natashasilverfox

[natashasilverfox]

Sebastian Stan - L’Officiel USA

[natashasilverfox]

Yay new chapter🥳 I missed this series! Ugh Vision is such a 🤬 I can’t stand him and how he treats Wanda and the twins. I love how everyone is supportive of Y/n being in Wanda and the twins lives and subtly trying to get them together as a family lol.

Chapter 24

Summary: Billy and Tommy are celebrating their 12th birthday.

A/n: Hellooooooo! I'm so sorry this has taken so long to post. It's been a ROUGH few months. But through it, I've been able to write a bit when I can. I've also fallen behind on a few episodes of Everything Is Fanfiction. I'm working on getting them out soon, just beware, they were meant to be posted in October/November. But November was so disappointing I needed a BREAK. Haha. Anyway, hope y'all are well. Enjoy!

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“The kids told me that Y/n is going to be at their birthday party,” Vision says as he leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. His facial features are contorted into what he assumes is a threatening expression. Once upon a time, his expression did cause Wanda’s stomach to twist in knots and her body to tense up so tightly it was as if she'd turned to stone. But now, all she sees is a man child. Just a boy throwing another fit because he can't have what he wants. She is no longer afraid of his glare and she has to refrain from grinning at the realization. 

Wanda is picking up her boys since it's her week with them. She got caught in this conversation because she was left waiting for Tommy and Billy to say their goodbyes to their younger siblings. They love Vin and Viv wholeheartedly and they feel guilty every time they leave. Even more so because of the relief and safety they feel when they are with their mom. Something they don't know if their siblings will ever feel since Vin and Viv live full time with their father.  

“Y/n will be there with Rachel, their daughter. A lot of parents will be there with their children,” Wanda says with a small shrug. She's trying her best to hide her annoyance over the fact that Vision continues to have this insecurity towards you. As if you're going to replace him in his role as a parent. Of course part of Wanda wishes it could be as simple as that. But she won't ever admit that in order to protect her kids.

“Well I won't be there if they slash them is going to be there,” he states firmly. “I'm the boy's father, so I have to be there.” 

Once again, Wanda has to refrain from laughing. “Vis, you're not even invited. We agreed to do separate birthday celebrations when we got divorced,” she pauses as a fact pops in her mind. “Actually, it's written in our custody agreement. I just haven't held you responsible until now because I was trying to keep you from disappointing the boys at least on their birthday. So, you better think of something for your Saturday with them because I'm not letting you piggyback off of me anymore.” 

Vision opens his mouth to say something but Tommy and Billy are dashing by as they race each other to the car to try and beat the other out for the front seat. Now that they're getting older, they're getting taller. Wanda can't keep them from fighting over the front seat the way she used to. She doesn't give Vision another second as she follows the boys, who are shoving each other, to the car. Billy is claiming that Tommy cheated and Tommy claiming that Billy is just too slow. 

“Boys! No one gets the front seat!” Wanda shouts as she pulls them apart. “Both of you, get to the back!” She demands and they both scoff and sigh as they crawl into the backseat. As Wanda starts the car the boys start to argue over who gets to be in charge of the music. 

“Mom, tell Tommy it's my turn! He played his music last time!” Billy shouts from the backseat. 

“No, that was at dad's house that doesn't count!” Tommy defends. 

“It does too!” Billy fires back. “I'm tired of your music! It sucks!”

“No it doesn't! My music is cool! Your music is for fags!” Tommy says the word a little too harshly. Wanda is shocked to hear Tommy say such a thing but knowing her ex-husband, it was only a matter of time. 

Wanda looks back through the rear view mirror to see that they're still fighting each other. “Hey!” She demands their attention. “Because of that, no one gets to play their music. I'm very disappointed to hear you say such a thing like that Tommy. We do not use that kind of hateful language,” she states strongly to get them to stop fighting and hopefully to get Tommy to never say that word again. 

Many Years Ago 

“Ugh he's so gross,” Crystalia says as she watches Professor Stark pass by while he's in mid conversation with another faculty member. 

Wanda is taking a bite of her food as she hides a nervous chuckle. “What are you talking about?” 

“I'm talking about the rumors going around about him sleeping with students,” she says as she leans in close and speaks in a low tone. Wanda nearly chokes on her food. 

“What? What are you talking about?” She wipes the corners of her lips as she feels Vision’s eyes on her. She subtly shakes her head in hopes that he'll stop looking her way. He looks ahead of him as he continues to walk and talk with his colleague.

“You haven't heard?” Crystalia says as though it's something that everyone on campus is talking about. Wanda shakes her head. “Oh my goodness! Okay. So. Apparently his TA saw a student go into the professor's office and a few minutes later he heard a bunch of moans from both of them. He isn't sure if he should turn him in because he really needs the scholarship that the professor helped him get. But he’s worried about the students' safety. I mean how gross. Professor Stark is in a position of power. I feel bad for whoever the poor girl is.” 

Crystalia’s words begin to fade away as Wanda couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was certain they were super careful about what they were doing. She knew she shouldn't have met him in his office. It was a bad idea from the beginning. She cannot believe she let him talk her into it. But he really wanted to try being intimate in his office because the idea was thrilling. She couldn't deny that it was thrilling, she had never been so terrified and turned on at the same time at the idea of being caught. But knowing that his teaching assistant did catch them has her stomach doing somersaults. She has to push her plate of sushi away from her because she's too nauseous to eat anymore. 

“Are you okay?” Crystalia asks with concern. 

Wanda nods, “Yeah, yeah, I'm just, I'm not sure that the sushi is good is all.” She puts on a fake smile as her mind continues to race with what could happen to her if the teaching assistant were to turn them in. What it could do to her reputation of being known as a girl who screws the professors. It wouldn't matter that he's the only professor that she's been with or that she wasn't his student anymore and hasn't been for a year. It won't matter that they've been in a relationship that was beyond the physical. She would be ruined if anyone found out the student was her.

She knows she should have never started seeing him in the first place. She knew it was against the rules. But she couldn't help herself. It started off as fun and now it's too late to stop. She's so in love with him that she can't imagine life without him. 

Present Day 

A couple of days later, Wanda is sitting on her back porch and watching you lift the finished furniture that you'd made. Taking it from the backyard all the way to the driveway. She licks her lips as her eyes follow your every move, noticing the way your muscles flex as you hoist the chair up. She was starving for your touch again. With the kids' starting middle school and both of you having work piling up, neither of you have been able to find time to spend together. Not since the night the two of you slept together. 

Neither of you really got to enjoy the moments after because shortly after the two of you finished she received a phone call from a nearby hospital. Her mother had fallen and broken her wrist. Wanda rushed to her mother's aid as soon as she was dressed and you drove her to the hospital. Her mother played the injury off as if it was nothing but the doctor stated otherwise. So, Wanda had her mom move in with her for the time being so that she could look after her mother. 

You drove them back to Wanda's once the mother was released from the hospital. It was hard to deny anything going on between the two of you in the disheveled state you and Wanda were in. Not to mention how late into the night it was that the two of you were together. Her mom didn't ask any questions. She simply smiled and squeezed your arm. A silent approval in a sense. 

Then you and Wanda said goodnight to each other because she thought it would be best for you to go home. You agreed as you figured the focus needed to be on her mother's health and not Wanda and yours relationship status. Thankfully, her mom hasn't been pressing her for details of your relationship with Wanda but she has been making comments. “You look happier,” she'll say as she sips coffee. “There’s a glow about you,” she'll say as she walks by the home office. “I think you’re doing the right thing,” she whispered once while the four of them were watching a movie about a blended family. “If you want to have someone over or go out, feel free. Don't let me stop you,” she stated on a Friday night when Wanda didn't have the kids and added a wink when Wanda gave her mother a funny look. 

“Wow, Y/n made those all on their own?” Ms. Maximoff says as she sits next to her daughter while she sips her coffee. “They must have talented… hands.” 

Wanda's eyes widen as she sits up, “Mom!” She scolds softly. “Stop,” she turns around to make sure her boys aren't within ear shot. “Just, please, the kids can't know. Not yet okay? So please, stop with the comments.” 

Ms. Maximoff rolls her eyes and sets her mug on the table in front of them. “I was just paying your friend a compliment. You don't need to get flustered over nothing. I did not raise you to have a filthy mind.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Oh please mother, who are you trying to fool?” 

“Okay, I won't say anything anymore. I just,” she looks around and notices that you and the kids are nowhere to be seen. Noting that they're alone. Even so, she leans in close to her daughter and asks, “Is this a secret because it's far from being serious?” 

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she contemplates a simple answer. After a moment she starts to shake her head. “We're taking it slow. We're getting to know each other and figuring out if there is a future here. We're also protecting our kids.”

Her mother nods and places a hand atop her own. She gives her a light squeeze. “How do you feel about them?” she asks in a soft motherly tone that strikes a chord in Wanda. 

The woman grows emotional. Tears spring to the brim of her eyes and threaten to fall as a lump forms in her throat. She takes a shaky breath to calm down. “I'm in love and I'm scared that I'm going to mess it up. I'm scared that I'm not seeing something majorly wrong with Y/n and it'll ruin my life when it comes out. I'm so happy and secure yet I'm so terrified that my instincts are wrong.”

Ms. Maximoff nods and moves her hand further up on Wanda's arm. “Vision did quite a number on you, didn't he?” She asks and Wanda looks away. She often avoids talking about her former marriage to her mother because she doesn't want her mom to think that she failed as a mother. 

“Mom, please,” Wanda wipes her eyes and clears her throat. 

“Honey, I'm only,” Ms. Maximoff doesn't get to continue because you are opening the back door, startling both of the women. 

“Hey, I just wanted to warn you that I have to deliver the orders to the post office,” you say as you fail to notice the vulnerable state that Wanda is in. “Do you mind if Rachel stays behind, I'll only be a couple of,” your words fall as Wanda breathes through her stuffed nose, giving away her current state. You crouch near her to get a good look at her. You put one hand on her shoulder and your other gently takes her hand. “What's wrong, Wanda?”

Wanda shakes her head and clears her throat as she forces a smile. Her body responds to your touch, releasing the tension that was building from the conversation with her mother. “Nothing, nothing. It's only allergies,” she tries to lie and you tilt your head as you catch her eyes to make contact. When she finally surrenders and gazes into your eyes you have a nonverbal conversation hoping she will open up without having to verbalize her emotions. She tells you that she is fine and you nod as you accept her answer. You gently wipe a tear that has escaped before you stand up and let go of her.  

“I need to drop off the furniture at the post office. Rachel isn't ready to leave yet, do you mind if I leave her here for a bit? I'll bring dinner for everyone on my way back,” you ask as you look at her carefully. Still concerned about how she is feeling. 

Wanda takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, it's no big deal. I'm sure they're all distracted with a video game or something. I'll be here to keep them alive otherwise.” You laugh at her statement and thank her as you step away. 

“How's the wrist Ms. Maximoff?” You ask as you step closer to her. She smiles and tells you that she's never been better. You give her a half hug goodbye and tell the ladies that you'll see them in a bit. 

Ms. Maximoff looks at her daughter once you're gone and she smiles. “Honey, you have nothing to worry about.” Her confidence in her statement startles Wanda. Her mother had never been so approving of a partner that she's had. It felt different to have this kind of approval from her mom. At one point in her life, she could care less if her mom approved or not. But she didn't realize how much energy it took to be constantly defending her decisions. It overwhelms her once again. She fears how easy all of this is and she isn't certain that she can believe that this is real. 

Many Years Ago 

Wanda paces the bedroom nervously. She couldn't believe that she was in this situation again. She doesn't believe she'll be lucky a second time. What is she going to tell people? What is she going to tell her parents? 

“It's not that bad,” Vision says as he stops Wanda in her tracks. Her pacing was irritating him but he is doing his best to remain steady, for her. “This can be a good thing. You won't need to worry about graduating or what kind of job you need to get. I can take care of us. I can take care of our family.” He puts his hand on her belly. Wanda melts into his touch as her eyes focus on his hand. There could be a baby growing inside. A baby that will change her life. But she doesn't want to fall into the trope. She refuses to give up her dreams of her career just because she had gotten pregnant by a man with means to care for her. She won't be seen as a gold digger. She won't have people believing that she trapped him into marrying her. She looks up at him with tears in her eyes. She shakes her head. 

“No, I still want to work. I would never expect you to take care of our family on your own,” she says softly. Vision's features twitch slightly but he doesn't react too much. He nods and pulls her into a tight embrace. That was not his plan. He wanted a stay at home wife, not a career woman. But he had to be careful. He knew that he could convince her eventually. When she would inevitably get stressed, he knew he could point out that it's not healthy for the baby. He knew that when she couldn't keep up with the housework and the baby and work that he could tell her to quit her job. He just had to be patient. In the end, Vision always got what he wanted.

“Okay, just know that you have the option. You might feel different later on and that's okay,” he says as he strokes her hair. Doing his best to sound supportive. 

Wanda grows emotional as she clutches his shirt. “I'm scared, Vis. I don't think I'm ready,” she admits against his chest with a shaky tone.

Present Day 

That Friday you arrive at her house an hour before the party is supposed to start so that you can help her decorate and set up. She is grateful for the help but she acts a bit standoffish. Since her conversation with her mom about her relationship with you, she has been spiraling. She skipped her therapy session because she wanted to see if she could manage her emotions on her own but unfortunately that only left her to be shut off from the world. 

You could sense that something was off about her but you couldn't ask about it because part of you knew it was something that needed time and care and couldn't be solved in a brief conversation. So you did your best to be helpful and out of the way. 

As the party began and parents and their children began to arrive, you noticed Wanda begin to perk up. But something still felt off about her. You tried not to linger around her too much. You stay with Pietro for some time. Chatting about how exciting it is to be done with one building and starting construction on another. The conversation moves to him asking you questions about your small business and how that's going. 

Later on you're talking with Carol and Val about their wedding plans and you get excited about their ideas for their wedding and offer to build them an arbor as a gift. They try to shut you down and offer to pay but you convince them otherwise. Insisting that it's the only gift idea that you can actually pull off successfully. 

