to memorise the faces of the people that had done this to her and hunt them down one by one. If anyone was going to find out what happened, you wanted it to be you. You wanted to be the first, the one who knew every gruesome detail. You wanted to take on the burden of Kate’s pain. Tony might be in this for himself but it would be easier for Kate not to have to relive the traumatic events that had occurred. That was what you’d told yourself anyway.

By the time you’re allowed inside Kate is asleep, hooked up to machines and looking peaceful despite the dark bruises on her face. Tony takes a step into the room but one hard glare from you has him holding his hands up and backing out quickly, leaving you to your work. You turn your attention back down to Kate, running your fingers gently over her forehead to brush a strand of dark hair out of her face. Your gaze turns to her lips, remembering the fairytales you’d read as a child. Maybe one kiss would be enough to fix all of this mess-

You quickly look away, your cheeks burning. Kate wasn’t your girlfriend. Not that it stopped you from thinking about her every hour of the day, glancing at her constantly during training, volunteering first whenever she was looking for a sparring buddy, making sure you sat next to her at the dinner table, or laughing the loudest at all of her jokes, including the particularly cheesy ones. Your infatuation for Kate hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone except for Kate herself apparently. Unless she just didn’t like you like that but hadn’t wanted to hurt your feelings.

Sometimes though, you’d catch her looking at you, see the way her eyes would quickly swivel away when you caught her gaze, and how she’d wipe her hands on her pants, and you’d wonder if maybe… There was something there after all. Not that it mattered, neither of you was brave enough to make the first move.

Kate was always getting herself into trouble and this wasn’t any exception. As you press your fingers to the side of her head, you’re instantly flooded with her memories – how she’d approached a gang of criminals without any back-up, nobody any the wiser that Kate had intended to do that, how they’d outnumbered her easily, carried her back to their lair. Then the torture began.

It was difficult, but you forced yourself to watch as Kate valiantly refused to give away any information despite what they did to her. It had been horrendous and Kate had screamed and cried, but whenever they began to question her again she’d just purse her lips together and breathe through her nose, fighting the pain, refusing to give anything away. For four weeks she hadn’t cracked until one day, they’d tried a different tactic. One of the men walked into the room and Kate braced herself for the usual blows, for the pain to begin, but they merely held something up for her to see. Kate’s eyes had blinked, slowly coming into focus until they’d landed on a necklace in his hand. Your necklace.

You’d had to come out of her memory for a moment, gently touching the necklace around your neck, the one that you wore every single day without fail, even on the battlefield. It hadn’t been yours – the one the man had been holding. You’d have known if it had gone missing. A good replica maybe, but it definitely hadn’t been your necklace. You look down at Kate’s sleeping face, watching the way her chest slowly rises and falls, before slowly placing your fingers on the side of her head again, letting the memories filter into your own brain.

You’d been young when you’d realised you’d possessed this ability. Your fingers had touched your younger brother’s head while he slept, and your own head had been invaded by his memories, seeing the world through his eyes. It had been difficult to sift through them at first, but you’d taught yourself, secretly practicing on your family every night. One day you’d tried when your Mom was awake, just to see if you could, and she’d pushed you off her, clutching her head in her hands. The look on her face when she realised what you could do would be burned into your brain forever. They didn’t trust you after that. You were locked in your room each night, your power a dirty secret. It had taken you years to admit your abilities to the Avengers.

Your mind focuses on the necklace in the masked assailants’ hand, his voice coming through clearly into your own head, “We have Y/N. If you do not answer our questions… Let’s just say it will end badly for her.”

Kate had taken a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly before rasping out, “I don’t believe you.”

“That is up to you. It’s your choice to make.”

Kate had folded, almost instantly. All their questions had been answered but they still hadn’t set her free. It seemed they almost delighted in tormenting her. Maybe they had a personal vendetta against her, maybe against the Avengers, or maybe they were just evil. One afternoon her captors had taunted her, “It’s your choice Kate Bishop. We can either hurt you, or we can hurt Y/N. What do you want to-”

“Me,” Kate had hissed through her teeth without hesitation. “Hurt me. Just… Leave her alone. Let her go, I told you everything you wanted to know. Please leave her alone. Please.”

Kate had endured torture for weeks, believing she’d been protecting you, unaware that you’d been safe and sound at the Avengers compound the entire time.

When they discovered Kate had managed to cut through one of her bonds, they’d threatened to go to ‘your cell’, to terminate you for her insolence. Kate had cried and begged for your life, so hard that she’d nearly vomited up the little food she had in her system. They’d retightened her restraints and had warned her not to try again or you would suffer. Kate didn’t make any more attempts to escape.

Eventually Kate’s captors had grown tired of their torment and had disappeared, leaving her alone with no food or water for two full days. Kate had been strapped down, unable to move, too weak to even call out for help. If Clint hadn’t found her when he had, she would surely be dead.

Your eyes burn as you remove your hand from her head, your vision returning to the present, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Kate’s chest. Part of you knows deep-down that Kate would’ve been hurt regardless but to know that she bore the pain in an attempt to protect you makes your heart twist painfully. Your hand drops down to her arm, running your fingers down it as softly as possible before taking her hand in yours.

Why had they used you? The obvious choice for blackmailing Kate would’ve been to pretend they had Clint. Maybe they didn’t have anything easily identifiable as his, but Yelena would’ve been an easy choice too - everyone knows how close Kate is to Natasha’s sister. Or even her beloved dog, Lucky. They could’ve picked any of the Avengers, but they’d chosen you. And Kate had crumbled instantly.

“Thank you,” You whisper, knowing that Kate can’t hear you but wanting to tell her anyway. “You shouldn’t have done that but… I would’ve done the same for you. In a heartbeat.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Tony says, running a hand through his hair. “One less thing to worry about. We’re obviously still in the process of trying to find them, but at least we know Kate didn’t give anything away.”

You’re sat opposite Tony in his office, having just given him an edited account of what happened to Kate during her captivity. Although you hadn’t downplayed any of the suffering that Kate went through, you’d omitted the parts where they’d lied to her, had convinced her you were being held captive too. Hadn’t told him that Kate had answered all of their questions, and they’d continued to torment her anyway. In your version, Kate refused until eventually the gang gave up and left her for dead.

You’d find them long before the Avengers did. Although they were masked in Kate’s memories, you’d managed to sift through and find enough identifiable details to track most of them down, which would surely lead you to the rest. And when you found them, their deaths would be slow and painful. Kate’s torture would be a drop in the ocean compared to what you had planned for them.

“I’m not doing that again,” You tell Tony. “If this happens to anyone else, you ask them what happened, or we ask for their permission if it’s too painful for them to discuss. It was a violation and you’re never to ask Kate about it.”

Tony simply nods, watching thoughtfully as you stand and leave his office.

Nobody asks Kate about what happened, and she doesn’t offer any information. At first, you’d worried that Kate would panic, would insist on telling everyone the secrets that she’d told the masked assailants, to let them know finding them should be a priority. But she hadn’t. You’d kept an eye on all internet forums, particularly on the dark web, but everything remained quiet. Whatever they planned to do with the information they’d obtained from Kate, they hadn’t leaked it yet. Not that it mattered – they’d soon be dead anyway, the secrets dying with them.

One evening you keep Kate company while the others are busy, playing a board game with her. Your counter is only a few places away from the end when Kate says quietly, “I know you know.”

You avoid her gaze, slowly picking up the dice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I thought you were- But- You were here the whole time, weren’t you?” You hesitate, keeping your gaze on the board game in front of you before you nod, just once. Kate’s own gaze drops to the blanket covering her legs as she fidgets, “I… I hoped that was the case.”

You swallow hard, “But you still didn’t risk it.”

Kate shakes her head and replies in a soft voice, “No.”

You both sit there in silence for a long moment, neither of you making a move to continue your game before you eventually ask, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you ask them for more proof?”

“I’d already lost track of how long I was there and… I was pretty out of it, I was so hungry and tired, and my throat was aching with thirst, everything hurt and… Because it didn’t matter. If there was even a chance that you could’ve gotten hurt, I wasn’t going to risk it.”

“Kate-”

“You would’ve done the same and you know it.”

“I don’t-”

“How long are we going to skirt around this, Y/N?”

Your gaze flicks up to meet hers and there it is – the looks you’ve been giving her reflected in Kate’s own eyes. The longing, the yearning. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, “I don’t know if now is the right time-”

“I nearly died Y/N. If this isn’t the right time then I don’t know when is.” Kate reaches out and takes your hand in hers, “Please. You know how I feel about you. You saw it.”

“You- You would’ve done that for anyone.”

“Offered to be hurt to spare someone else? Probably, yeah. But I wouldn’t have sold our secrets out like that. Yelena would kick my ass if she knew how quickly I caved.”

“You didn’t cave quickly though. That’s why they knew they needed to change their tactic.” You squeeze her hand, careful not to apply too much pressure in case you accidentally hurt her. “I just don’t understand why they picked me.”

“Because you’re my biggest weakness Y/N, and they knew it. Knew it even before I did. If it had been Clint or Yelena or any other Avenger in that room, I would’ve held onto those secrets, and not because I think you can’t handle your own, but because I just couldn’t risk it. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve called their bluff but you… God, you…”

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you lean forward and kiss her, relief flooding through your veins when she immediately kisses you back. One of your hands cups her cheek, your other arm moving around her waist, making sure to be careful, so careful because Kate’s still hurt and because you’ve waited so long for this, you want it to be gentle, to be loving. It’s everything you could’ve hoped for, and although it’s slow and soft, it’s also full of longing. The longing you’ve both been feeling for so long, finally coming to the surface.

When you pull away, you lean your forehead against hers, “You still shouldn’t have done that.”

“You can tell me off when I’m feeling better.”

“I wish I had healing powers instead of these stupid ones. Seeing you hurt fucking kills me.” You press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I wish I’d been the one to find you.”

“You’re here now. And you know everything and… You didn’t rat me out.” Kate’s eyes are teary and she blinks quickly. “Everyone’s going to be so mad when they find out. I told them so much-”

“It’s fine,” You tell her quietly. “I already told Tony. He said to keep it between us for now, that he’ll figure it out with Fury, but… You were under a lot of pressure Kate. Please don’t feel bad. He’s not mad at you and nobody else needs to know except for us, okay?”

The lie was worth it just to see the relieved expression on Kate’s face.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Kate asks.

You hesitate, “I uh… I’ve actually been assigned a mission that begins tomorrow.”

Another lie. You’d requested a week of last minute personal leave which Tony had granted without question; probably still feeling bad for making you sift through Kate’s memories. You were going to begin your hunt, find those motherfuckers one by one until they were all dead. They’d chosen to use you to get to Kate – you weren’t about to let them get away with that.

Kate looks disappointed and you lean over to press another kiss to her lips, “I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll pick us up some ‘Bad Pizza’ and then we can watch a movie together. Maybe you’ll feel well enough by then to leave the medbay and we could… Maybe we could spend the night in my room.”

Kate feels her cheeks heat up at the thought and she can only nod mutely. It makes you smile and you can’t resist kissing her again.  “Are you mad?”

“About what?” Kate asks breathlessly against your lips.

“That I looked through your memories.”

“I can’t say I’m thrilled,” Kate admits. “But I’m glad it was you.”

“I only looked at the last few weeks,” You mumble in between giving her more quick kisses. “I promise.”

Exhaustion catches up with Kate and you help her lie down, fussing over her pillow, the blanket, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible before kissing her again. Kate gives you a small, drowsy smile as she allows her eyes to close. You sit by her bed, stroking her hair to help her drift off to sleep, your eyes burning as you remember your plan for tomorrow and the next few days.

Wanda’s eyes are already watery as she helps you get dressed into something comfortable that you can move in freely. It’s your first time going to daycare and Wanda had already cried last night and now she’s close to crying again this morning. Not that she’d ever allow herself to do that in front of you. “Look at you,” Wanda says fondly, swallowing back her tears. “My special grown-up girl.” “Yeah, I’m big now, a big girl and I’m going to daycare like a big kid!”

You jump around the room and Wanda grins at your enthusiasm, supposing she should be grateful that you’re taking this so well. Wanda had taken extended maternity leave for the past three years, spending every day looking after you, and this was your first time being away from her or Natasha for an extended period of time. You’re her special girl, her miracle, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous about leaving you in someone else’s care for the day.

Wanda and Natasha had been together for ten years before they realised they both wanted a child. Wanda had known for a while but didn’t want to push Natasha too much, knowing she found the concept of motherhood a difficult one. She’d been thrilled when Natasha had finally told her she was ready, that she wanted a child too. Initially Natasha had wanted to adopt, saying there were so many children looking for a loving home and Wanda had readily agreed, remembering her own difficult childhood of being orphaned young. They’d put forward an application only to be rejected – their careers were too dangerous and they were too high profile. Any child they adopted would be at risk. They’d tried to argue but had been shot down.

Still desperate to be Mothers’, they’d turned to a fertility clinic and Wanda had done everything they’d advised her to do. She’d even looked online for the best foods to eat and what to avoid if you want to fall pregnant. Despite how serious she’d taken it, years had gone by with failure after failure. It had taken a huge toll on their mental health, and Natasha had watched Wanda fall into despair. Natasha wanted to be a mother but she didn’t yearn for it the way that Wanda did. Natasha would be disappointed but would be able to live with that. If Wanda couldn’t have a child, she didn’t know what she would do.

“I can’t give up,” Wanda had sobbed one late night when they’d looked at yet another negative pregnancy test. “I want a child so bad.”

“I know love,” Natasha had said, running her fingers through Wanda’s hair, her head rested in her lap as she sobbed. “I hate seeing you like this though. We can’t go on forever, it’s breaking your heart.”

“One more try,” Wanda had begged. “Just one more, please. And then we can take a break.”

That one more try had resulted in you, their precious baby. As soon as Wanda found out she was pregnant she’d stepped back from her Avengers work, not taking any risks. You were precious cargo as far as she was concerned and she wasn’t going to let anything happen to the baby she’d been hoping and praying for. The moment you’d been born and had been placed in her arms, Wanda had wept tears of joy and relief. Natasha had cried too, pressing a kiss to your head and letting you hold her finger in your tiny hand. You were here, and you were everything that both of them had ever wanted. They could finally stop the fertility treatment and just focus on being your Moms’.

Natasha had returned to work when you were a year old whilst Wanda had decided not to go back to Avengers work until you’d started kindergarten, and even then she would be strict about what she was willing to do. Being away from you overnight was non-negotiable, it wasn’t going to happen. Wanda knew they needed her in the field but that paled in comparison to you. She was your Mom, and you needed her first and foremost. Wanda knew Natasha felt differently and she respected that. Plenty of parents worked whilst raising their children - it just wasn’t how Wanda wanted to do things.