Wanda’s gaze wanders over to you every now and then. She watches you laugh and engage with her friends and family. She watches you play with the kids when they start running around you. She doesn't want to, but she can't help but compare you to her ex husband. How he would have only paid attention to who he deemed the prettiest woman at the event. Even or especially if she was married. How if the kids came up to him, he would brush them off and tell them to go play with other kids. And when he remarried, the only reason he would talk to people was to show off his new wife. 

Eventually you catch on to Wanda staring at you and you relax a little. You casually walk towards her and tip your head towards the stairs. Inviting her for a private conversation. She subtly nods and you make your way up the stairs without anyone noticing. 

For Wanda, it isn't as easy. She has friends come up to her. She has a kid that's never been to the house before asking where the bathroom is. She is pulled every which way until finally, her mom steps in to get her out of conversations and helping others. 

It takes her roughly thirty minutes to join you upstairs in her bedroom. She finds you sitting at the edge of her bed, patiently waiting. 

“Hey,” she says in a soft tone as she enters the room. Carefully shutting the door behind her so that it doesn't draw any attention. 

You perk up and sit up with a warm smile. “Hey you,” you greet her. “Are you doing okay?” You ask as she sits next to you with a deep sigh. She lays her head on your shoulder and you grow worried again. 

“It's hard to talk about with you because it's about us and you. But it's mostly about me. I don't want to hurt you or scare you,” she tries to explain her complicated feelings that she is struggling to voice. You nod and take her hand in yours to provide her some comfort as you listen to her. 

“Have you talked to your therapist about it?” You ask as you rub your thumb on the back of her hand. She nods her head. The fact that this is still bothering her tells you that this isn't something that can be solved in an hour session with her therapist. “What about with your mom?” You ask in order to understand her a bit better.

“I have, somewhat. She's very encouraging of you, by the way. I wouldn't be surprised if she has started a Pinterest board for our wedding.” She jokes as she starts to move her fingers. You huff out a breathy laugh at the idea. You tilt your head to lean against hers.

“Alright, well none of your friends know about us. So I believe that leaves me as your only option,” you keep your tone light, not wanting her to think you're making a joke of her dilemmas, but still trying to cheer her up a bit. “Look, I want you to be able to come to me about anything. No matter how uncomfortable it may be for the both of us. But I'm not going to pressure you into talking to me if you're not ready to do that yet. That's part of taking it slow. We're gaining each other's trust in order to have difficult conversations.” 

Wanda stops moving her fingers and wraps her hand around yours to give it a soft squeeze. “Thank you,” she says. You squeeze back and kiss the top of her head. 

“We should get back to the party,” you suggest. Wanda nods and rises. She looks down at you, finally looking at you for the first time since she walked in. She doesn't see any anger or frustration in your expression. She only sees love and concern. She couldn't express herself to her ex-husband without him appearing annoyed or upset in some way. 

Wanda surprises you with a soft chaste kiss on the lips. “I love you,” she whispers. 

You smile and kiss her again. “I love you,” you say before letting go of your hand. You step out of her room first and rush to get away from the area without anyone noticing. Then Wanda rejoins the party a couple of minutes later. 

Many Years Ago 

“Wanda, I thought you were mature enough to handle this!” Vision shouts at her. They were celebrating his birthday but with that, came his favorite foods that were triggers for Wanda’s morning sickness. She had to run out of the room as soon as he brought the food out. The retching sounds disgusted him. Vision could hardly stand it. 

Since Wanda was a great student and had enough credits to graduate early which she opted to do because she didn't want to have to answer too many questions about her pregnancy. It upset Vision because he expected her to simply drop out. He got scared and as though his plan was falling apart. Then she agreed to wait on getting a job until the baby could be put in daycare. It was a huge relief for him.

The two moved in together shortly after she completed her final class. Since she was no longer a student, she gave up her dorm room. It was a major adjustment for the couple. They were not very compatible as cohabitants. She wasn't as neat as he expected her to be. She was exhausted from the pregnancy and it was hard for her to pick up after the both of them. Vision got upset every time he had to clean his own messes that he expected her to clean up before he returned. But he thought he was able to keep his cool. 

Wanda is in tears as he snaps at her yet again. She doesn't understand what she is doing wrong. This pregnancy is hard on her. She's nauseous much longer in the day than the morning. She isn't able to keep fit the way Vision keeps asking her to be. Nothing feels comfortable to wear. She can't go anywhere anymore. 

“I'm sorry Vis,” Wanda says through her tears. “The boys are just-” 

“What did you say?” Vision’s tone shifts into one of shock. 

“I-I-I shoot! I ruined the… hold on,” Wanda walks away to grab one of the presents she bought to surprise him. It was a T-shirt with the ultrasound of the twin boys she was carrying. The shirt said “Boy Dad” along the top of the ultrasound image. She hands him the gift and as he opens it she explains, “At my last appointment I found out that we're having twins. And they're both boys.” She wipes her tears as she watches Vision for his reaction. 

“We're having two boys?” He gasps, stunned by the news. Then he looks at Wanda with a wide grin. “We're having boys!” He envelopes her in a big hug to hold her close and kisses her in celebration. 

Present Day 

“Mom!! Look!” Billy proudly holds one of his presents up as him and Tommy unwrap their presents. The party was over, everyone had gone home except for Pietro and his family. The boys were eager to open their presents as they arrived with the guests but thankfully the other kids distracted them until the party was over. 

“Wow! That's a nice present, who is it from?” Wanda asks as she writes down the name of the toy on a notepad. Billy rummages through the gift bag to find a card or tag. He finds a small gift card at the bottom of the bag and hands it to his mom so she can read it. She marks it down. 

“Uncle P! Thank you!” Tommy shouts as he pulls out a box with a picture of a drone on it. Wanda shakes her head and groans. 

“Why did you get him that? I told you not to,” Wanda sighs. 

“Because it's cool!” Pietro cheers. 

“It's so cool!” Tommy says with a grin.

Billy gets a saddened look on his face and Pietro notices. He pushes a box of similar size towards his nephew. “Don't think I forgot about you, pal,” he says and Billy lights up as he tears into the wrapping paper. Another drone is revealed as Billy and Pietro cheer. Wanda can't help but imagine all of the ways the boys will get in trouble with the drones. “Happy birthday boys,” Pietro says as his nephews pile on him to thank him with hugs. 

Once the mess from the presents is cleaned up and Pietro and his wife have left with their sleeping girls and the new toys are put away, Wanda is tucking her boys into their beds. 

“Mom?” Billy asks softly as Wanda smooths the blanket over her boy. 

“Yes, Billy,” Wanda asks in a soft tone. 

“I'm glad we didn't invite dad today,” he says as he looks down at his hands. “He can be mean sometimes. And he really doesn't like Y/n. We have to lie sometimes so he doesn't get mad that we saw Y/n.” 

Wanda takes a deep breath as she smooths Billy's hair down. “I'm sorry that you have to lie to your dad.” 

Billy shrugs, “It's okay. I like hanging out with Y/n. They're cool. They never get mad at me when I'm talking and they help me when I have problems. And sometimes when I don't understand some of my school work and they're here, I ask and they will show me so it makes sense.” His eyes get bright as he talks about you to his mom. It warms her heart to know that you're helping her boys with their school work. 

“Yeah, they are really good at making things make sense,” Tommy says from his bed. “Dad just says we should know this stuff and walks away. The only thing dad wants to teach us is sports. Which I like but he gets really mad at Billy.” 

Wanda looks between her boys, paying attention to the one that is speaking each time. As she hears about how her ex-husband treats their kids she shakes her head and mentally curses him out. He always claimed their kids would be smart because they were his kids. They are smart kids, but they both struggle with school work. It's not their fault, it can get confusing and sometimes they just need it to be explained in a different way in order for them to really grasp the subject. She knows this and so does Vision. But Vision is a lazy parent in this aspect. He believes that whatever explanation the teacher gave is all the boys need in order to get their homework and school work done. And because he teaches all day at the college, he refuses to come home and have to teach again. Which meant Wanda was left to do it on her own and is one of her biggest concerns when her boys go to his house because she's not there to help them with their homework. 

“Is that true?” Wanda looks down at Billy again. Her son nods with a frown and scratches his nose. 

“Yeah, I don't like sports. I like dancing and I even want to try out for the school play this year. But dad said no. I have to stick with sports,” he sighs, his expression of disappointment squeezing Wanda's heart. 

“Don't worry about him. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Okay?” She says as he combs her fingers through his hair. Billy smiles a little as he looks up at his mom. 

“You're the best mom ever. Did you know that?” Billy says sweetly. Wanda smiles down at her boy. Right now she feels like the worst mom for having chosen Vision to be their father. But she can't go back in time and change that because then she wouldn't have Billy and Tommy. She can't imagine life without them. 

“Alright boys, get some rest. I'm sure your father has something planned for your birthday tomorrow,” she says as she gives them each one last kiss on their foreheads. As she is about to leave the room, she stops at the light switch. “I love you both. Happy birthday,” she smiles and flips the switch and closes the door before heading to bed. 

Twelve Years Ago 

Wanda is lying in the hospital bed, sweaty and exhausted. She has one of her newborn sons in her arms, her second child is in the arms of his father. She has tears in her eyes. She couldn't believe it. She is a wife and mother. She has a loving husband who hasn't stopped staring at the baby in his arms since the moment he picked him up. 

“They're perfect,” Wanda whispers. 

“Of course they are. They came from us,” he says happily. His eyes never leave the baby in his arms. He can’t stop gazing at his boy. His first born son. “You are perfect Billy,” he whispers to the baby. He chose the name William after William Shakespeare because it's a well recognized name. One day he hopes that William Vison Stark is just as recognized because he plans to raise him to be one of the most brilliant, powerful and successful men in history. Before, second, or equivalent to his brother Tommy. He was named after Thomas Edison. A great inventor. He hopes that his son gets the Stark genetics in that regard. His family is known to be great inventors. One day his brother, Anthony, will be a thing of the past because his son Thomas Erik Stark will be known as the greatest innovator. He will make certain of it. 

Wanda is gazing down at her son Tommy, the baby is kicking slightly and she knows that he was the baby that kicked the most. “I can’t wait to know you,” she whispers. “I promise to protect your hopes and dreams. She smoothes down his tuft of hair and kisses his forehead. She is excited to tell her father her son’s middle name. Since she told him about her pregnancy, he would jokingly ask her that if the baby is a boy, she should name him after her father. Then she revealed that she was having two boys and he said “That’s perfect! One is named Erik, the other Magnus!” Wanda shakes her head at the memory. The remainder of her pregnancy, she spent fighting the men in her life on naming her kids after them. Then Vision came up with a compromise of having their middle names carry on his name and her fathers name. 

“We are going to raise great men,” Vision grins at his wife. 

Wanda giggles, “Let’s enjoy them as babies while we can.” 

“Okay,” he says and leans over to kiss her lips. “I can agree to that. I love you.” 

Wanda gives him a sleepy smile, “I love you too.”

Chapter 25

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[natashasilverfox]

Chapter 23

Summary: In order to have a dating life without the pressure of friends and family knowing, Wanda and Reader plan dates to meet at each other's places for romantic dinners. They tend to dance a lot.

A/n: Sorry y'all meant to post earlier today but had to walk Brady then had to make my food. I apologize for any and all errors, I haven't really been editing the chapters since I've gotten so busy but I LOVE this story sooooo much! I hope y'all enjoy!

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The alarm on your phone wakes you. It’s early on a Monday morning. The sun isn’t up yet but you have to be in order to make it to the job site at your scheduled time. You wish you could sleep in, but unfortunately you won’t get to do that for the next four mornings. As you yawn and stretch, you feel a hand pull you down. “No,” she groans, making you laugh as you continue to stretch. 

“I have work,” you remind her as you fall against her. Feeling your normally tense body relax into her warm embrace. Your muscles feel like jelly and you want to close your eyes for just five more minutes. But you don’t. You just know that those five minutes could be ten, twenty, an hour, or worse.  

“No,” she repeats as she snuggles closer, her eyes remaining closed as she does. 

“And what do I tell your brother when he calls asking me why I’m not at work?” You ask as you adjust to look at her. Wanda’s hair is a mess, her face is a little puffier than usual, she looks serene. You cup her cheek with your hand and lightly rub your thumb back and forth. 

Wanda leans into your touch and a content sigh escapes her lips. “Easy, you don’t answer,” she smirks as she presses her lips to the palm of your jaw. You shake your head with a soft laugh.

“So I shouldn’t tell him that his twin is refusing to let me leave her bed?” you tease and Wanda scrunches her face. She pushes you back and you grin.

“Gross, he’ll think we’re doing a lot more than snuggling and sleeping,” she covers her face as she shakes her head. Then she finally opens her eyes. “Besides, I think that goes against that whole keeping this between us thing.” 

You lean in and kiss her cheek, “Exactly, I’m going. Have a good day,” you swiftly move out of the warmth of the cozy bed and her arms and Wanda pouts as you do but she doesn’t put up more of a resistance. She sighs with a slight disappointment this time as the bed grows cool in your absence. She climbs out and stretches as she wakes her body up. 

“Are you going to come back tonight?” She asks as she shamelessly watches you undress. The two of you are still waiting to be physically intimate as the two of you continue to develop the emotional intimacy of the relationship in order to build a strong foundation. But as her eyes roam your body, she is beginning to forget why the two of you need to wait in the first place. 

You are lost in thought as you change and consider your answer. Uncertain if today is the day you had to pick up Rachel and Jean from the airport. It has been two weeks since the disastrous first date. You and Wanda had your second date on Wednesday of that week then your third and fourth that weekend. The week she had her boys, you needed to work on finishing orders for your side business and Wanda would sneak in from time to time to chat and maybe the two of you even made out a couple of times. 

Last night wasn’t a date outside of the house. It wasn’t even meant to be a date. It was a last minute invite and you weren’t up for much because you were working all Saturday and most of yesterday working for a delivery service to help catch up on the bills. “Um, let me check my,” you pick up your phone and look up the flight itinerary for Rachel and Jean. “Yeah, I can come back tonight. I don’t pick up the girls until Thursday… morning? Ugh, that’s going to be brutal. I need to warn your brother.” 

Wanda shakes her head with a disgusted expression. “Please, just say boss. It’s hurting my brain how much you have to run by my brother.” 