“I think it’d be a good idea if Y/N started doing mornings or something at daycare,” Natasha had suggested one night when she and Wanda were getting ready for bed.

Wanda had whipped around in her seat, her eyes wide, “What? Why?”

Natasha had laughed at the expression on Wanda’s face, pressing a kiss to her wife’s cheek, “I think it’d be better if she got used to spending some time without us now before starting school. And she’s reached an age where she should start spending more time with other children.”

Wanda had looked away, knowing deep down that Natasha was right. You were a sociable child, always stopping to say hello to people in the street, always finding someone to play with when Wanda took you to the park. It would be nice for you to make real friends, friends that you got to spend regular time with, that you could have play dates with. So although it made Wanda anxious, she agreed they could put your name on some waiting lists for local daycares.

A small part of Wanda had hoped it would be a long time until a place become available but one daycare had immediate availability. They’d taken you for a look around and even Wanda couldn’t find anything wrong with it. There was a good staff to child ratio, the room was bright with plenty of toys, and you’d been happy to join in with the story time. They’d met the woman who would be your key worker and she’d been lovely, starting an instant rapport with you. Wanda knew it was the perfect daycare and they were lucky a place was available.

This morning she didn’t feel lucky though as you bounced around the room excitedly. Wanda suddenly scoops you up into her arms and presses kiss after kiss to your face, beaming when you giggle. “Mommy loves you so much.”

“Love you too Mommy!” You reply loudly, kissing her cheek in return.

“Let’s go find Mama and have some breakfast,” Wanda says positively, bouncing you in her arms. “And then we’ll go to daycare for your first day!”

It takes a while for the three of you to leave. You’re too excited to eat breakfast so Natasha has to keep coaxing you back to the table. After Wanda’s put your shoes on she decides she wants a photo and thus begins the photo shoot that always ensues. Photos of just you, photos of you with Natasha, photos of you with Wanda, photos of you with both of them, some with the phone propped on the bookshelf, some selfies. As their only child, both Natasha and Wanda love documenting absolutely every achievement or stage in your life.

You sing excitedly in the backseat the whole way to the daycare. Natasha smiles at you in the rear-view mirror whilst Wanda stares out the window, trying to hide her growing anxiety. It takes everything within Wanda not to burst into tears when they pull up outside the daycare, and she gets out the car quickly so that she can be the one to hold you as they carry you into the welcoming building.

Your key worker is waiting inside and had already told Natasha and Wanda to keep their goodbyes quick and brief so that you wouldn’t get too upset. Wanda sets you down on your feet and gives you a small smile, trying to ignore her tear-filled eyes, “Okay baby girl. Me and Mama are going to say goodbye now then we’ll both be back this afternoon to pick you up.”

Natasha had taken the day off work, partly to be here for you, but mostly to support Wanda who she knew would struggle with a morning all to herself for the first time in three years. Natasha kneels down next to Wanda and kisses your cheek, “Be a good girl, okay? We love you so much.”

“Wait…” You say quietly, your own eyes starting to water. “You’re… You’re not staying here with me?”

Wanda and Natasha exchange a glance, and Natasha gives you a reassuring smile, “No baby, daycare is just for kids. But you’re going to make friends and sing songs and listen to stories. It’s going to be really fun and me and Mommy will be back here at-”

Natasha is cut off by the sound of you bursting into noisy tears, and Wanda immediately pulls you into her arms, rubbing a reassuring hand up and down your back. Wanda feels awful for not explaining properly – had she not mentioned you’d be alone? Maybe she should’ve talked with you about it a bit more. She glances tearfully at Natasha and mumbles, “We can’t leave her here.”

Natasha’s own eyes are watering at how upset you are but she shakes her head, “It’s for her own good Wands. Of course she’s going to be upset but we can’t… We shouldn’t…”

Her voice is uncertain as she watches the way you cling to Wanda like a little Octopus. You’ve always been a little clingy, something Wanda secretly loved. Always wanting cuddles, reassurance, to be held, to be in either Natasha or Wanda’s lap. They’d both been naïve to think this separation would be easy.

Your key worker, Moira, comes over and kneels down, realising it’s going to be difficult for Natasha and Wanda to separate from you when you’re so distraught. “The first day is always the hardest,” She says kindly. “There are usually a lot of tears for the first couple of weeks until they get used to the routine.”

Natasha nods whilst Wanda keeps her arms around you protectively, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “What should we do?” Natasha eventually asks.

Moira gives her a reassuring smile then addresses you, “Hey Y/N. Do you want to come and pick out the book for morning story time? Since it’s your first day you get to pick.”

Your interest is slowly piqued and you look up from Wanda’s chest though your little hands still cling to her jacket. Wanda exchanges a tearful glance with Moira, seeing the angle she’s going for. “Yeah, you like a story, don’t you?” Wanda says in the most positive voice she can manage, her voice cracking slightly.

You look uncertainly at Moira then at Natasha who gives you an encouraging smile, “Go on Sweetheart. You can choose a book, it’s okay.”

Moira holds out her hand and you hesitantly let go of Wanda, taking Moira’s hand in your own. The key worker gives them both a reassuring smile and begins leading you into the daycare towards the bookshelf. Natasha stands up, her voice shaking, “We should go now while she’s distracted. If we stay longer it’s only going to upset her.”

Wanda hesitates, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she watches you walking away from her. It takes everything in her not to cross the room and lift you back up into your arms, and take you home where she can keep you safe. But she knows that everything Natasha has said about you going to daycare is right. You need to do this, need the independence and the socialising aspect. So although it breaks Wanda’s heart she stands up and lets Natasha lead her out of the daycare.

Just as they’ve left, you look back over your shoulder, your face crumpling when you realise Natasha and Wanda are gone. You’d thought they would stay for story time like they had at the taster session and you open your mouth and begin to scream as you realise they’re not there. Moira lifts you into her own arms to try and comfort you, and you cry loudly, calling desperately for your Moms’ and sobbing even more when they don’t come back for you.

Wanda spends all morning checking the daycare app for updates. About an hour after they dropped you off there’s an update to say that you enjoyed story time, along with a photo of you sitting with the other kids. You look a little overwhelmed but generally settled so Wanda relaxes. You have a snack, then a nap, and then do some painting. Natasha looks over Wanda’s shoulder to check the updates too and smiles, kissing her cheek, “See? She’s absolutely fine.”

Natasha would never admit it but she’d been worrying too, and had had a little cry of her own in the bathroom when they got home. She had to be strong for Wanda but it was hitting her harder than she’d initially thought too.

Wanda is relieved when it’s finally time to pick you up and she rushes into the daycare centre, holding her arms out when she spots you, “Y/N!”

You look over, immediately bursting into tears when you spot your Moms’. You run over into Wanda’s arms, throwing your arms around her neck. “Mommy, you left me all by myself!” You wail accusingly.

Wanda peppers your teary cheek in little kisses and then whispers, “I know baby, I’m sorry. You had a good day though, didn’t you?”

“I missed you!” You whine in the way only a little kid can manage.

Moira gives Natasha and Wanda a knowing smile, telling them quietly, “She was tearful for the first half-an-hour and then calmed down. We had a good morning and she had a nice time. It looks like she even made some friends. It’ll get easier as time goes on, I promise.”

Wanda nods, lifting you up into her arms. Although she’s glad that you had a good morning and you weren’t upset the entire time you were apart, she’s even gladder that you’re back in her arms where you belong. You pout as they carry you back out to the car, “You left me Mommy!”

“I did but I’ll always come back for you,” Wanda reassures you, kissing your cheek again as she straps you into your car seat. “You’re my special girl and I love you so much.”

“And so do I!” Natasha calls from the driver’s seat, starting the engine. “You were such a brave girl today, how’s about we go and get some ice cream to celebrate?”

You immediately perk up at the thought of ice cream, your betrayal immediately forgotten. Wanda also brightens as she sees the happy look on your face. Natasha drives to an ice-cream parlour that the three of you frequent regularly, and then she lifts you up so you can see all the flavours on display. You spend a long time choosing but neither of them rushes you, letting you have this as a special treat.

The rest of the day passes without incident but at bedtime, when Wanda closes the story she’d been reading you, you mumble worriedly, “Mommy? Do I have to go back to daycare tomorrow?”

“No,” Wanda says, running a hand over your head. “You’ll spend tomorrow with me. But the day after that you’ll go back to daycare for the morning.” Wanda feels her chest tighten at the worried look on your face, realising that this schedule might be confusing to you given how young you are. “You had fun, didn’t you?”

“Yes but I would rather stay at home with you.”

Wanda smiles, watching your little brow furrow as you try to process all the big emotions you felt today. “Tell you what,” Wanda says. “Why don’t you come and sleep in the big bed with me and Mama tonight?”

Your eyes light up and you nod without hesitation, unable to believe your luck at having two treats in one day. Wanda lifts you out of your bed and carries you through to the bedroom she shares with Natasha, shooting her wife a look when she laughs at her. “Y/N’s sleeping in here tonight,” Wanda says defensively, tucking you into their bed.

Natasha climbs in on your other side, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I didn’t say a word. I love cuddles with my little girl.”

Wanda strokes her fingers over your forehead, a relaxing gesture that she’s done for years, “There we go. Nice and warm in Mommy and Mama’s bed.”

Ava is so lost in her training that she doesn’t realise until it’s too late that she’s going to bump into Yelena. Her shoulder bumps against the blonde’s and she opens her mouth to apologise but it’s too late. “Watch what you’re doing!” Yelena snaps, grabbing her towel and storming out of the gym.

Ava looks at Bucky who simply shrugs his shoulders. For the past week Yelena has been so irritable that the other New Avengers have found it easier to just try and avoid her. In the gym Yelena works out alone, not approaching any of the others to see if they want to spar with her, and feeling relieved that they don’t ask her in return. Yelena spends most evenings in her room, and on the few occasions she’s forced to come out she’s irritable and short-tempered. John had seriously thought she was going to hit Val when she’d come to visit yesterday.

“When is Y/N going to come and visit again?” Alexei had asked at dinner last night, apparently not picking up on Yelena’s dark mood as she picked lifelessly at her food. “We haven’t seen them for a while. They’re good for you Yelena, they-”

Alexei had missed Ava’s wide eyes and pointed raised eye-brows – he probably would’ve missed a neon sign if she’d held one up. Yelena had glared at him and stood up abruptly from the table, scraping her chair harshly against the floor before stalking back to her room. Alexei had looked at Ava, his eye-brows creased with worry, “What did I say?”

“I think she’s in a bad mood because she fell out with Y/N,” Ava replied pointedly. “Y/N seemed pretty upset when they came round last weekend.”

“They asked me whether I’d hung out with Yelena that evening,” John said. When Ava just stared at him he shrugged his shoulders, “Just thought it might be relevant.”

“We should just leave them to it,” Bucky had said. “I don’t think Yelena will appreciate us poking our noses in her business.”

Now Yelena sits in her room, scrolling through your instagram account. You don’t post an awful lot, and Yelena had requested that you never post her – she’d said for security reasons but the truth was that Yelena hated how she looked in photos. Once you’d taken a candid photo of her at the zoo on one of your first dates, a photo that Yelena had begged you to delete but you’d grinned and shaken your head, eventually setting that photo as your phone lock screen. Yelena wishes she’d let you take more photos of the two of you, more physical proof of the time you’d spent together.

She stops on her favourite photo of you – a photo of you in the middle of a table surrounded by your friends, holding a cocktail up in the air, mid-laugh. You’d told Yelena it was your birthday, that your friends had organised a surprise birthday meal for you. Yelena has never celebrated her birthday before – maybe she did when she was young but she can’t really remember. As an adult she knows she could celebrate but now she feels weird and self-conscious about it. None of the other Avengers had made big deals of their own birthdays. John had met up with some old army friends for drinks but he was the only one who’d done anything at all to mark the occasion. None of them had exchanged cards or gifts or had a birthday cake.

Yelena opens up her messages, finding the very last message she’d sent to you. ‘Didn’t realise it started at seven, sorry. Not feeling great anyway so probably best if I give it a miss. See you soon, have fun!’

Why had she lied? Of course you’d seen right through it, it was one bullshit excuse too many and Yelena cringes as she remembers you standing in the doorway to the living room. How she’d known immediately that you were angry but she’d held out her arms, hoping you’d come over and she could hold you until you weren’t anymore. That you’d let Yelena make it up to you in a different way and then maybe she’d eventually tell you the truth.

Her fingers hesitate over the keyboard as she considers messaging you, not for the first time. It’s been a week now, surely that’s enough time for you to have cooled off, to be willing to hear her out. Yelena had noticed your hesitancy when she’d asked you to leave last weekend. If Yelena could only work up the courage to ask you to meet up with her then you would probably agree. She begins to type before quickly deleting everything and throwing her phone down onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. All of the tabloids called Yelena brave – they often called her reckless and wild too, but brave always stuck out to her. Because Yelena knows she’s not brave, not really. Not when it actually counts.

Your heart leapt into your chest as you saw the ‘typing’ bubble pop up on your phone. You’d also been staring at your message thread with Yelena, winding yourself up when you’d reread her old excuses. Some of the messages in the chat had been sweet, and some had been funny. It made you want to laugh and cry all at the same time. Despite your irritation when you’d reread the last message she’d sent you, it hadn’t stopped your heart soaring when you thought she was finally going to message you. You watched the bubble disappear and your heart sank again.

You’ve been just as miserable as Yelena for the past week. On Sunday you’d been a bit of a hypocrite, cancelling plans you’d had with your friends, telling them that you felt unwell. It hadn’t been entirely untrue. You’d struggled to eat for the past few days, struggled to do anything except for lie in your bed and cry. Part of you is glad that you stood your ground, that you didn’t let Yelena mess you or your friends around – the other part just misses her desperately.

You want to text her. To meet up with her, to kiss her, to tuck her hair behind her ear, to laugh with her, to touch her, to feel her touch you… But then you reread that message she sent, remember the way you’d broken down in the bathroom in your friend’s house when you’d realised that once again that she was letting you down. You imagine yourself a year from now sitting in an apartment that the two of you would share together, waiting for her to come home, not knowing where she is, being constantly let down. There are a lot of things you can ignore, that you’d be willing to put up with, but this isn’t one of them.

You roll onto your side, willing the ‘typing’ bubble to pop up again despite yourself. It doesn’t.

On Monday, eight days after you and Yelena had broken up; you don’t have much choice but to go into work. You’d called out sick all of last week, not wanting to face anyone, not wanting to tell anyone that you and Yelena had broken up. Luckily work was so busy today that you didn’t have any time to chat with your colleagues anyway. A friend asked if you wanted to get a drink after work but you text back to say another time. This week you would face work. Next week you would face socialising again.