You smile and nod as you pull your work polo over your head and arms and straighten yourself out. “Alright, that’s not a problem,” you walk across the room towards her and wrap your arms around her and give her a soft kiss on the lips. “I love you,” you say. 

Wanda scrunches her nose as she catches a whiff of your sour morning breath, but she kisses you again anyway. “I love you and your stinky breath.” 

You wink at her with a wide grin before walking to her bathroom to use the toothbrush that you left here the last time.  You start brushing your teeth and she follows to brush her teeth at the sink next to the one you’re standing in front of. When the two of you exchange a glance, you wink at her and she shakes her head. 

~~~~

Wanda looks at her phone as she receives the last message you’ll be sending her for the rest of the week. Even though it’s the middle of the summer, you are finally taking Rachel on the annual camping trip. “Why do you look upset?” Pietro asks as he tries to look over her shoulder to get a glance at her screen just in case it’s a message from Vision. 

Wanda is quick to hide her phone. “Dude! Mind your business!” She says with the screen of her phone pressed against her chest. 

“Dude? Really? What are we, twelve?” He shakes his head and grabs a handful of chips from the bowl on the coffee table. 

“Yeah, when you’re trying to look at my phone and you’re eating like that!” Wanda doubles down and Pietro slows down his chewing but his mouth is still full of chips, giving him chipmunk cheeks. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. Wanda shakes her head and looks back at her phone as she tries to think of a response to your message before it’s too late. “This is my house, you know?” Pietro states as he adds the rest of the fist full of chips into his mouth. 

Wanda is visiting to finally meet her new niece. She has spent a couple hours doting over the baby while she anxiously checked her phone for messages from you. Now her boys are with their aunt, she is watching them as they each take turns holding the baby in the rocking chair in the nursery. Pietro told her that you had gifted it and Wanda recalls watching you make pieces of the chair but she doesn’t remember seeing you take it out. But it was a sturdy and comfortable chair. She had to hide how proud it made her feel to see the chair you made actually being used and shown off. 

“It still amazes me that you ever found someone to love all of this,” Wanda gestures with her hand waving it in a circle of her brother's face and body. 

“Whatever, you’re just jealous that I found someone I can be myself with,” he says as he puts his boots on top of the coffee table while crossing his legs. 

“Pietro! Get your shoes off of my coffee table!” Crystalia shouts from the other room. “And wipe it down!” She orders. 

Pietro quickly drops his feet to the ground and sits up. “Yes dear!” He shouts back as he gets up from the couch. Wanda watches with amusement and Pietro looks at his twin once he’s standing. “Not a word,” he warns. Wanda, unable to help herself, makes a whip sound as she flicks her wrist with a smirk. “I’m going to remember that,” he says as he walks away.

~~~~

The day you come back from the camping trip with Rachel, you're happy to find that Jean has moved out of your apartment. You find your room clean and without a bunch of overflowing luggages scattered on the floors. The bed is made with clean sheets. Your bathroom is clean with no evidence of makeup or used feminine products. The apartment no longer smells like Jean’s perfume. That was the best part. It almost felt like she was spraying it around as a substitute for an air freshener. So to have the apartment smelling like anything but her is a real relief. Rachel is happy to have a clean room to return to as well. The apartment doesn't feel as cramped with the bed in the living room finally folded away. 

You call Jean to find out if you should drop Rachel off at her house. But she doesn't pick up the first couple of times. When she finally does, she is irritated and breathless. “Hey, we're back. Do you want me to bring Rach over to you?” You ask, keeping your voice low in case Jean doesn't want Rachel at her house yet. 

“Oh shit what day is it?” Jean says and you can hear Anna giggle in the back stating that she doesn't know and doesn't care. You pinch the bridge of your nose as you let her know that it's Sunday. “Right, right, it's my week now. Okay. Yeah, give me…” she mutes herself for a couple of minutes. “Okay, okay, give us a couple of hours. I'll, we'll, the house will be ready. We need to clean up.” She is panting between words and you have to refrain from groaning out of disgust. But it's better off that she's jumping into bed with her wife instead of trying to seduce you. 

The night she kissed you wasn't the only time she made a pass at you. She tried a few nights later, while you were asleep. She crawled into the uncomfortable sofa bed with you and snuggled up against you. Her touch woke you up almost instantly and not in the way she preferred. You were repulsed by the idea of ever being with her ever again. You had to explain that to her in detail a couple of times before she finally understood to leave you alone. 

You shudder at the memory once you hang up the phone. You tell Rachel to take a nap but you don't tell her that you'll be taking her to her mom's house. You don't want to excite her, she needs to be resting. You step out to your balcony to call Wanda. 

“Hello?” Wanda sounds a little out of breath herself. 

“Hey,” you say as you try to figure out what she could be doing. 

“Y/n! Oh my goodness! You're back earlier than I thought you'd be!” She says excitedly. “Sorry, I'm on my treadmill. I didn't check to see who was calling.” You can hear her press a couple of buttons and the soft hum of the machine in the background slowly comes to an end. “Hey you, how are you doing?” She asks as she is catching her breath. You wish that you could be the reason she is breathless. You wish you were the one entangled with Wanda warning Jean that you need some time before she can drop off Rachel. 

“I'm doing good, it was a long drive. I can't wait to see you,” you say as you lean against the railing of the balcony. You look out to the busy view that the location of your apartment building provides you. 

“That's sweet,” Wanda sighs and you can hear the smile in her voice. “Do you think you'll get to?” 

“Jean moved out when I was gone so I was thinking,” you check over your shoulder to be certain that Rachel isn't within ear shot. “After I drop Rachel off with her mom, maybe I can stop by and see you?” 

Wanda takes a moment to answer, you can hear her swallowing her water for a moment. You wait kind of nervously before but maintaining patience. “Just stop by or do you think you can spend the night too?” 

Your smile widens. “I could be convinced but I don't know.” 

“I missed you,” she says softly. “Come on,” her volume lifts slightly as she pleads with you. “Spend the night with me. Hell, spend the week with me.” 

“That's a little fast, don't you think?” The words fall out of you before you could stop them. You're a little surprised that you're thinking about slowing things down between the two of you. All week, the only thing you could think about was being in her bed with her. Laughing with her. Crying with her. Playfully arguing with her. You laugh a little to try and play it off as a joke but you aren't certain if you meant the statement or not. 

“Well, considering that we're still waiting,” Wanda speaks slowly, dragging out her words. “I mean, I suppose it's a little fast to have you move in for a week,” she goes quiet for a moment. You are biting your nail on your thumb as you wait for her to continue. “But you know what? I don't care,” her voice sounds more certain, more confident. “I want you here. I want you to go to work and come back here. I want to make dinners with you. I want you here as much as possible.” 

You chuckle softly as you think about it. But then decide not to overthink it. You've spent too much time thinking. You want to take this small leap with Wanda. “Alright, I'll pack my bags then,” you state calmly and confidently. 

“Wait, are you serious?” She sounds slightly surprised but mostly excited. 

“Yeah, I'm serious,” you confirm. “I need to go if I'm going to sneak my bags inside the truck before Rachel can ask me about anything. I'll see you soon. I love you,” you say as you hold the handle of the door so you can enter the bedroom. 

“Okay, yeah, I'll see you soon. I love you,” her excitement is contagious as you feel a rush of energy and joy. You can't rid yourself of your wide grin as you hang up and start to get ready for your week with Wanda. 

~~~~

“...’Cause you feel like home. You’re like a dream come true,”  you hold Wanda close with your eyes closed as the two of you dance to the song. The two of you were enjoying dinner together at her home. She hasn’t let you take her out since you talked to her about your financial situation in depth. Wanda refused to let you do anything to spoil her, especially after how much you spent on her for the first date. You tried to assure her that you budgeted for it but she was adamant that the dates be affordable and that they didn’t need to be of any extravagance. 

“Expensive dates aren’t what makes a relationship great anyway. I think we both know that by now. I just want to be able to spend time with you,” she assured you when you were trying to assure her that you don't mind spending money on her. 

As the two of you continue to dance around the living room you can't help but think of the first time you and Wanda danced together. In the backyard with the sun setting and a bottle and a half of wine in your systems. Or was it two bottles? You don't remember, but it was a minor detail. What you do remember in detail was how much you wanted to kiss her. How much you wanted to feel connected to her. How much you wanted to be her partner. Now here you are, dancing with her once again. You still feel that way except now, you can kiss her when you want. And you do. Now you feel more connected to her than ever. Now you consider yourself her partner. 

“Can you believe it? Our kids are starting middle school soon?” Wanda whispers as her eyes fall on a framed baby photo of her boys as she looks over your shoulder. 

You shake your head as you continue to sway with her. “No, I can't believe it. I still keep thinking that Rachel is too young to be moving on to middle school. But she won't stop reminding me with how excited she is about it.” 

Wanda takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I keep eavesdropping on the boys because Tommy is constantly talking to Billy about all of the hot girls that are going to be at their middle school.” 

You scrunch your face, “Please, he hangs out with my daughter. I need to be able to sleep at night. I beg you, tell me you're lying.” 

“Oh come on. They made an entire plan to become siblings. I doubt Tommy or Billy will be looking at Rachel in that way,” Wanda says in a reassuring tone. But there's a hint of doubt in her words because she can't be certain of something like that until you and her reveal the relationship to the kids.

“Oh I'm not worried about Billy. But now I'm going to keep a close eye on Tommy,” you say jokingly and Wanda stops moving with you. 

“What?” She steps back slightly. “What do you mean you're not worried about Billy?” 

You shrug and shake your head. “No particular reason.” 

“Come on,” she presses. 

“No, it's nothing. It's just, I don't think Rachel would be his type,” you say as you try to steer away from the conversation. “It's getting late, we should get ready for bed.” You say as you step away and check your watch then find the remote to shut off the music. 

“Why wouldn't Rachel be his type?” She doesn’t want to let this go because lately she’s been feeling a little disconnected from her sons. A comment like that gives her the impression that you know something she doesn’t. “What do you know?” Wanda says as she follows closely behind. 

“Nothing, I don't know anything,” you say as you shut off lights on the way towards the stairs. 

“The way you're saying that makes me feel like you know something,” Wanda continues to pester you for information all the way to the bedroom. You sigh and sit on the edge of the bed. Wanda stands in front of you as she waits to hear the answers she's looking for, not allowing you to dismiss the topic of conversation. 

“Remember when we sat the kids down and explained my pronouns and what being non-binary means to me?” You ask as you take Wanda’s hands into each of yours. She nods as her eyebrows start to crease. “Well, Billy has had some…” you trail off as you try to search through your vocabulary that will best describe your recent conversations with Billy. “Curiosities lately. I don't know anything for certain. I'm not saying that he is anything. I'm not outting him because he hasn't confirmed anything. The questions could mean absolutely nothing. Just, prepare yourself. Billy might not be… I don't know how to put it. He might not be like Tommy.” 

Wanda pulls your interlocked hands up to cover her face. You're a little confused by her exasperated reaction. She’s dating you. She’s been with women in the past. Why would something like her son potentially being queer be upsetting to her. “He is going to have such a hard time at his father's house soon,” she mutters and that's when it clicks for you. She's not upset about her son's sexuality because she wants him to be heterosexual. She's concerned for his well-being in his father's home. 

“Did he know that you were queer?” You ask, curious of how they got married if Vision wasn’t as open minded as Wanda. 

“Yeah,” she sighs as she drops your laced hands down to her sides. “Don't judge me,” she starts as she keeps her head down, “in my defense I was in my early twenties.” She takes a deep breath and bites her lips. “But he's… he liked that about me because he thinks it's okay for women to be a little more sexually open because he finds it hot. And I didn’t realize how misogynistic and homophobic he was until we found out that we were having two boys.” 

You nod slowly as you start to grow worried for Billy as well. You remember how unaccepting your father was of the way you acted while you were growing up. You even remember the advice he'd given you when you told him about getting Jean pregnant. That he wanted you to quit being so “frilly” and to start acting like the child he wanted. That life is already confusing enough for a child, they don’t need to have a parent that lives a confusing lifestyle. 

He's only now starting to come around to the idea of you not being the gender conforming person he always wanted you to be. But you could handle his criticisms and his comments about you. Billy is a sweet and sensitive boy and Vision is a lot tougher on his boys than your father ever was. 

“What do you think we should do?” You ask Wanda as you let go of her hands and stand up to wrap your arms around her and pull her body close. Wanda melts in your arms and with her eyes closed she leans her forehead against your shoulder. She breathes you in as your words hit her. Just the simple way you asked the question made her feel more supported than years in her marriage did. 

You rub her back as you wait for her answer. Your mind races with solutions but none of them being helpful or worth suggesting. “I don't know,” Wanda finally says. “I guess it's just…” she shakes her head and leans back to look at you. “It's just one of those things that's out of my hands. I can't keep Billy away from his father. And I hardly know what's going on at that house. He's finally convinced them to stop telling me what goes on over there. So, I'm just going to have to be sure that he knows he can be free to be himself here.” 

You nod and press your lips to her forehead before leaning your forehead against hers. “He's going to be okay,” you assure her. Wanda’s hands move to your shoulders and gives them a light squeeze.

“I hope you're right,” she says with a lump forming in her throat.

~~~~

You are sitting with Steve and Bucky in Steve's apartment. You have finally forgiven Steve for not talking to you about his relationship with Peggy and Bucky and Natasha. After starting your private relationship with Wanda, you could understand why he was private with the development in his life. 

Steve was going through a lot that he wasn't sure he ever wanted to be public. First, he and Peggy had given up on the relationship. But they were sticking together for appearances but they were miserable around each other. You weren't the best at giving relationship advice and completely missed that Steve wanted out of the relationship whenever he tried to talk to you about it. 

Then he met Bucky and felt an attraction that he'd never felt before towards a man. It confused him and while he dealt with those feelings, Peggy could feel him pulling away and eventually she got tired of fooling herself. They were private people as it was so there wasn't a big announcement of their split of any kind. That's where you thought that your friend had been cheating on his partner of several years. 

You felt like a shit when you realized that you weren't there for your friends as they navigated new feelings towards one another. But Steve and Bucky assured you that they didn't bring it up to you because of the problems you were facing at the time. And that they preferred to talk about it with each other. Then Darcy caught on and it was easier to come out to her since she didn't make a big deal out of it. 

Then you asked about Bucky’s girlfriend because he was also in a relationship with a woman by the time he met Steve. That's when he revealed that they were still figuring that out because Steve also had feelings towards Natasha. But they all felt weird about the “throuple” label. Steve especially wasn't prepared to deal with the backlash of coming out as possibly bi-sexual and then add being possibly polyamorous to that. He was already disowned from the majority of his family for dropping out of the military. He couldn't risk losing the family he had left. So, officially, he is single. But unofficially, he is seeing both Bucky and Natasha. Sometimes separately and sometimes together. 

“No way, Nat and Wanda?” You ask as you pop another beer open. You are shocked to hear about the relationship from someone other than Wanda. But you knew she felt some shame over the amount of people she was hooking up with. You try to tell her that it doesn't bother you but she still feels a type of way about the behavior. You hope that when you're finally able to be physically intimate with her that you'll be able to help her see that it wasn't wrong for her to explore her sexuality the way she had. 

Bucky nods, “Oh yeah, she told me everything. I couldn't believe it either. I mean, I've only met Wanda less than a handful of times but I never thought she was the type. She broke poor Nat’s heart.” 

Your eyes widen, “Really? Wow, I had no idea. I thought they seemed a little weird towards each other at the New Year's Eve party. But honestly, knowing her ex-husband, I thought maybe Nat had been with him and Wanda knew.” You tip the bottle against your lips as you make a mental note to talk to Wanda about Natasha. “It's crazy how much we can miss about each other’s lives if we're not on each other twenty four seven.”

Steve and Bucky share a laugh as they agree and drink their beers. “Yeah, I think Darcy mentioned that Jean was living with you for some time. How was that?” Steve asks, he's never gotten along with Jean and he never bothered to get to know Anna. Although she would try to approach him in conversation at gatherings that you'd host. That's where Peggy would come in and either take over the conversation or come up with an excuse to get him away from her. 

You groan at the memory as you nod to confirm. “It was starting to feel like she was never going to leave. It wasn't a fair situation and I was not about to let Anna get the house. If they went through with a divorce. But they seemed to have patched things up and Anna is treating Rachel like she's her daughter again. I don't know. The whole thing has put a bad taste in my mouth but I can't do anything about what they do. I can only do my best to protect Rachel.” 

Steve shakes his head and mutters insults about the women to himself. You don't catch half of it and you don't ask him to repeat himself. Bucky shakes his head and scoffs. “I couldn't do it. You're a tough one for putting up with all of that, Y/n,” Bucky commends you as he puts his hand on your shoulder. 

You shrug, “It's not easy but that's what you agree to when you have kids. When there was a choice, that is.” All three of you shake your heads and take a sip of beer before you continue. “I don't know that I'd recommend it but Rachel is great. She's far from being the problem. Every family has their issues and I guess that's what makes them family.” You sigh deeply as you look at the screen. The three of you were watching some show on a streaming network that had just released its most recent season. Well, more like it's releasing its most recent season weekly. You don't like that they started to do that but it did help bring you and Steve back together because it's a show that the two of you have watched together since it came out. Now you're here every week on the night the latest episode is uploaded. The three of you pay attention to the rest of the episode as you push away the image of Natasha and Wanda out of your mind. 

~~~~

“I just want to know why you didn't tell me it was Nat that you were seeing last summer,” you ask as you follow Wanda to your bedroom. She wanted to see what it would be like to live with you for the week in your space. It's been a few weeks since that night at Steve's apartment. You haven't brought it up to Wanda until now because you were keeping it out of your mind. Then, somehow, you don't really remember how… it got brought up. 

“Because, it's embarrassing! Besides, you don't see me asking about everyone you ever slept with!” Wanda says as she waves her hands around. 

“That's because you've already met them all,” you remind her with the same energy she was throwing at you.

“So what, are you calling me a whore now?” She asks with a pointed look. 

“What?! How the hell did you get that idea?” You are thrown off by the accusation. 

“You're not denying it,” Wanda states defensively. 

You shake your head. “No, I'm not calling you a whore because I don't think you're a whore. I just…” you take a moment to think before you speak and make things worse. “You don't have to talk about every hook up. I would just like a heads up whenever I meet them. Or at least if I meet them around you. Like what happened with that one waitress. Did I get upset with you and call you a whore then?” You use your first date as an example because you felt like you handled that pretty well. 

Wanda looks away and bites her lips in thought. “No, but how do I know that you weren't thinking it?” She asks as crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Because, Wanda, you are supposed to trust me when I tell you that I love you and that I don't judge you. Especially for things you did before we started dating.” You step closer in an attempt to disarm her. You gently place both of your hands on her shoulders and gaze into her big green eyes full of insecurities. “I don't judge you, Wanda. I don't think you're a whore, Wanda. I love you, Wanda.” You move your hands up to cup her cheeks and hold her head in your hands. 

Wanda melts to your touch and untangles her arms. She puts her hands on your waist and clutches the fabric of your shirt. Tears spring to her eyes as you maintain your eye contact. Your tone not wavering once. She has no choice but to listen and believe you. 

“You better mean that,” she says as her tears start to uncontrollably fall. You pull her close in a tight embrace to hold her while she breaks down. Free to cry in front of you and process her emotions in your arms. You love her and show her as much as you continue to listen and try to understand where she was coming from when she got upset. 

~~~~

Pietro sits back in his lounge chair as he observes you and Wanda at the grill. It's the end of summer and Wanda thought it would be a good idea to host an end of summer party for the kids. She invited everyone in her inner circle. Agatha and her son Nicholas, Carol and Val, him and his family, and you and your daughter. You and Wanda were chatting quietly to one another while Wanda grilled the meat options. There was something different about the two of you. He couldn't put his finger on it. 

Crystalia bounces Emma in her arms as she returns to Pietro's side. “What are you staring at?” She asks her husband as she sits on the chair beside his. 

“Do they seem… closer?” He asks his wife. Pietro wasn't typically one to gossip or speculate but he knows he can trust his wife with his thoughts. 

Crystalia shakes her head. “Oh no, don't go there again. Come on, it was bad enough you lost money over a stupid bet. Just, leave your sister alone. You know how she can be. Even if there is something to talk about, she's not going to do it if you go badgering her about her personal life.” Then she looks over at you and Wanda and notices the way you're standing close to her in-law. She catches onto the way the two of you smile at each other. How Wanda's eyes flit to your lips and how yours do the same. “Huh, at best they're hooking up,” she says to confirm her husband's suspicions. 

Pietro sits up and takes off his sunglasses. “So you see it too?” He looks like he's about to get up and say something to the couple they're spying on. So Crystalia places Emma in Pietro's hands. “Crys, I can't just let this go. Y/n is my friend, yes, but they're also my employee. This… I have to put a stop to this or do something.” He looks down at the little girl in his hands as she giggles and slobbers on herself. He grins at her then gives his wife a pointed look.

“Pietro, Y/n is your employee but Wanda isn't. They're not breaking any rules. Besides, we don't know anything for certain. Just,” she sighs and gets settled into her seat. “Just relax and leave them alone. They're both adults. And it's not like you haven't said before that you would be thrilled if they got together because you like Y/n and think they'd be perfect together. Honestly, if they did get together, it'd probably be your fault to begin with.” 

Pietro makes a face at the accusation and Emma giggles as she reaches out to touch her father's face. “What are you talking about?” 

Crystalia shrugs, “When Rachel was having problems in school, you suggested that Y/n put her in the same school our nephews attend. And you know how involved that school requires parents to be.” 

Pietro shrugs, “It's a really good school. That doesn't mean anything.” 

Crystalia doesn't buy it. “Oh yeah? Was it really a coincidence that you started to put together company events right after Wanda and Vision split up? No one invited their siblings to those things unless they work for the company but you were constantly inviting Wanda.” 

“She was having a hard time. I thought she could’ve used a reason to get out of the house. She only went to one of those things anyway. And Y/n couldn't even show up to that event,” Pietro defends and his wife scowls. 

“You can't remember our anniversary but you can remember that?” Crystalia asks, only to prove her point. Pietro shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “When Wanda needed work to be done on the house, you asked Y/n to help you. I know you keep saying that it's because they're the best worker or whatever, but you literally could've patched up the wall by yourself. And you would've never acted on extending the house without the appropriate permits the way you did.” 

Pietro shakes his head as he continues to deny this theory his wife has about him essentially being a puppet master for you and his sister. “Okay, I don't think they're together, you just made me realize how crazy I sounded. Because you sound completely mental.” 

“Don't call me mental in front of our daughter,” Crystalia warns. 