By the time you get back to your apartment you’re exhausted. You flick on the light and nearly jump out of your skin when you find Yelena sitting on your couch, a bottle of vodka in her hand as she looks up at you, her eyes red. “Hey,” Yelena says flatly.

You open and close your mouth a few times before looking around the living room and then bursting irritably, “What the fuck Yelena? Did you break into my apartment?”

“Everyone always asks that,” Yelena says, taking a swig from the vodka bottle before looking at you again. “No. I did not break anything. I did gain access to the apartment though.”

“How?”

“I am highly trained.”

Your joy at finally seeing her again is tarred with irritation and worry. Irritation because why couldn’t she just call or ring the bell like a normal person? Worry because Yelena clearly wasn’t doing well. You fold your arms, “I thought you were trying to drink less.”

“If I hadn’t drank this I wouldn’t have had the courage to come here. It’s hard being a coward. They don’t think an Avenger can be a coward but they can.”

Her words aren’t slurred but what gives away how drunk she is, is the volume of her voice. Loud but in a way where you can tell she’s trying her best to be quieter, though not quite managing it. “You’re a lot of things Yelena but you’re not a coward.”

“I am though,” Yelena says. “You threatened to leave and I let you because it was easier.”

You hesitate, “Easier than what?”

“Than telling you that- Fuck, telling you I’m a coward. It’s all because I’m a- For fucks sake.”

You sit down next to her on the couch, plucking the bottle out of her hand and placing it on the floor before reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. You’d missed doing that. Yelena instantly curls into your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting her head on your chest. You can’t help tucking her head beneath your chin and holding her in return. “I thought you were going to text me.”

“I nearly did, so many times. There were so many things that I wanted to say.”

“Say them now then,” You reply softly. “You were brave enough to come all this way, don’t let it go to waste.” When Yelena only groans in response, you smile, “I’m not looking at you. You can say anything and I’ll just listen.”

Yelena closes her eyes, taking a moment to savour being in your arms again. Despite everything she’d done and how mad you’d been, you’d still held her without hesitation. It makes Yelena’s heart ache as she realises just how much she’s missed you. Her voice cracks as she quietly admits, “That night… I wasn’t feeling unwell. I didn’t lose track of time.”

“I thought as much,” You say in an even voice. “Tell me what really happened.”

Yelena hesitates before mumbling reluctantly, “You once told me that getting along with your friends was a deal-breaker.”

“Yeah but I just meant- I only meant that my friends are important to me. I didn’t mean I would break up with you on the spot if they didn’t like you. And it would depend on why they didn’t like you.” You sigh heavily, your fingers starting to run through her hair. “Disrespecting their time is a big one, that’s a deal-breaker.”

Yelena cringes, her nose scrunching up as she remembers. “I know-”

“And it doesn’t explain all the other times you cancelled on me or turned up late or just-”

“Gah, I know!” Yelena says, opening her eyes to look up at you. “I don’t have an excuse Y/N. Not one good enough for why I was such a shit girlfriend. It’s just…” Yelena looks away, her eyes watering. “I worry.”

“Worry about what?”

“About… Us. Y/N, I have never dated anyone before. I spent my whole life not allowing myself close to anyone because if I did, the Red Room turned it against me. My first friend, they… They made me lure her out into the woods, they knew, and it was me or her and I- I chose- She was so small and she trusted me, God, she trusted me.”

Yelena is crying openly now and you pull her into your lap. Whatever went down between you both, you still care about her and her sobs are breaking your heart. “Yelena, I-”

“It’s a bullshit excuse, I know it is. But I kept having these nightmares where people realised how much I care about you, people who would do anything to get back at me. I’ve done bad things Y/N, things I never told you about and I have enemies, probably more enemies than I realise.” Yelena sobs harder. “Whenever we arranged to meet up in public I kept imagining someone seeing us together, following you home… I couldn’t shake the thoughts no matter what I did.”

“Yelena, it- I can take care of myself you know. I carry around pepper spray-”

“I love you but baby, no; you can’t take care of yourself, not against the kind of people I know. They can get in and out without you even knowing they were coming until it was too late.”

You can’t argue with her logic. Yelena had gotten into your apartment without disturbing a thing. If she’d wanted to kill you, it wouldn’t have been difficult for her at all.

“I’d get anxious and I’d over think and I’d be in the bathroom panicking, and in the end it was often easier to just… Cancel.”

You lean back on the couch, your fingers still running through Yelena’s hair. Part of you understands what she’s saying and the anxiety she must be feeling. The way she’s sobbing makes you believe her words, that these aren’t just empty excuses. But despite that… “Lena, I can’t… Be with someone who messes me around like that.”

“I didn’t want to mess you around though, don’t you get that?”

“Maybe you didn’t want to but you did. And I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I get why you’re worried, I totally get it. But I want to go to cute cafes with you, to the beach, to the movie theatre, to the arcade. I want to go on long walks and hold hands and go out on proper dates with you. I want you to meet my friends because I know they’d love you. And if you’re telling me that you’re too scared to do any of that… Then I don’t know where we’re supposed to go.”

Your arms are still tight around Yelena, your hand still in her hair. Yelena doesn’t move and she doesn’t say anything either. For a long moment you just sit there, holding her in your arms. No, you don’t know what the solution is. But you know you don’t want to let her go either.

Yelena clearly shares your sentiment as she mumbles, “Don’t let me go.”

“Lena-”

“I don’t know what the solution is either but I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to get up off your lap just please… Please just hold me.”

It’s probably a bad idea but Yelena is too drunk right now to go anywhere anyway. You kiss the top of her head and mumble, “Okay.”

Yelena lets out a relieved sigh, nuzzling more comfortably into your arms and you sigh too, shifting so she can relax. You’re still not sure this is going to work long-term. You don’t want to be ruled by Yelena’s fear but you also don’t want her to go through this level of anxiety alone. Yelena had opened up to you before, telling you about her drinking problems, her loneliness. How the New Avengers had given her a sense of purpose she hadn’t had in years. Obviously she still had a lot to work through.

You take a sip of water in the green room, having just finished checking that you’re camera ready when you suddenly feel arms around your waist. “So… Are you excited to be interviewing the greatest movie star of all time?”

You smile, not turning around yet, “Oh I didn’t realise Meryl Streep was here, I’ve been dying to meet her.”

Natasha laughs and squeezes your waist, “Idiot.”

“You’re not meant to be back here, someone might see-”

“No one here would rat us out. Besides, I had to get some proper time in with my favourite person before the cameras roll.”

You finally turn to face her, giving her a small smile as you roll your eyes, “You say that you like you didn’t wake up in my bed this morning. Like I won’t be all over you again the moment the cameras are off and we’re home.”

Natasha kisses you before grinning against your lips, “I want every second I can get.”

You laugh, tucking a strand of her bright red hair behind her ear. You’d known Natasha for a long time, back when she was an Avenger. In those days you’d been more of an investigative journalist, and your boss had been pushing for an Anti-Avengers story. You’d been granted clearance for a tour of the compound and then to interview some of the Avengers. Natasha had been your favourite – she’d clocked your angle immediately, and had been sullen and difficult throughout the conversation. That night you’d promptly quit your job and then asked Natasha out on a date.