“I'm sorry, you're right. Mommy isn't mental Emma,” he whispers to his daughter. She pats his face and starts to tug on his facial hair. He chuckles as he looks up at his wife. “But you've got to admit, you're giving me a lot more credit than I'm worth. You really think I'm that thoughtful?” Crystalia can't help but agree with that statement and decides to drop the subject altogether. 

~~~~

You and Wanda are lounging on her sofa. You are lying vertically on the part of the couch that extends forward. Wanda is lying horizontally along the length of the sofa with her head in your lap. You have your fingers in her hair as you periodically massage her scalp. As the movie begins to lose her attention, she looks up at you and starts to watch you watch the movie. You're zeroed in and completely focused on the plot. She doesn't know how you could find such a movie interesting but she doesn't mind watching you this way instead. 

You don't realize that Wanda's focus is on you until you feel something lightly tickling your stomach. You look down and notice that Wanda is trying to lift your shirt up. “What are you doing?” You ask, startling her slightly. She looks up at you with wide eyes from being caught.

“Nothing,” she shrugs as she removes her hand from your shirt and looks up at you. 

“You wanted to watch this movie, remember?” You remind her with a teasing tone.

“Yeah, well, I lost interest,” she says as she sits up. She moves so that she's sitting on her knees. Wanda bites her bottom lip as she looks at you. “Besides, we've watched plenty of movies together. I think I'm in the mood for something else.” She says as she inches closer to you. She puts her hand on your chest and you raise your eyebrows at her. 

“Do you want to put on some music and dance?” You ask, not wanting to read too much into her touch and actions. But she shakes her head as she maintains eye contact and moves to lock her arms around your neck. “Do you think we're ready for that?” You ask as you catch onto what she's getting at. 

“I'm ready,” she says as she kisses your cheek. “Are you?” She says as she crawls onto your lap. You don't have to give her much of a verbal answer because you can feel that burning desire growing in your body. A desire you haven't felt for anyone before. Even the desire you had for Jean when you were a teenager pales in comparison. You kiss Wanda’s lips and place your hands on her hips. 

“I'm ready,” you say in a harsh whisper. Wanda giggles as she had already gathered that much. She has her hands on your cheeks to keep you close and pull you in to continue kissing you. As her hands hold you steady, your hands begin to explore her body. Your touch is almost as greedy as a teenager experiencing something like this for the first time. Yes, you've touched her body many times since the two of you have started dating. But not like this. Not without restrictions. You are free to explore her however you want and that notion has you aimless with excitement. You don't know where to start first or where to keep your hands. You have to remind yourself that there is plenty of time to explore every inch of her. If not tonight then another night. 

Wanda breaks the kiss and crawls off of your lap and stands up. She looks down at you with a grin. She tips her head towards the stairs. “Come on,” she invites you with her hand out to you. 

You shuffle off of the sofa and rise. You take her hand and all her to guide her towards her room to finally cross the line both of you have been painstakingly avoiding until now.

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @diealittlesometime @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm @casualreadersstuff @neopolitan-torchwick

Chapter 24

[natashasilverfox]

Endearing Entanglements

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You give Natasha a visit in Norway and remind her she has more friends to call on for help.

Warnings: fluff, implied sexual themes

Words: 1300

Pulling up to the safehouse, Natasha’s eyes narrow as she catches a faint trail of smoke curling from the trailer’s ventilation. 

Instinct kicking in, she turns off the engine and quickly reaches for the gun stashed in the glove compartment.

She’s still on the run, and Rick isn’t due to check in for another week, which means the sign of someone else being here is a red flag she can’t ignore.

Sliding out of the car, Natasha moves silently. As she approaches the door, her grip on the weapon tightens as she takes a steadying breath. 

With a practiced calm, she swings open the door, stepping inside swiftly with her gun raised. Her eyes dart across the room, scanning for any immediate threats. 

But instead of chaos or an ambush, she’s met with the quiet, domestic sound of sizzling food.

Your back is to her, the scent of spices mingling in the air as you casually tend to whatever is cooking on the stove. 

You don’t even flinch at her dramatic entrance. 

“You should go freshen up, love. Dinner will be ready in ten,” you say, your tone easy and unbothered, not even sparing a glance in her direction, as though she hadn’t just stormed in with a weapon aimed at your head.

Natasha freezes, her suspicion warring with confusion. She sweeps her gaze around the small trailer once more, confirming that you’re alone, before finally lowering her gun with a disbelieving huff. 

Her tension melts into exasperation as she holsters her weapon and crosses her arms. 

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

You chuckle softly, finally turning to face her. The spatula in your hand gestures toward the small, cluttered living space.

“I came by to drop off your package,” you reply, your tone light but with a teasing edge.

Natasha’s eyes flick to the black case sitting on the rickety table. She knows without opening it what’s inside—customized weapons and gadgets uniquely gathered and prepared for her. 

Like you’ve done countless times before for her.

“I didn’t order anything,” she says skeptically.

“Hmm, you’re right. You didn’t,” you say with an exaggerated nod. “You called Mason instead. And he got you this…quaint little setup.”

The lights flicker as if on cue, emphasizing your skepticism about the condition of the safe house. 

Natasha catches the faint jealous pout in your tone and sighs, moving closer until she’s leaning against the counter beside you. 

“It’s nothing personal,” she murmurs, her voice softening. “I just needed something quick and discreet.”

Your lips twitch into a slight smirk as you turn to her. Without warning, you tug her closer, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

You nip at her bottom lip in reprimand before pulling back, your eyes glinting with amusement.

“Love, isn’t that how most of our…entanglements end up?” 

Natasha huffs a soft laugh, her smirk matching yours. Her hands find your waist, pulling you in closer. 

“How much longer did you say dinner would take?”

Your grin widens as you turn off the stove, tilting your head closer to hers. 

“All done,” you whisper against her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Leaning back against the wall of the trailer, Natasha sits on the bed, a now reheated plate of food in her hands. She eats quietly, her mind half on the simple meal you had prepared and half on the intimate moments you and she shared earlier. 

The room is still, save for the occasional flicker of the dim overhead light and the low murmur of your voice.

At the edge of the bed, you handle a phone call that interrupted your dinner with her. 

“No worries, love, I can get it to you by then,” you say smoothly, your voice oozing charm as you multitask, the phone pressed between your ear and shoulder while you pull on your pants.

Natasha’s brow arches slightly at your casual use of the term of endearment. Setting her plate aside, she moves toward you. 

“Have I ever let you down?” you continue your conversation nonchalantly, though, the slight tilt of your head indicates you notice her movement behind you.

Wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, she leans into you, her warmth pressing against your back. Without a word, she begins trailing soft, deliberate kisses along your bare shoulder, her lips lingering just enough to send a message.

For a split second, your voice falters, the smooth flow of your words disrupted. You clear your throat, attempting to maintain composure.

“I—I gotta go,” you murmur into the phone, your tone edged with faint exasperation as Natasha’s kisses continue. “Mmhmm, I’ll call back later with the details.”

You end the call quickly, sliding the phone onto the table before turning to face her. 

Your expression is a blend of amusement and mock disapproval as you take her in. “Really?”

Natasha shrugs innocently, feigning ignorance as she murmurs against your shoulder, “I thought I was ‘love.’”

Your lips curl into a smirk, your brow quirking as you tilt your head to meet her gaze. 

“Oh, are we making certain things between us exclusive now?” you reply, your tone light but carrying a playful challenge.

Natasha huffs a small laugh and rolls her eyes, pointedly ignoring your question as she leans back on her elbows, watching you with a small smile as you finish getting dressed.

After zipping up your jacket, you lean over the bed, running your hand along her bare legs before resting it on her thigh. 

“I do have other clients besides you, you know,” you say, rubbing your hand in small circles before pinching her skin lightly, “Just like how you have other contractors.”

Natasha slaps your hand away with a scoff. 

“Rick’s just a friend,” she says reassuringly.

You hum thoughtfully, your smirk widening. 

“And you’re the only client I ever end up in bed with.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, unable to hide the flicker of satisfaction at your reassuring words. 

Grinning, you pick up the black case from the table and set it on the bed. 

“So…I guess that means we’ve come to an understanding.”

But Natasha’s smile fades as she pushes the case back toward you. 

“I can’t take that.”

“If it’s about payment, I can give you a discount this time,” you offer, your tone playful. “Considering your…circumstances.”

“It’s not that.” Natasha shakes her head, her gaze dropping to the bed. There’s a moment of hesitation, a rare crack in her usual composure. Finally, she murmurs softly, “I don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

Your expression softens, the teasing edge replaced by something more genuine. You step closer, catching her chin lightly with your fingers, tilting her face up until her eyes meet yours. 

“That’s sweet, love,” you say gently, your voice warm but unwavering. “But unfortunately for you, you’re my favorite client. That means your problems? They matter to me, too.”

Her lips part slightly, a breath catching as the weight of your words settles in. 

You smile, a slow and reassuring curve of your lips, at the sight of the Black Widow so caught off guard by the care laced in your voice and tap her nose playfully in goodbye. 

Before she can respond, you turn on your heel, heading toward the door.

Pausing in the archway, you glance over your shoulder, your silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from outside.

“Oh, and,” you add, your voice carrying a casual charm that hides just how much you mean it, “whenever you want an upgrade from this charming little safehouse, you know how to contact me.”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as you lock eyes with her one last time.

“Always looking forward to your call, love.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Natasha sitting there, a small, fond smile on her lips.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a little cute fluff before I get back into my series. thank you for reading!

[natashasilverfox]

You started a scam religion for a quick buck. You begin to panic when your fake god was actually a real forgotten one awakened from new worshippers, declared you it's high priest, and granted you the power of healing.

[natashasilverfox]

Oooh this looks really good, I can’t wait for the full story!😁

the seventy-eighth life

wanda was startled awake by a loud, screeching sound. the kind that grates on her ears. it was followed next by a cacophony of screams, then a rush of hundreds of footsteps. it seems like this time, she's in an underground bunker.

she takes in her surroundings, the dirt walls, the stone slab that was her bed for who knows how long. it usually takes her a few hours to recollect everything that this body has experienced - its memories.

the only helpful hand that the universe provides for whenever the first iteration of wanda reincarnates is that she is thankfully aware of who she is and what her sins are.

she is wanda maximoff. and her pride and arrogance cost her everything.

wanda flexes her fingers, bends and pops each knuckles. she stares at them, decidedly pale and pinkish and without the black taint of the darkhold's malice. it always catches her off guard, despite having lived with them bare for centuries more than she's had them.

someone tears the makeshift door to her room, a young man bursts through, "we need to evacuate, miss wanda. the enemies have found this location and are soon upon us."

she follows him, joining the stampede outside. she runs with them to what is possibly one of the exits. she hopes you're not here. and also that you are not with the opposite faction.

then as if the whole of cosmos is conspiring against her, she looks up and she knows it’s you. there, just a few bodies ahead. you've always been taller than her, something that she's infinitely grateful for, as it makes it easier to find you in a crowd.

wanda tries her best to run faster, to cut in between everyone else so that she reaches you. she was never able to find you this fast, in the previous lives. the circumstances are terrible, that's for sure, but still. she is here and there you are.

but then there's an explosion ahead and everybody either tries to run back or crouch down.

she sees you turn around and you lock eyes with her. there's no recognition in the first few seconds, but then there's a gasp. small, silent. but oh so loud to wanda that you might have breathed out directly to her ear.

she can make out the first syllable of her name being uttered by you, but she doesn't hear it. not when it starts raining bullets.

wanda sees you fall to the ground and she knows you've died before her again. just like the first life you've shared with her.

[natashasilverfox]

This is a lovely addition to the previous story little Yelena is so adorable I love her!😍

A Perfect Mix

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + Family

Word Count: 1.8K

This follows on from the last fic I've posted.

.

Noone saw Natasha’s strengths as a mother like you did.

There was something almost clumsy about the force of her love.

When Yelena was born, Natasha had been overwhelmed with the feeling. When she first looked down at the baby in her arms, Natasha forgot how to breathe. You watched the beginning of an uncontrollable love. 

Yelena had always looked up to Natasha with a wide-eyed awe. Even when she was very little, if Natasha came into the room, Yelena’s gaze would find her, following her every movement excitedly. 

Natasha had never expected to be the favourite parent, not even for a brief moment. Yelena quickly reset her expectations. She wasn’t shy in showing her delight for her Mom. You watched her smile and coo and giggle easily just at the sight of Natasha. 

At first, Natasha had been careful, almost shy in her responses to her daughter’s affection. She held Yelena carefully, like she was the most fragile thing in the world. She couldn’t help but give Yelena her softest smiles. 

You loved seeing this side of her. You knew Natasha’s gentleness better than anyone. It was a trait that she couldn’t help with the people she loved. In the past, you’d felt her try to avoid it. A fear of rejection and vulnerability that you could forgive easily.

Yelena made Natasha brave. She loved Natasha and she expected Natasha to love her too.

Natasha never let her down.

.

The very first time Yelena had walked, she’d wandered unsteadily over to Natasha. You’d swallowed a cheer of excitement, scrambling to find your phone to record the moment.

Yelena’s face had split into a delighted grin, thrilled that her newly acquired skill was helping her get to her Mom faster. 

When she made it, Natasha scooped her into a careful hug and you watched her eyes close. 

It was only when you heard her murmur ‘Well done’ in a choked voice that you realised she was holding back tears. 

Yelena was special. Just by being herself, she made Natasha feel special too.

.

You started to become stubborn in your belief that Yelena was a perfect mix of yourself and Natasha.

.

You explained your theory to Natasha one night as you were both on the verge of sleep. You felt Natasha’s gaze clinging to you through the dark, in that hopeful way that made her seem young. You felt her fingers lazily tracing your pulse point.

‘You’re brave and kind. And so is she.’ You explained simply. 

Natasha hesitated at the compliment; her fingers paused for a moment on your skin but she didn’t vocalise any disagreement. Yelena’s emerging personality was undeniably similar to Natasha’s.

After a moment, Natasha cleared her throat and asked. 

‘What about you?’

You grinned in anticipation, your answer well prepared. 

‘Well.’ You started slowly, reaching to find Natasha’s face in the dark, your thumb brushing her lips to ascertain their exact location. ‘She’s incredibly smart, of course.’

You moved closer to Natasha in the bed. You could feel her smile of agreement beneath your thumb. 

Natasha was trying to be lowkey about her belief that Yelena was the world’s next great genius. But you’d caught her the other day, very preemptively, researching a Stark scholarship programme for high achievers.

‘And I know she’s so smart because she figured out immediately that Natasha Romanoff is the best person in the world.’

You kissed Natasha quickly before she could roll her eyes or argue your point. Instead, you felt her smile harder against your lips, clearly aware of your scheme.

.

Even though she’d had it her whole life, Yelena’s faith in her mother always seemed completely fresh. You loved that it had never wavered. 

You could tell it scared Natasha.

You knew the pressure of that faith weighed heavily on her. Yelena trusted her wholeheartedly because she loved the Mom she’d always known. At first, she couldn’t conceive of the person Natasha had been before that.

It was when Yelena turned four that she first understood what her extended family had been hinting at every time they visited. After an afternoon spent with some of Natasha’s closest friends, ‘Avenger’ was no longer a meaningless word to Yelena. Instead, it became a special term of honour used by those around her. 

The leap of understanding wasn’t hard for her. For Yelena, her Mom was already a superhero.

Now, almost relentlessly, she would crawl onto the sofa next to Natasha and ask for stories. 

Yelena had a way of sneaking up on you. Natasha fell for it every single time. Sometimes she’d find herself cornered unexpectedly and catch your eye from across the room. You’d just grin back knowingly. Yelena would twist pieces of Natasha’s long hair as she asked for yet another story from her past. Natasha’s hand would stay pressed lightly at the small of her back, making sure her enthusiastic climbing never ended badly.

Natasha’s voice always sounded gravelly when she told those stories. For a woman trained in hiding her emotions, her subtlety was often forgotten. Natasha’s eyes would flicker nervously over to you whenever she obviously abridged a more traumatic story. 

At first, she was hesitant to ever mention the alien invasion in New York, sure it would give Yelena nightmares. Eventually, she’d brought it up hesitantly, recounting it more like a fairytale than anything else. 

Yelena, of course, latched onto the idea with more enthusiasm than anything before. She built aliens and spaceships out of cereal boxes. Her favourite game was pretending to be an Avenger saving the world from an other-worldly danger. Even when she asked Natasha to play with her, Yelena always insisted on being the Black Widow. Nothing made you laugh harder than when Natasha was relegated to play the role of ‘Hulk’ in her own story.

.

It wasn’t surprising that Yelena asked for a Black Widow action figure doll for Christmas that year. Nonetheless, you felt a kind of sharp pride when you read through her list for Santa. It was more crayon than words but you immediately recognised the red black widow symbol clumsily drawn in the centre of the page.

Yelena asked you twice to put an urgent stamp on her letter, clearly sceptical of non-reindeer delivery services.

.

You didn’t tell Natasha about Yelena’s request, happy to wait for her reaction on Christmas Day. 

You were grateful for Yelena’s love of your wife’s alter-ego. You loved the way that the ‘Black Widow’ had become something more simple in your family; an easy shorthand for your wife’s bravery. 

.

Having Yelena in your lives now made Christmas twice as exciting and intense. You loved it. 

The day began with the simple perfection you cherished. 

Natasha gave you a sleepy smile over a cup of coffee, loose pieces of her tied back hair floating around her head. Her red and white pyjamas were patterned in a Christmas theme. Her fluffy reindeer socks had been a present unwrapped earlier.

Yelena screamed, half wild with holiday excitement, as she unwrapped the Black Widow box. She hugged the plastic casing and turned to you both with shiny eyes and an overwhelming smile.

You smiled back immediately, loving the feeling of sharing her joy. You listened to her excited chatter, holding out the box so you could get a better look.

You didn’t get a chance to see Natasha’s reaction, before you felt a hurried movement to the side of you.

Natasha left the room abruptly and your heart sunk with the dawning realisation that you’d misjudged the moment. You followed her covertly, leaving as soon as Yelena turned to Lila for help getting the doll out of the packaging.

You found Natasha silently shaking in the hallway, her back pressed to the wall. You recognised the emotions that had come to an unexpected head. Natasha would never call this feeling anxiety. Still, her eyes clung to yours, seeking the grounding that you knew how to give her. 

The sinking feeling in your chest crystallised. Natasha looked small, her arms wrapped around herself. 

You realised suddenly, that Natasha didn’t see herself in the stories that Yelena loved. You thought of all the details that Natasha omitted in her careful retellings. 

Black Widow didn’t make her feel brave. Only her family did. 

You moved towards her carefully, hugging her in an expression of unspoken regret and comfort. Natasha fit so familiarly in your arms. As always, you revelled in the nearness of her. Natasha’s warm embrace was home. Her head rested slightly on your shoulder and the comfortable silence between you stretched out. Her breathing steadied in the quiet seconds that followed. You felt calmer too, as if you could feel her slowing heartbeat in your own chest.

Family made you feel brave too.

.

The door from the living room was flung open less than a minute later. Yelena’s unaware delight was almost painfully endearing. 

‘Mama.’ She called out to Natasha. You barely had time to open your embrace before Yelena was confidently sneaking between the pair of you. She lifted the doll above her head so that Natasha could have a better look. 

‘I love her.’ She declared and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your face.

You tried to take the pressure away from Natasha as best you could, redirecting Yelena’s focus.

‘Santa must have read your list baby.’ You told her, brushing loose hair away from her eyes. Yelena gave you a secret smile, obviously remembering her earlier worries about the North Pole’s mailing system. 

Your attempt was ineffective. Like a magnet, her attention returned to Natasha.

Sometimes, Yelena didn’t seem quite as unaware as you believed. You weren’t sure what she read in Natasha’s often hesitant gaze. Her arms wrapped around Natasha’s leg confidently and you watched her squeeze tightly. 

‘Don’t worry Mama, I still love you just as much.’ Yelena assured her seriously, cheek pressed against her Mom’s side. 

Natasha met your gaze as her hand moved with instinctive protectiveness to the space between Yelena’s shoulders. There was a lightness in her eyes and you smiled knowingly. 

Yelena’s serious tone was starting to sound a lot like your own. Another part of the perfect mix. 

‘Well, I win because I love you the most.’ Natasha replied playfully, letting any last remnants of sadness evaporate. In one quick movement, that had taken years of confidence for Natasha to do casually, she lifted Yelena up above her head, swinging her exaggeratedly back and forth until she started shrieking with laughter. 

Their matching grins looked like reflections of each other. It was right then, alone together in the hallway, that you realised Natasha’s faith in Yelena was just as absolute.

When she caught her breath, cheeks flushed from excitement. Yelena turned to you eagerly.

‘I need to have a doll of you for my birthday.’ She informed you. 

‘There is no doll of me.’ You commiserated teasingly as you all headed back to the living room together. Natasha’s hand slipped around your waist, just as her other one rested on Yelena’s shoulder.

‘Oh don’t worry.’ Natasha told you, a glint of mischief behind her reassuring smile. ‘We’ll make sure to find one.’

[natashasilverfox]

This is one of the most beautifully written, fluffy and heartbreaking Natasha Romanoff stories I’ve ever read. You’ve equally had me in tears, laughing and smiling throughout the entire story…. Thank you!🥹❤️💐

Someone Familiar

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K

.

Being able to build a family with the person you loved was a privilege. You knew that for Natasha, it was also a miracle.

Natasha did not believe in luck, only the absence of it. You could understand why good things made her nervous. You saw the effects of her childhood, of her entire life, every day.

Your relationship had clashed with Natasha’s understanding of the world. She’d told you, on your second date, that love was for children. Her brow had knitted in confusion when that had made you kiss her harder.

Natasha saw herself as fundamentally lacking because of her past. Natasha radiated steady love and then wondered why you trusted her.

You knew it was tied to the graduation ceremony that she’d been subjected to in the Red Room. It had taken years for her to believe in your relationship, in the simple success of it.

In a way, you understood her hesitance. There were too many pieces that had fallen into place. Too many hurdles cleared at the last second. 

Together, you had already built something better than Natasha had ever hoped for. Then, one day, you asked her to build something new together.

.

You took the positive pregnancy test when Natasha was on a mission. You’d been trying for several months already. 

Each negative test had stung more than either of you knew how to process. Everytime, your heart would sink heavily and you’d try to smooth out your expression. You’d meet Natasha’s wide-eyed stare and watch a raw anxiety wash over her. You hated that look more than anything. Natasha had held your hand and taken a leap of faith with you. With every negative test you felt like you were letting her down, asking her to have hope when there was no guarantee. 

There was always an awful kind of silence after a negative result. Hearing Natasha’s shallow breaths echoing in the tiled bathroom. You’d bring your arms around her slowly, only tightening your hold as she folded into your arms. You’d wrap yourself around her softly, like a blanket, making your own heavy disappointment lighter so that you could carry some of hers.

‘It’s only negative this month.’ You would remind her carefully, repeating words you weren’t sure that you believed. After a moment, Natasha would kiss your cheek and you’d know by the way she avoided your lips that it was meant as an apology. Natasha was always apologising for what she couldn’t give you. 

Natasha didn’t chase happiness, because she didn’t know how to have it. 

.

When she first met you, every moment together felt a little frantic. She held your hand on unofficial dates and you watched her unsurely, waiting for her to change her mind. Kisses felt unintentional, hurried but passionate as if neither of you could help it any longer. 

You couldn’t decide who this woman was, why the pieces of her didn’t quite fit together. You wondered when Natasha was ever just herself.

Initially, you only saw it in glimpses. But, Natasha shone through the smallest of cracks.

At night you faced each other in the bed, restfully watching each other in the silence. There was an electric kind of comfort in the space between you. It was those silent moments, in between heartbeats and shallow breaths, that made you certain of Natasha. That you fit together in a perfect way. 

Natasha would lift her hand hesitantly and run her fingers over your skin. She drew light patterns that never seemed to end. You watched her marvel at the fact you were still in her bed. That you weren’t leaving. That you thought you could be whole with her. 

For you, pregnancy was a dream worth chasing. A future that you could build with the person you loved. For Natasha, making a family was soaked in her own failing. The way she saw herself was unfair, it was untrue. Still, the feeling lingered.

It was past midnight when you took the positive pregnancy test. You’d had an inexplicable feeling and you’d been correct.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You barely recognised the person you saw, the giddy excitement reflected in your eyes. Natasha wasn’t there, but you heard your own hitched breaths echoing in the room and felt your joy double on her behalf.

.

You made no plan for how to tell Natasha. You knew the news would be surprise enough. 

In the end, you didn’t even have to say the words.

Natasha walked through the front door around midday. A scheduled mission had overrun and she’d come home straight from the formal debriefing. You were leaning awkwardly against the back of the sofa, perched in anticipation as soon as you heard her car pull into the drive. 

Subtle tension left Natasha’s face when she entered her home. Her smile widened in pleasure at the sight of you. Your returning one was soft and careful.

Natasha scanned your expression casually as she walked towards you. There was a second of normalcy where you met her unsuspecting smile. Your rapid heartbeat thudded in your own ears. Her scan of your face faltered and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Your smile widened as her eyes searched yours more closely. Your head dipped briefly in confirmation.

Natasha exhaled all at once, as if she’d finally been allowed to breathe. She dropped suddenly to her knees, a few feet from you. Her hand touched her own waist, bracing as the shock rolled through her. Her mouth stayed open but no air reentered her lungs.

You moved forward instinctively and your hand touched her shoulder. Natasha’s eventual inhale was long and ragged. Her hand brushed the back of your leg. You’d become adept at reading the muted signals of Natasha’s emotions. For the first time, there was nothing subtle in her expression of surprise.

Your hand moved to brush the top of her head, trying to ground her in the reality of the good news. Natasha looked up at you and her eyes had the same sparkle that you’d seen in your own in the bathroom mirror. You grinned familiarly. 

Now that Natasha knew, the reality was settling with you too.

Her hands slid hesitantly under the front of your shirt. Her fingers grazed your stomach reverently. The warmth of her touch settled your jittering nerves for a moment. She started drawing light patterns across your skin and her lips pressed against your midriff. You loved her completely.

Natasha’s hands continued to trail up your sides as she returned slowly to her feet. Now, her fingers touched your face. She looked at you like you might not be real. You could feel the tremor in her touch.

‘Are you sure?’ She asked you suddenly, fingers stilling against your cheeks. You smiled even wider. You nodded again. 

‘We’re having a baby.’ You said simply. The words sounded too much like fantasy. You took her hand and led her to the bathroom, to show her the test that had confirmed every impossible hope.

.

Natasha moved into a new kind of overdrive from that day forward. Nine months stretched before you like a precarious blessing. 

Natasha gravitated around you whenever she could. The casual hand around your waist became a constant when you were together. There was a redheaded shadow for every mundane errand. It was flattering and a little unnerving to have such unadulterated attention. 

Still, you saw the lingering carefulness in the way Natasha looked at you. The insecurities that led her to seek out reasons to touch you. It was fear that made her throat close up when you wondered aloud about baby names.

.

You were sure that Natasha was waiting anxiously for the bump to appear. 

One morning, you caught her lingering, arms folded as she leaned against the bedroom wall. You were half naked, removing your pyjama top, when you noticed her interested gaze. You smirked as you turned around, lifting your clean shirt from the bed.

‘You can see your baby whenever you want.’ You reminded Natasha lightly, filling with a gentle kind of love for her. You held your smirk, waiting to see hers in return. 

Your heartbeat stumbled when she glanced back at you with a hesitant incredulity. You placed the shirt back on the bed and reached out to Natasha instead. Natasha moved closer, her eyes watching your bare stomach nervously.

You ignored the way her stare made you feel like a stranger. She was always familiar to you.

Slowly, you pressed her hand softly against your stomach. Natasha knew your body well enough to recognise the slight change that couldn’t yet be seen. Her other hand moved to mirror the first. You felt her warm palms slide hesitantly along your bare skin. Your breath hitched and Natasha blinked in surprise at the effect of her touch. You watched her expression change as she felt the first proof that the baby was there. Her eyes flitted up to meet yours and you recognised what you saw there. 

Natasha loved the baby already. You wanted to tell her that you understood, that you felt the same.

Your throat closed up when Natasha’s lips found your collarbone. 

Suddenly, she was whispering hurried ‘Thank yous” against your skin. You moaned at the brush of her lips, though her words didn’t sit well with you. You wondered if Natasha understood how much the baby was already hers to love.

.

Natasha would have walked through fire with you. Still, you hated having to make her watch your morning sickness unfold. The waves of nausea found you in sudden onslaughts throughout the day. 

You tried to push through it, ignoring Natasha’s clenched jaw as she watched you gingerly pick at your food.

Every time you ended up running to the bathroom, Natasha insisted on sitting with you on the miserable cold tiles. Her hand rubbed familiar circles along the small of your back. Her touch was filled with concern, but it still soothed you. Natasha always brought you balance.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself crying at every mealtime. The morning sickness refused to lessen and a new sort of uselessness flooded you whenever you couldn’t keep a meal down. Each time, Natasha wiped your tears silently before she cleared away barely touched dishes. You watched her move through the kitchen, her eyes closing for long moments as she fought her own frustrated tears.

You could feel Natasha’s misery at being unable to fix it for you.

The feeling of failure only highlighted your wife’s resilience. 

Natasha tried every non-threatening food she could think of. She returned from grocery shopping with bags filled with the blandest foods imaginable. 

Nothing worked. 

You tried to hydrate as much as possible, tried to frame whatever food you did keep down as a positive. Still, you knew Natasha was starting to internalise your continued sickness as part of her own incapability.

Everything that she cooked or scoured from the shelves at the grocery store was rejected emphatically by the baby.

.

At last, your body finally granted you reprieve, just as the doctor had assured Natasha on several occasions. 

You woke from an afternoon nap, indulging in the lazy weekend feeling of being at home with your wife. Selfishly, you loved being sure of Natasha’s proximity in the house. You wondered absentmindedly if Maria had had a heart attack when Natasha announced she was going to take all her unused time off, effective immediately.  

You wandered sleepily through to the kitchen and over to Natasha. She was sitting with her back to you at the counter, scrolling on her laptop.

You rested your chin on her shoulder, snaking your arms around her back and letting out a satisfied sigh. Natasha let out an answering huff of laughter, leaning back slightly into your hold. There was a small jar of caviar open on the table. You knew she was sneaking it whenever she thought you wouldn’t have to see it. Your nose still scrunched at the thought of consuming something so fishy.

‘I want Mac n Cheese.’ You mumbled unthinkingly as a yawn overtook you suddenly. 