Not long after you got a job for a magazine that specialised in published and video interviews of celebrities. You’d quickly climbed the ranks, being offered the most high profile jobs, interviewing the most famous celebrities. Around the same time Natasha had been looking for a career change – the Red Room had been taken down and the endless fights had taken a toll on Natasha’s mental health. So she’d decided to try acting, and had quickly realised she had a talent for it, landing amazing opportunities. It was hard to remember that Natasha had once been an Avenger, everyone these days knew her from her movies.

Throughout it all the two of you had continued to date whilst both of your careers had blown up in different directions. You were the one who’d wanted to keep your relationship a secret. “People will start gossiping about how I only got my job because of you,” You’d said, intertwining your fingers with hers. “Besides, it might not look great for your career if you’re dating a peasant like me.”

“Oh shut up,” Natasha had snapped though she couldn’t help laughing. “Nobody would think that. And nobody would think twice about the fact we’re together, I mean look at you, you’re gorgeous-”

“Not as gorgeous as you,” You’d countered quickly, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“And besides, anyone who bothered to fact check would see that you got your job first. And you’re good at it. If anything, you might’ve given me my job-”

“I just want to keep it a secret for a while. If that’s okay.”

Natasha had sighed, pressing kisses to your neck and mumbling about how she hated keeping you a secret but had conceded. You understood her hesitance – Natasha had had so many secrets across the course of her life, of course she was fed up of the lies and the sneaking around. But she was still willing to respect your wishes.

The relationship had remained a secret for two years now. You’d both been on countless dates, moved in together, gone on romantic vacations together, even talked about getting married one day, and nobody but the two of you and a select few close friends had any idea. Tabloids had speculated about Natasha’s dating life before but had their suspicions had never landed on you, usually on co-stars or sometimes even people that Natasha had never met before. It made her laugh but admittedly, it made you a little jealous – the thought of someone else being with your girl.

It was easier in moments like this when Natasha’s arms were around you, her attention was on you and her lips were on yours. Natasha’s PA calls out the five minute warning but Natasha is in no hurry as she kisses you again. “I was thinking we could get sushi tonight. Stay in and watch a movie. I have an early flight in the morning but I might just push through, get some sleep on the plane. I want to spend every minute possible with you.”

Natasha was in the midst of promoting her movie and was flying to Europe in the morning. You didn’t want her to go, her promotions always felt like they went on for months, and then she’d often get shipped off to random locations to film her movies. Sometimes you could go with her but more often than not you couldn’t as your work was solely based in New York. The thought of her leaving again makes you feel a mixture of sad and irritable, but the promise of sushi and cuddles on the couch late into the night instantly make you feel better. “That sounds good to me.”

You reach out to touch her hair again, biting back the words you want to say. About how you’ll miss her, about how you wish she didn’t have to go but that you’re so proud of her for leaving her old life behind, for how successful she’s become. Instead you just kiss her again and she smiles when you pull back, “I know. I’ll miss you too.”

Your own PA calls out your name this time and you glance over your shoulder before looking back at Natasha, “Looks like it’s show time.”

“Why can’t we just tell everyone we’re dating? It’s been two years; it’s starting to get weird.”

You take her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, “Soon. I promise.”

“Y/N!” Your PA’s voice has taken on a sharper tone.

You kiss Natasha’s knuckles and it makes her grin just as it always does, “Love you.”

“Love you too idiot. Let’s do this.”

Five minutes later you’re forced to pretend to introduce yourself to Natasha, something that you can tell irritates her a little bit but she doesn’t say anything. Along with Natasha are her two co-stars Skylar and Will. You’d met Skylar last year when she was promoting a different movie and the two of you hug like old friends. When you introduce yourself to Will he barely looks up from his phone to acknowledge you. Not too surprising from the stories you’d heard from Natasha about his attitude on set but irritating nonetheless. You’ve met celebrities like him before, who seem to think they’re above you and everyone else, just because they’d been lucky enough to shoot to fame.

Will eventually puts his phone away as the interview begins, and you immediately jump into professional mode, ignoring the fact that you and Natasha are dating. It’s irrelevant right now as you focus on the questions you’d researched the night before. You took pride in that aspect of your job, making sure you had relevant questions about whatever your interviewee was promoting but also personal touches to make it more interesting for your audience.

Natasha is every bit as professional as you are, leaning back in her chair and answering all your questions confidently without being overly familiar. It makes your chest swell with love, to see that even though she’s not keen on keeping this a secret; she’s willing to do it for you. Skylar is funny as usual, just as bubbly and energetic as you remember, always a treat to interview. Will is quiet at first, not offering much up – you hadn’t expected anything more from someone who clearly thought he was above all of this.

“Is there anything in this movie that we should watch out for, that fans should be particularly excited about?” You ask.

“This one,” Will suddenly says, his finger moving to run up and down Natasha’s arm in a way that makes you pause, your eyes narrowing as you take in the slow, suggestive movement. “I mean, when you have an ex-Avenger in an action movie, there’s always going to be something special about that.”

“Can you elaborate?” And also get your hands off my girlfriend, you want to add.

“Well Natasha is a legend in the industry already, especially when it comes to doing her own stunts. She makes a real point of it and it’s incredible to see the things that she can do.” Will gives Natasha a look, biting his bottom lip, “And she’s very flexible if you know what I mean.”

Your hand clenches into a fist and the questions written on the paper in front of you suddenly blur as you’re blinded by an irritable rage. Who does this cocky asshole think he is? He might be playing Natasha’s love interest but that’s only in the movie. Natasha says nothing, twitching her hair over her shoulder in the hopes it will get Will’s hand off her arm but it doesn’t seem to do the trick.

“And what do you think of the criticism from fans online that there isn’t much chemistry between you and Natasha to make the romance scenes believable?” You suddenly blurt.

Will raises his eye-brows whilst Natasha and Skylar share a glance. “I wasn’t aware of any criticism from fans,” Will eventually says evenly.

“There have definitely been some… Thoughts.” You reply in your most professional voice.

“Well I would say that they don’t need to worry. Natasha is an amazing woman and the sparks flew between us pretty much instantly. Our scenes will speak for themselves but we’re as close off screen as we are on screen.”

“Really? Because I heard a rumour that she had to try and calm you down at the wrap party when you threw a tantrum about the-”

“Y/N,” Your PA says sharply. “Maybe we should take a break?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Will snaps the moment the cameras stop rolling. “All of that is being cut. I’m speaking to my agent, this is-”

You never hear what it is because you climb out of your seat and head back to the green room, running a stressed hand over your face. Natasha follows after you, not caring who sees her, “Y/N-”

“Don’t. I already know I fucked up, but that asshole just got under my skin, okay?”

“Y/N, it’s all pretend. You know I don’t like Will anymore than you do but-”

“I know, but he still had no right to be all over you like that.”

Natasha puts her hand on your arm, “Why has this bothered you so much?”

“Why did it bother me? Because you’re mine, Nat!” You burst. “And I don’t mean to sound like a creepy, possessive, controlling piece of shit but you’re my girl and I love you and I can’t stand seeing that assholes hands on you, talking about you right in front of my face as if he knows you better than me. He doesn't, he has no fucking idea.”

You expect Natasha to be irritated but to your surprise when you finally work up the courage to meet her gaze she’s smiling. “What?”

“Baby, you’re the one who wanted to keep this a secret. Will has no idea I’m dating you, neither does Skylar. In fact, they have no idea that I’m dating anyone. Of course I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, and I’ve always wanted everyone to know that.” You fold your arms and Natasha wraps her arms around your waist, “I can’t shove him off me in the middle of an interview no matter how much I’d like to-”

“Of course you can-”

“No, I can’t, because the producers and the higher ups want us to look like we actually like each other. I can certainly give him Hell once the cameras are off but when they’re rolling I have to smile and play the part. You know that.”