Natasha stiffened in her chair and she turned to face you. 

Her hand touched your chest, tilting back slightly so she could better assess your yawning expression.

‘Really?’ She asked you carefully. ‘You’re hungry?’

You smiled suddenly with the realisation that you were finally feeling able to eat.

‘All I want is Mac ‘n Cheese.’ You confirmed readily. Natasha got to her feet instantly. She looked at you for a moment and you revelled in the fondness of her attention. Her hands squeezed your shoulders in obvious satisfaction.

‘I have to run to the store.’ She rushed out hurriedly, kissing your lips briefly but emphatically. 

Natasha’s love felt like a hot shower, encompassing and addictive. You watched her fly through the house, grabbing her keys and wallet. Her enthusiasm for you caught like a lump in your throat. You fought tears as you gave her a half wave, matching her wide grin as she glanced back before heading out the door.

.

Natasha’s mac and cheese tasted like heaven. As you helped yourself to a third helping, you began to feel sure that this was also your first craving.

Natasha had barely eaten any herself, continually putting her fork down as she watched you moan with delight with each bite. You grinned unashamedly, too blissed out from the relief of keeping the food down and the deliciousness of the meal itself.

‘How have we never eaten this before?’ You asked Natasha dramatically. Her answering smile was soft. 

‘I had it a lot as a kid.’ She answered succinctly. Your surprise was evident, her reply was not what you’d expected. You tried to comprehend the Red Room ever providing Western classic dishes.

Natasha’s head shook in anticipation of your confusion.

‘I spent a few years in Ohio.’ She told you, a tightness in her voice as she forced a casual stab at some pasta with her fork. ‘It was an early mission.’

You stayed silent, knowing far more was omitted than what had been shared. Natasha stabbed another piece of pasta and you reached out automatically to touch her arm. Natasha glanced back at you and suddenly, she looked much younger.

You hated the people who had taken her childhood.

‘Was Mac n Cheese your favourite food?’ You asked, ignoring how strange it was for such an unassuming question to hold such weight. Natasha looked down at her plate when she shook her head. The food started to rest more heavily in your stomach.

‘Not my favourite.’ Natasha clarified in a carefully level voice. ‘Someone else’s.’ She paused again, choosing the right words. ‘A friend’s.’

Natasha looked back at you and you met her gaze steadily. No part of Natasha hinted that she felt off balance. Still, you caught the nervous energy emanating from her.

Your thumb brushed her arm soothingly and you didn’t ask any follow up questions. You both knew that she never had any friends in the Red Room.

‘Maybe it’s the baby’s favourite too.’ You said lightly, trying to alleviate the unspoken sadness that had settled between you. 

You stood up, moving to clear the dishes. You took the opportunity to kiss Natasha’s forehead.

‘At least it’s not caviar.’ You muttered teasingly, stealing Natasha’s fork and the piece of macaroni on the end of it. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and you knew she was settled by your familiar tease about her favourite food.

She stood up too, moving behind you suddenly. Her arms stretched around you to take the empty dishes from your hand, a silent insistence to leave the clearing of the table to her. Her lips touched your cheek and you felt immediate warmth spread through you at her affection. Pregnancy made Natasha’s love even more overwhelming.

Her lips lingered by your ear.

‘That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of time to teach them about having good taste.’ Natasha promised you, kissing you again before taking the dishes to the kitchen.

You stayed quiet, hiding a sudden beaming smile. You wondered if Natasha realised that she’d started making plans as a Mom.

.

Natasha circled the date of your sonogram on the calendar. 

The calendar was already your favourite item in the whole house. Natasha had bought it a few weeks after you’d found out that you were pregnant. She’d filled in every important date that she could think of before hanging it in the front hall. 

You had a suspicion that she was trying to recreate the domestic family life that she’d seen played out in movies. Natasha, the professional spy, was not who you’d expect to display important upcoming dates for anyone to view. 

Your heart felt fuller and heavier when you saw Natasha attempt to become the Mom she wasn’t quite sure how to be.

You ached when you realised how little she had to go on. Natasha could learn anything and you watched her work to understand what she was missing. 

Her bedtime reading became exclusively books for expectant parents. She studied with a quiet purpose that made you wonder if she was expecting a test at the hospital.

As the day of the sonogram approached, the two of you mentioned it less and less. There was a heightened feeling of anticipation that was hard to acknowledge. 

You knew that Natasha didn’t actually care about the sex of the baby. Natasha didn’t believe in horoscopes either. Still, you’d found her plotting out the zodiac the other day, trying to figure out which star signs were likely for your baby.

Natasha was impatient to know her kid better. You related to the feeling entirely.

The silence on the drive to the appointment was full of awkward anticipation. You tried not to focus on your growing need to pee. They’d told you to drink some water before the appointment and you’d gone a little overboard. You turned on the radio for distraction, tuning in unexpectedly to a ‘Cheesy Hits’ station. 

Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers filled the car and relieved the tension. Natasha’s fingers started tapping out the beat on the dashboard. The shift in the air was tangible and, suddenly, you felt like you were going on an adventure together. 

‘Dolly for a girl and Kenny for a boy?’ You suggested with a smirk, making sure to keep your eyes on the road ahead. Natasha was not thrilled by your insistence on driving today and you were determined to be the perfect model of safety behind the wheel.

Natasha leaned back against her head rest and you could feel her eyes on you as she turned to face you.

‘Mickey or Minnie.’ She suggested drily.

Your lips pressed together as you tried not to laugh. 

‘Barbie or Ken.’ You countered and Natasha snorted. There was silence in the car and you knew Natasha was trying to think of something to make you laugh.

‘Kermit or Miss Piggy.’ She suggested suddenly and you found yourself desperately trying not to pee as you drove.

The giddiness you felt, as you checked in at the reception, reminded you of that first day together when you’d known that you were pregnant. Natasha’s fingers were interlaced with yours and her touch grounded you. 

You didn’t speak in the waiting room, filled with a shared understanding of the moment. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave your belly. The baby was part of you and so was Natasha. The three of you felt like one person.

Natasha told you that the jelly was going to feel cold before the nurse could. You wondered if she knew it from movies or from her studying. 

Natasha was trying so hard to be a good mom. Things were already too heightened and you started crying unexpectedly. Natasha used her free hand to stroke your hair comfortingly.

‘Soon.’ She promised soothingly and you knew she thought you were crying with anticipation of the scan. 

Natasha made your heart beat. 

Soon, the room was filled with the sound of the baby’s heart beating too.

When the grainy black and white image of your child appeared on the screen, Natasha stopped squeezing your hand. Your eyes moved between the screen and her expression. Unadulterated longing was written across her face. Her eyes turned to you and you met her gaze readily. Her desperate hope mellowed as she watched your steady joy.

Natasha’s smile turned wide and free. You had never seen her entirely unburdened before. Your eyes turned back to the screen, loving your baby entirely. 

The nurse informed you that it was a girl and the announcement didn’t even register. Natasha started crying, burying her head against your shoulder. Your arm curved around her back automatically. The nurse smiled at you and you smiled back. You felt free too.

You started laughing when you were back in the car. Elton John played out the speakers and Natasha stared down at a picture of your baby.

‘That’s your daughter.’ You reminded her happily. Natasha shook her head but her eyes stayed fixed on the picture.

‘I’m dreaming.’ She said dazedly and something about her tone made you blink back tears again. 

You didn’t have the right words. 

Instead, you placed Natasha’s hand back onto your rounded stomach. There was no absence of proof now that her dreams were coming true.

You didn’t drive back home immediately. You couldn’t resist heading to the baby store instead. When you took a left turn and Natasha realised your intention, she sent you an indulgent smile.

You wandered through the baby clothes section with a languid kind of confidence. You were going to have a daughter. Your skin tingled with happiness.

Natasha sought out a store assistant as you browsed. She wanted to know about the safety ratings on cribs. You couldn’t stop smiling when you heard her begin the interaction by announcing that she was expecting a daughter. The store assistant answered her questions readily and caught your interest in the clothing section of the aisle.

‘These are always my favourite.’ She told you conspiratorially as she approached, picking up a onesie that read ‘World’s Best Sister.’

‘We don’t need that.’ Natasha informed her immediately in a level voice. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her corrective tone. 

‘Not yet.’ You added, sharing a smile with the store assistant before turning back to face Natasha. 

You expected to see playful exasperation in her expression. Instead, you saw a fierce and inexplicable kind of hurt. Natasha’s gaze was painful to meet. The store assistant saw it too, she placed the outfit back and moved away quietly.

‘Natasha.’ You started hesitantly, feeling entirely unsure of yourself. Natasha just shook her head. Everything felt raw and you knew from the way her eyes darted around the store that this wasn’t the right time.

You kissed her cheek in wordless apology. You led Natasha out of the store, expecting some insistence that you should finish browsing. Her continued silence made you worried. 

You saw the way that she swallowed uncomfortably and felt a corresponding lump rise up in your own throat. You didn’t have to understand the sources of Natasha’s pain to feel it too.

You let the Cheesy Hits station continue to play as you drove home. The silence was tense, but the music still offered some sort of reprieve.

You started humming along as the tune of ‘American Pie’ began to play. At first, you didn’t notice the change in Natasha’s breathing. Her hand gripped your arm suddenly and you startled at the unexpected touch.

You glanced over to her and caught her struggling to take a breath. Illogically, your first thought was that she was choking. Then, you heard her rattling inhale and recognised the panic attack. 

Anxiety flooded you too as you tried to keep driving safely. 

‘What is it?’ You asked stupidly as you started moving hurriedly through the lanes of traffic.

Natasha’s words were fearful and they didn’t make any sense.

‘I think my sister is dead.’ She told you as the shaky breaths turned to ragged sobs. 

You pulled over at the side of the road. You moved towards Natasha, ignoring the uncomfortable sound of the other cars rushing past.

‘Breathe love.’ You directed her calmly, resting your hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her.

With military effort, Natasha forced herself to breathe regularly. The sound was still shaky and her inhales were desperate. You’d never seen her spiral like that before.

You turned off the radio unthinkingly and Natasha sagged with a weighted kind of relief. You glanced at the car speakers in alarm. You tried to guess what her words could have meant. 

Natasha’s breathing regulated and you confirmed your suspicion.

‘The song?’ You checked carefully. Natasha nodded once, blowing out a slow breath.

‘You have a sister?’ You asked now and she nodded one more time, eyes squeezing shut for a second. You nodded too, trying to reconcile this new piece of information.

‘At the store.’ You began softly as the pieces clicked. Natasha gave you a pained look in confirmation.

‘That song was her favourite.’ She told you in between carefully controlled breaths.

You couldn’t help your eyebrows raising in confusion. The song was too American to fit with Natasha’s past. In a flash, you remembered the Mac and Cheese. You remembered her ‘friend’ in Ohio, you wondered how long that early mission could have lasted.

‘I don’t know where she is. She could have died in the Red Room.’ Natasha confessed and her eyes were filled with an awful self-loathing. You wondered how long she’d been living with this private grief. 

‘Can you track her down?’ You asked her unsurely, feeling the conversation drain away all your earlier joy.

‘I mean, can we track her down?’ You corrected immediately, because Natasha wasn’t doing this alone.

‘No.’ Natasha shook her head and her voice caught. ‘She, uh, she wouldn't want to see me.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ You prompted quietly and Natasha nodded. 

‘We’re not. We weren’t real sisters. There was a mission. It was all pretend.’

You could see the guilt resting on Natasha’s shoulders, you watched her bend forward under the weight of it. Her hands covered her face briefly. 

‘That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel real.’ You reminded her quietly. ‘Blood doesn’t make family.’ 

You took her hand then, it felt too cold. Instinctively, you covered it with both of your own, trying to give her warmth. You ignored the fleeting concern that Natasha wouldn’t see her daughter as really hers either.

Natasha shook her head slowly and abruptly you were sure that you’d said the wrong thing.

‘It felt too real.’ Natasha murmured. ‘She was too young. She didn’t know the truth. Not until they sent us back to the Red Room.’

‘Oh, Natasha.’ You said softly, because your heart was breaking. Your arm slid softly along her arched back.

Sometimes, you could imagine Natasha as a kid, the abandoned girl that monsters had raised. You had seen how protective Natasha was of you, of the child that was still inside of you. You imagined another little girl, trusting Natasha as family. 

You ached for Natasha’s loss, for the failure you knew she saw as hers.

.

‘She might be living happily somewhere, just like you.’ The words fell out of your mouth that evening. You were already in bed, you’d placed the sonogram photo on top of your nightstand. Your mood had swung sharply all day between bubbling joy and weighted tension. 

Natasha was undressing at the foot of your bed. Her breath caught and she looked at you. You saw the same desperate longing in her eyes as you had at the sonogram. You felt the urge to keep speaking.

‘If she’s anything like you. She’ll be busy causing trouble and making a family of her own. She’s your sister, it’s not impossible.’ 

The images sounded too fantastical and you paused uncertainly. Natasha’s eyes clung to yours. She moved over to you, hands touching your thighs as she crawled up the bed. Natasha looked vulnerable and your eyes searched hers carefully, trying to determine what she was looking for.

She lifted your top slowly and pressed her lips to your belly. You watched her reverence and felt a slow heat build inside you. Natasha kept moving up your body and you felt her breasts brush over you as she curved herself around you.

When she reached your mouth, she leaned in to kiss you. There was the slightest hesitation and then you felt her gratitude for your farfetched comfort. Giving Natasha hope was all you knew how to do.

Natasha pressed her lips against yours for a second time. When the kiss broke, more words fell from your mouth.

‘What was her name?’ You asked simply.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha replied and the sound of it was precious.

.

You celebrated Natasha’s birthday on the 1st of December. It was unlikely to be her actual date of birth, but it was the one she used. All Natasha knew was that she’d been born in winter. 

Your baby was also going to be born in winter, but not until the new year. You felt too large now, missing the simple flexibility that you’d taken for granted your whole life.

You’d had plenty of time to think of a birthday present for Natasha. A Russian ballet had seemed like a risky surprise. You’d asked her about it before you’d booked the tickets. 

Natasha’s smile had been shy at your suggestion.

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She informed you hesitantly and you wondered if you’d ever stop finding new ways to love her.

Her birthday had been a languid and casual affair. You were getting tired more easily and yet hormones had woken you before daybreak with unbearable excitement. 

Your eagerness had lasted through most of the lunch at her favourite restaurant. Natasha had flushed self-consciously in front of her friends when you kissed her enthusiastically after she cut the cake. 

Clint’s sarcastic applause seemed to rally Natasha and she marked your nose teasingly with a piece of frosting just to make him roll his eyes.

By the time you returned home, you were living in a new state of exhaustion. Natasha ended up driving in silence whilst you napped in the passenger seat. 

You knew she didn’t mind. Natasha gently led you back into the house and onto the sofa. Your eyes barely opened, trusting her guidance entirely. You remembered nothing after the moment your head had touched the sofa cushion.

You startled awake when Natasha’s fingers lightly touched your shoulder. You smiled lazily when you saw her face hovering above yours.

‘Happy Birthday!’ You told her, arms going wide in a half stretch and half celebration.

Natasha stared down at your upside down smile and blinked back tears. 

You were no stranger now to sudden rushes of happiness. You moved her hands over to your belly. 

‘You can’t get one of these every year.’ You mumbled, still sounding half asleep. ‘Takes much more baking than a cake does.’

Natasha laughed easily, the sound bubbling up in a way that was rare for her. You grinned with satisfaction and your eyes closed for another brief moment as you soaked in the warmth of it.

Natasha helped you to sit up. She lingered awkwardly next to you on the sofa. You knew instinctively what she wanted to do. You lifted your top slightly and gave her a knowing smirk.