You look down, still irritated, “Well, I still think he’s an asshole.”

“Of course he is. And I’m not going to let him get away with that little stunt but-” Natasha grins again, having to bite her lip to hold back her laugh. “That was kind of cute how protective you got back there.”

You groan, “It was embarrassing!”

“I want the video footage of this. I know they’ll never let you air it but I want it. For personal reasons.”

“That footage is never seeing the light of day.”

You let yourself relax in her embrace, wrapping your own arms around her as Natasha kisses your cheek. “I’m yours. Always have been, always will be. Okay?”

You nod, leaning your forehead against hers and mumbling, “Okay.”

It was your eighth birthday when you’d first realised. You’d woken up to the sounds of your Moms’ singing Happy Birthday, and their voices had floated into your twin brother’s room. You’d clambered out of bed to join them, and they’d included your name in the song but they’d both sat on your brother’s bed, either side of him whilst you’d sat cross-legged on the floor.

Your eyes were bright with excitement and anticipation. You’d been begging your Moms’ for a tamagotchi and a games console for the past month – you weren’t even fussy about which kind of console. Something handheld like a Nintendo DS, or maybe a PlayStation or an XBOX. You had a handful of games on the family computer that you and your twin brother would often play, but you wanted the opportunity to expand your gaming library. One of your friends at school had a PlayStation which you thought was the coolest thing ever but you’d have been happy with any of them.

Brandon always got to open his presents first and he’d been bellyaching for a skateboard which was the first thing he opened, shrieking with excitement. Your Moms’ eyes had lit up, and Wanda had taken photo after photo of him. Your hands had ran over your brightly wrapped presents, tired of waiting for your turn, but Brandon still had other gifts to open. He’d opened new sneakers, a football, action figures, books, and finally, a PlayStation. Your mouth had fallen open and your excitement had risen – if Brandon had got a games console, you must have one too!

Finally it was your turn and you’d beamed, ripping the paper from your presents, your face falling slightly as you stared at them all. Two new books, a Barbie, a wristwatch and a delicate necklace with your initial. No gaming console, no tamagotchi. You’d looked towards the PlayStation on Brandon’s bed, asking quietly, “Is… Is that for both of us?”

“No, it’s Brandon’s,” Natasha had said, surprised. “He’s the one with a TV in his room. Maybe he’ll let you play too if you ask nicely though.”

You’d looked between your presents and your brothers. He was too excited with his own gifts to look your way, to acknowledge your own lacklustre pile. It wasn’t like you minded reading but these books were bright with unicorns on the cover – your favourite series was about a kid detective, you liked mysteries and adventures. These were generic ‘girl books’, picked at random, nothing to do with your actual interests. You didn’t have much of a sense of monetary value but it was clear even to you that your Moms’ had spent double, maybe even triple on your brother than they had on you.

Wanda took another photo of Brandon and that was when you realised she hadn’t taken a photo of you, not once. Natasha’s attention had already turned from you back to Brandon, beaming at him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Wanda wished him a Happy Birthday again and you watched, your bottom lip trembling and your eyes watering. Nobody noticed how upset you were.

“Why don’t we go for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory after school?” Wanda suggested.

Your brother had cheered; The Cheesecake Factory was his favourite whilst yours was Panda Express. There was no discussion of what to do or where to go, as if it wasn’t even your birthday too. For breakfast your Moms’ asked Brandon what he wanted for breakfast, but nobody asked you. It occurred to you then, that your Moms’ never asked you. Not just on your birthday but all year round. Your opinion was never considered, never even asked for. Brandon’s was, and you were expected to go with the flow.

That was the first time you’d truly realised that your Mom’s had a preference for your twin brother. But once you’d noticed, it was hard to stop seeing it every single day.

Over the years you realised that your brother’s achievements were celebrated, whilst yours were brushed over. If Brandon got an A, his test was displayed on the fridge, and Wanda would make her famous cookies, letting him have the first pick. If you got an A, Natasha would ruffle your hair and Wanda would say ‘well done’. When Brandon made the football team, your Moms’ had taken the two of you out for dinner at Texas Roadhouse, his new favourite place as his tastes changed. When a story you’d written had won a prize, you’d got the same ruffle of your hair and Wanda’s quiet ‘well done’.

It wasn’t just their reactions – they drove Brandon to football practice every Saturday, swimming on a Thursday, and guitar lessons on a Tuesday. You’d asked if you could learn the piano and had been told they’d ‘look into it’ only for lessons to never materialise. Sometimes you’d go downstairs and you’d find them all in the living room, having a ‘family movie night’ that you hadn’t been invited to. One time you’d even been left behind on a trip to Yellowstone and it had taken them an hour to return to collect you.

As you grew older your brother generally had more achievements than you. Brandon was the quarterback of the football team, achieved straight A’s, had a sensible girlfriend that your Moms’ loved. There was always something to celebrate.  You just about scraped passing grades, generally cruised for life laying low, flying under the radar.

What was the point in getting angry though? It wouldn’t change anything.

You’d tried to get your Moms’ attention after that disastrous eighth birthday. That night at the Cheesecake Factory you’d asked Natasha if you could have dinner at Panda Express the following evening, and she’d given you a look. “We’re out for dinner tonight for your birthday treat, we don’t need to go out again tomorrow. Don’t be so ungrateful.”

Once you’d gotten home, you’d picked up one of your new books and had shown Wanda. “Mom, will you read to me before I go to sleep?”

“You’re eight now Sweetheart,” Wanda had laughed, ruffling your hair. “I think you’re plenty old enough to read quietly by yourself before bed.”

You’d been so tired. After the Cheesecake Factory the four of you had gone to the local park so Brandon could try out his new skateboard. Your Moms’ had beamed and laughed while they watched him, taking even more photos. You’d found another girl to play with but it had been boring – you wanted to be at home, playing with the games console you’d been hoping to receive. If you’d been given a tamagotchi, you could’ve at least played with that while Brandon had messed around on his stupid skateboard.

What made your Moms’ lack of interest in you even harder was that you weren’t close to Brandon. Over the years Wanda had told you stories of how close she’d been to her own twin brother, the uncle that neither of you had gotten to meet. How they’d protected each other after their parents had died. In all media you’d seen with twins, they were the same – inseparable, making up their own secret languages, looking after each other.

It had been okay when you were really little. Brandon had been your playmate and the two of you had gotten up to adventures, played games at the family computer together, he’d let you sneak into his room for midnight feasts. But Brandon was outgoing and sociable whilst you were more reserved, and when he’d started school he’d gained a whole heap of friends whilst you hadn’t. He’d pulled away from you without a backwards glance.

Whenever your Moms’ had to go away for missions, Brandon would go and stay at a friend’s house, not contacting you at all, even when you messaged him to say you were worried about them, that you were terrified something was going to happen to them. When you’d been bullied at school, Brandon had looked the other way, pretending he didn’t even know you. At thirteen, you’d tried to tentatively bring up the difference in how the two of you were treated and he’d snapped at you. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Moms’ love us exactly the same. You’re always doing this, trying to be the centre of attention; it’s getting old Y/N.”

Your best friend, Cassie, often fumed about it, “Why wouldn’t you give him hell? Everything has always been about him and he has the nerve to say shit like that? Why wouldn’t you give him a piece of your mind?”

You’d shrugged your shoulders, “Why waste my energy? He’ll never agree and neither will my Moms’.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that your Moms’ loved you. You supposed they must, even if they liked Brandon more, but the hardest part was realising that they didn’t know you at all. Your eighth birthday had been one example but at every turn, they proved that they didn’t know you very well. When you told them both that you were thinking of applying to do creative writing at college, Wanda had glanced at you. “I didn’t know you liked writing.”

“Well, yeah,” You’d said quietly. “I won that prize for that short story I wrote, remember?”

“You did?” Natasha asked. “That’s… Well done.”

You’d clenched and unclenched your fists, swallowing hard. “Anyway, I was gonna apply to California College of the Arts.”

Part of you had hoped there would be a discussion about how far that would be from home. How you could go if you wanted to but that they’d miss you, that you should call at least once a week, and that they’d make provisions for you to come back for the holidays. Natasha had carried on as if you hadn’t said anything whilst Wanda had simply asked, “Did you look into scholarships?”

“Yeah, I submitted some of my work to them. I’m just waiting to hear back.” Neither of your Moms’ replied and you swallowed hard again. “It’ll be weird. Being so far from home.”

“You’ve always been pretty independent,” Natasha said. “You’ll be absolutely fine.”

‘I had no choice but to be independent!’ You’d wanted to snap. But what would be the point? Life isn’t a movie, you’d realised a long time ago. There would never be a moment where they realised how badly they treated you compared to Brandon, would never be a moment where they gathered you into their arms and reassured you that they loved you just as much as him, that things would change from now. It just simply wasn’t going to happen.

“Besides, you can come whenever you want.” Wanda had said. That had lifted your spirits somewhat until she’d added, “If you can afford the airfare. You thinking of getting a part-time job while you study?”

“Yeah…” You mumbled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

When you’d received the confirmation of your scholarship, Natasha had ruffled her hair and Wanda had said that usual ‘well done’. Brandon got a party at the compound when the confirmation of his own placement at Columbia University came through.

You’d watched from the sidelines, feeling lonelier than ever when Tony had suddenly sidled up, handing you an envelope. “What’s this?”

“Congratulations on California. Consider this a going away gift.”

Your eyes had widened when you’d spotted the cheque inside the envelope. “Tony… I can’t accept this…”

“Of course you can. I’m your rich Uncle, I won’t miss it. You’ll need money at college for books and food and rent and well… I think golden boy over there will be getting far more financial help from home than you.”

You’d glanced over at Brandon and then at Tony, wondering how much he’d noticed over the years. For a moment you’d felt angry, annoyed that someone had noticed the difference between your treatment and hadn’t intervened, had never said anything to your mothers. Why was he telling you? Of course you’d noticed. None of the Avengers had ever really bothered with you; a lot of them often seemed surprised to find that Natasha and Wanda had a daughter, that your brother had a twin sister, even though all of them had met you multiple times. But then you’d seen the small smile on his face and the sad look in his eyes, and you’d realised that he felt bad. That this cheque was the peace offering – and you weren’t exactly in a position to turn it down.

“Thanks Tony,” You’d said quietly. “I appreciate it. Really.”

Your moving date finally arrives and you carry your boxes down to the front door. Brandon had moved out three nights ago and your Moms’ had made a big deal of making his favourite dinner, giving him a going away gift and spending time with him the night before. You hadn’t received any similar fanfare last night and you hadn’t expected to. You see Natasha in her Black Widow outfit in the kitchen and you pause, shifting the box in your arms. “Are you not coming with us?”

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, clearly distracted.

“With me and Mom to move me in.”

“Wait, you seriously thought we were gonna drive you? Jesus Y/N, it’s two days just one way.”

You hesitate, the box feeling even heavier in your arms as you shift from one foot to the other. “Yeah but… I’m going to college.” There’s significance to that statement but Natasha just blinks at you. “I thought we’d make a road trip out of it, I could spend some time with you and Mom before I- I mean, you helped Brandon move in-”

“Y/N, come on, Brandon went local, it took less than a day to move him in.”

You feel your bottom lip begin to tremble and you bite it, willing yourself not to cry. “It’s just… You never asked me how I was getting there, so I guess I just assumed that-”

“You’re an adult now,” Natasha says, giving you a tired look. “You can’t rely on your Mommy’s to do everything for you forever. We thought you’d figured something out, maybe caught a ride with someone else who was moving from New York to California.”

You shake your head and mumble dejectedly, “No… No, I didn’t do that.”

“Well you’ll have to figure it out. I’ve got work to do and your Mom doesn’t have the time to drive you that far.”

Natasha presses a half-hearted kiss to your cheek as she leaves and you realise that you don’t even feel angry or disappointed. Not really. You’re not actually surprised that they’re not driving you to college. That Natasha might not see you now until Thanksgiving or maybe even Christmas, and that had been her goodbye. Wanda is upstairs but you know there’s no point in going up to ask her for a ride. Instead you take your phone out and text Tony, asking if you could have one more favour.

An hour later Happy appears outside, and it’s him who takes your boxes back and forth to the car. You wait in the hallway, glancing towards the staircase, not sure if you’re hoping that Wanda will come downstairs to wish you goodbye. Maybe you are hoping but you’re not expecting it, not really. There’s movement upstairs but she doesn’t make an appearance.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Happy says to you as he grabs your final box.

You hesitate, glancing towards the stairs one last time before shaking your head, “No need. We should probably get moving, it’s going to be a long drive.”

“I understand if you want to say goodbye, I’ll wait as long as you need-”

“I already did,” You lie. “I’m ready to go, seriously.”

As you climb into the car, you find that you don’t feel sad about not saying goodbye. The thought of not returning for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any other holiday doesn’t fill you with dread. All you feel as Happy begins driving is a strange sense of calm and acceptance.

University will be different. You won’t be Brandon’s twin sister, the one stuck in his shadow, never getting to step into the spotlight. No one will ever even know you’re a twin. Finally, you’ll get to be yourself. As for your Moms- It’s hard not to stop the tears welling in your eyes as you remember the proud way they’d hugged Brandon when they’d left him at college. How they’d never looked at you with the bright, proud eyes that Brandon had grown to take for granted. How Wanda had stopped tucking you into bed not long after your tenth birthday but had continued to tuck Brandon in until he was twelve and had asked for to stop, and how you knew you wouldn’t have asked her to stop, not until the day you moved out. How you felt on your eighth birthday when you realised for the first time that your Moms’ might love you in their own way but they had never understood you, and had never cared about you the way they had Brandon.

It had taken all of your energy to tell yourself multiple times as a teenager that it wasn’t anything you’d done, or even anything that Brandon had done. He wasn’t any more special than you, not even if he had more achievements. Maybe you could’ve achieved higher results if your Moms’ had put a fraction of the effort they put into Brandon into you. If they’d let you learn piano, go to karate, join that young writers class, maybe you’d have more things to be proud of.

You turn slightly in your seat, spying the PlayStation 3 you’d managed to buy second-hand from your local flea market when you were fifteen, bought with money you’d saved from your paper route. If there was anything that you wanted in this life, you’d learnt ten years ago that you needed to get it yourself.

As you turn to face forward again, you think about your Moms’ again and wonder if they’ll even notice that you never intend to come home. That you’ll stay at college over every holiday and the moment you graduate, you’ll settle down anywhere, as long as it’s far away from New York and far away from the family who had never appreciated you. Would they even care? You’re not sure. But that’s not your problem anymore.