‘Love you.’ Natasha mumbled as she kissed your bump. Her cheeks reddened and she purposefully avoided your eye contact as she straightened up. Still, her hand reached out to help you as you moved to leave the sofa. 

When you stood up, you didn’t let go of Natasha's hand. You tapped her wrist twice and Natasha turned to face you automatically.

‘You can’t be shy about loving your daughter.’ You reminded Natasha quietly, trailing your fingers up and down her bare forearm. 

Natasha’s embarrassment flickered for a moment and then turned into something quieter. Her lips touched your neck as she brought you close to her. You felt her cheeks touch your skin as she started to smile widely.

‘I can’t believe I have a daughter.’ Natasha whispered, more to herself than to you. 

You grinned suddenly, hearing the dawning realisation in Natasha’s voice that never went away.

‘I can’t believe I married such a MILF.’ You teased back, arms wrapping around her. Natasha’s head tilted and she left small kisses up the side of your neck.

Since your second trimester, Natasha could turn you on with a wink. You moaned loudly at the sensation of Natasha’s lips on your skin and you felt her smile again.

‘Ballet.’ You choked out, trying to stay focused. ‘Ballet, Birthday.’

‘Ballet.’ Natasha repeated and her lips met yours in a gentle kind of kiss. 

‘Birthday.’ She told you, before kissing you again. 

‘Baby.’ Natasha added and her hands touched your stomach again. Her eyes were bright with excitement and you felt her joy like it was your own. 

You leaned forward yourself now. Your cheek brushed hers as you moved next to her ear. ‘Boobs.’ You whispered, reaching up to squeeze them meaningfully. 

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. Her smile seemed permanent as her gaze trailed over you.

‘Bedtime.’ She promised and you tried to ignore the way heat pooled between your legs. It was going to be a long night of anticipation.

.

You watched Natasha far more than you watched the ballet dancers. Everything captivating in their performance was reflected in the focus of her attention. Her eyes were fixed on each dancer in turn as they made impossible moves seem effortless.

You found yourself coming out of a trance at the interval. Natasha turned to look at you and you watched her lips draw back into a smile. 

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She told you again and the thought of it made you smile. You tapped the top of your belly.

‘Maybe she’ll want to be one.’ You pondered playfully, reaching for the brochure resting in Natasha’s lap.

“What name should we pick?’ You considered thoughtfully as you began to suggest the names of various listed dancers.

Natasha’s hand on your thigh silenced you before you could finish half-seriously suggesting ‘Katarina.’

‘We can’t call her something Russian.’ Natasha informed you obviously. Her voice was light, but you could almost taste the sudden tension in the air.

You tilted your head questioningly.

“Why not?’ You challenged immediately. 

‘She’s not Russian.’ Natasha answered simply and you recognised the resoluteness in her eyes. You’d been together long enough to anticipate each other’s arguments. Still, you refused to give up.

‘Her mother is Russian.’ You emphasised pointedly. 

‘Not really. Not biologically.’ Natasha countered with a sudden softness. You hated that her tone had changed to appease you. 

‘I’m naming her Natasha Jr.” You decided stubbornly, rubbing wide circles over your belly in an attempt to calm yourself in the large theatre. ‘Good luck avoiding the child support payments.’

There was a pause as Natasha considered your expression. You refused to look at her, staring determinedly at the empty stage below you. If you focused on your anger for too long, you knew that you’d end up crying.

After a moment, Natasha’s head moved to rest on your shoulder. The moment settled immediately between you. You knew she was thanking you for loving her so certainly. You found her hand, still resting on your thigh and held it gently.

Those who’d left the theatre during the interval began to return slowly to their seats.

‘My mother was in the ballet.’ Natasha said quietly into the loud chatter that surrounded you. You fought the urge to turn your head. Instead, your arm moved instinctively around her shoulder, squeezing lightly in comfort. Natasha’s head tilted on your shoulder as she focused down at your bump.

‘I mean, I used to pretend she was.’ Natasha corrected herself. ‘I always wanted to go to the ballet, in case she’d recognise me in the crowd.’

You didn’t speak for a moment. Natasha had been too young, it was unbearable.

‘It’s hard.’ You began hoarsely, in the moments before the ballet resumed. ‘Things have been so unfair for you, but that’s made you exactly who you are.’

The tears began to catch up with your words.

‘And you’re going to be such a good mother.’ You choked out, feeling sadness like a tremble through your skin. 

Natasha didn’t say anything in return. She shifted in her seat slightly, moving almost imperceptibly closer to you. 

When the ballet finished and everyone around you moved to their feet, Natasha finally looked at you.

‘I love you.’ She reminded you quietly as she took your hand. You gave her a small smile.

“I know.’ You assured her, because you did.

.

You hadn’t known how to tell Natasha that you weren’t looking forward to Christmas. You’d entered your third trimester and begun to dread any days that called for increased stamina. 

More than anything, you’d found yourself desperate for the moments when it was just you and her. You were on the precipice of something new and you found yourself seeking comfort in the steadiness of what you’d already built with Natasha.

You should have known that you didn’t need to tell her. 

When you woke on Christmas Day, it wasn’t because of the alarm that you’d set the night before. Natasha was sitting up in the bed next to you, engrossed in a parenting book that you’d left wrapped under the tree the night before.

You hummed lowly in sleepy confusion, shifting in the bed as you tried to piece together the unexpected morning. You should have already been driving to see Clint’s family. Natasha looked down at you and everything about her smile was calming. Her hand brushed the top of your head and you felt assured that everything was going to plan.

‘Don’t worry.’ Natasha murmured and you couldn’t help yawning. ‘I only opened the one present.’

You nestled into Natasha’s side as you fell back asleep. Her hand stayed resting lazily on the top of your head. You loved all of Natasha’s warmth. 

You hadn’t bought any one big gift for Natasha this Christmas. You’d noticed in past years that, more than anything, she seemed to get a thrill just from the act of unwrapping. You had a feeling it was another way that she chased the American fantasy that she’d seen in movies.

Natasha’s giddiness on Christmas morning was your favourite thing. You watched her surreptitiously from the sofa as she opened each of your gifts in turn. You never took a photo of her though, the look in her eye seemed too precious to share.

Natasha was completely herself on Christmas morning. It was magical.

At last, she opened the present that you were most nervous for her to see. You held your breath as Natasha unwrapped the wide book eagerly. She stilled as she read the simple cover.

‘Becoming Mom.’

Natasha turned to the first page unsurely. She startled in surprise, just like you’d anticipated. She’d known that the photo inside had been taken, but she’d never looked at it herself. 

You’d offered your phone to the nurse during the sonogram. 

Natasha’s cheeks were tear stained in the picture and her hand was clasped loosely with your own. The other touched unthinkingly at her own waist, as if the baby on the screen might as well have been inside of her. 

Everything about her emanated a precarious kind of bliss.

Natasha closed the book suddenly and glanced back up at you.

‘The rest is for you to fill in.’ You mumbled unsurely, feeling a sudden need to avoid Natasha’s gaze. Natasha had never looked more vulnerable than in that photo. Everytime you looked at it, you loved her more fiercely than ever. 

Natasha didn’t love herself like you loved her. You weren’t sure what she was going to say. Her pause lasted an eternity.

Finally, Natasha’s choked voice cut through the silence.

‘I look like a Mom.” Natasha said quietly, and you decided that you’d never stop falling in love with her.

‘You are a Mom.’ You reminded her surely. Natasha’s hands moved to your stomach and suddenly you felt like time had lost all meaning. You felt like you’d always known her. Her touch felt more familiar than your own.

‘I love you.’ You told Natasha softly. The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched upwards immediately. When she looked up at you, her eyes glittered. 

‘I know.’ She replied simply, and you knew that she did.

.

Before lunch, Natasha led you out into the backyard to show you your present. You were having Mac and Cheese for Christmas lunch, saying farewell to a food that was now steeped in different layers of nostalgia.

The air was crisp and immediately you were grateful for Natasha’s insistence that you wear a jacket. Natasha’s cheeks turned red as she stood to your left hand side in an attempt to buffer you from the icy wind.

When you turned the corner, you saw what Natasha had made for you.

The wooden swing and slide set stood perfectly in the corner of the backyard. You gripped Natasha’s hand tight at the warm rush of being loved entirely. Suddenly, the air didn’t feel cold at all. Tears threatened as you tried to process the emotion.

The swing was too big for your baby, it would be years until your daughter could play on any part of the structure. You didn’t care. It made everything better. Natasha had planned for years in the future.

‘I had one like this in Ohio.’ Natasha told you with a serenity that you didn’t expect to hear. Her eyes trailed over the swing set as she spoke. ‘I know it’s not quite right for now, but it was my favourite place in the whole world.’

‘Why?’ You asked timidly. You’d loved Natasha for years already. You realised you were in love with a sun that was still rising. 

Natasha started walking again. Her hand slid around your waist, slipping down to squeeze your ass once familiarly, before resting at your hip.

When you reached the swing, Natasha gestured for you to sit and you did. Your fingers tangled in the metal chain as you watched her face in anticipation. You knew that she’d heard your question.

‘Whenever I was swinging, I would close my eyes.’ Natasha started, and you knew she’d spent the silence planning out her answer in her head. ‘And when my eyes were closed, I could pretend that my parents had bought me the swing set. That people loved me, really loved me, because how else could I have something so nice?’

Her hand covered yours on the cold metal chain. Natasha stood next to your shoulder. You closed your eyes, imagining the impossible feeling that she’d described to you.

You gripped the chain heavily as you pulled yourself back to your feet.

‘I need to show you something.’ You told her as you led her back into the house. You walked quickly, feeling certain of what you were about to do but entirely unsure of Natasha’s response.

You picked up the baby book that had been left on the kitchen counter and handed it back to Natasha.

‘Look inside.’ You directed her with an encouraging gesture. Natasha’s eyes dropped down to the book. She turned the page again, this time moving past the one of her at the sonogram.

The next page had been specially embossed. You’d glued in the card that was presented there. Natasha gripped the book tightly as she read the subsection title.

‘Yelena, aged 0 - 1 month’

When Natasha looked back at you, she seemed uncertain. 

‘After her Mom’s sister.’ You said, feeling uneasy about her lack of response. Your fingers played with the edge of your jacket and you found yourself avoiding her eyes.

‘We don’t have to do it.’ You hedged carefully. ‘I just want her to have a piece of you that can’t be taken away.’

Natasha didn’t speak and you glanced back up. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar love in your wife’s eyes.

“And you won’t let me call her Natasha Jr.’ You added pointedly, with a sudden urge to lighten the mood.

The book snapped shut abruptly. Natasha moved towards you so suddenly that you didn’t have time to register her proximity before her lips were on yours.

Natasha filled your senses with a perfect familiarity. You loved the heat of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against you, the touch of her hand on the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss. 

Natasha was home and you couldn’t feel lost anymore.

Sharp relief flooded you as you realised that your daughter was going to have the name that you’d been hoping for. 

The kiss broke at last and your hands moved to Natasha’s shoulders as you tried to look at her face. Natasha took a small step back, eyes still closed.

A wave of understanding rushed over you.

‘You don’t have to keep your eyes closed.’ You promised Natasha softly. ‘I’ll still love you when they’re open.’

Natasha’s lips twitched into a shy smile and slowly she opened her eyes.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha repeated as her hands trailed up your sides and gently lingered at the top of your bump.

‘We can save Natasha Jr for the next one.’ You teased again and Natasha smiled wide. 

Her hand pressed lightly on the back of your neck and she pulled you in for another kiss.

[natashasilverfox]

[natashasilverfox]

Family Matters

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

words: 4.5K

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You were looking for her. Your whole life and you never realized. 

She found you and the rest of the Avengers when you least expected it, a flit of red magic and a wake of devastation. Wanda Maximoff made her impression like the moon makes waves. 

Just like waves, there was an ebb and flow. When her brother died, you watched something die inside Wanda too. Her eyes were dulled as she arrived at her new American home. 

Soon enough she settled in with the Avengers, but it wasn’t thanks to you. Even then, you were too focused on trying to keep your own work-life balance. 

“The normal Avenger.” Tony had labeled you with his dry affection. You liked the nickname, it was what you were aiming for. You bought a house less than a thirty minute drive from the Compound and you did your best to go home by 6 every evening. You went on blind dates, made friends who thought you were an electrical engineer. You ordered too much Chinese food and brought the reheats in for lunch. 

Natasha loved your slice of normality more than the others. She wove herself into your life, becoming the famous elusive friend you were always asked about. She was also the friend who visited at midnight with a DVD in hand when she couldn’t sleep. 

The others didn’t understand your choices, but you could tell they felt weighted by their own. They talked of responsibility and guilt like the world was on their shoulders. The Avengers were their life but for you it was only your job.

Your interactions with Wanda were limited by these circumstances. She participated in training exercises but rarely in missions. You had no exceptional powers, only hard work and the aid of some high tech weaponry. You were wary of Wanda, whose powers seemed at the whim of her focus. 

You watched some of the others grow closer with her. Steve and Clint watched her with a paternal air. Natasha hovered like an older sister. Vision observed with obvious longing. You were not part of Wanda’s world, and she was not part of yours.

.

You didn’t expect her to come into your orbit.

It was the end of one of your longer work days. Your usual heavy bag was slung across your shoulders. You were carrying a cardboard box, filled with background reading for your next mission. You knew there were heavy textbooks inside, explaining the science behind some new technology. You tried not to grimace at the weight of it all, your muscles aching from a training session that morning. 

‘Do you need any help?’ Wanda asked from behind you. You startled obviously, you’d thought you were alone. You turned to her, still a little unsure of the woman who had power beyond your comprehension. Wanda’s face was impassive.

‘If you don’t mind.’ You said nervously. 

Wanda’s fingers twitched loosely. The cardboard box floated aloft. She didn’t speak to you as you walked together out to your car. For the first time since you’d met her, you watched her without prejudice. Her face was young, her expression was determined. Her hair flickered like hot embers under the parking lot lights. 

She waited as you unlocked your car, before floating the box into the backseat.

Wanda was already walking away when you called out ‘Thank you.’ She looked back, and for a split second you caught the surprise on her face. Then, she gave you a small smile

She raised her hand and you did the same, giving her a small wave. Wanda’s head tilted with amusement. Like before, instead of waving, she flicked her wrist and the car door opened next to you.

You laughed and Wanda smiled harder. 

.

You still weren’t close to her. There wasn’t the same easy rhythm between you, not like there was with the others. Deep inside, if you’d been honest with yourself, you knew why. 

Her smile lingered in your mind for a long time.

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You watched Wanda and Vision grow closer during training. Their developing interest in each other was clear. Tony assured you that it was more disgustingly obvious after work hours. 

One Tuesday night, Natasha invited you out to a bar with the others. You did a headcount as you showed up, surprised to see that two were missing. 

Clint caught your quick math and gave you a knowing look as he handed you a beer. 

‘We had to get away from the lovebirds.’ He whispered loudly in your ear.

A feeling flared inside your chest. It wasn’t quite jealousy, but it could have been.

.

Despite her progress with the team and training, Wanda still hadn’t gone on a real mission. It seemed to be mutually agreed upon that she wasn’t ready. You wondered internally, when that might change. There seemed to be no rush. 

You took a vacation in the middle of June. A week lying on a beach without any disturbances or alien calamities. The team had agreed to only call you if it was an emergency. You couldn’t believe your luck that they hadn’t had to. 

You drove to work on Monday morning with a spring in your step. That was until Friday told you that there’d still been plenty of action whilst you were away. She told you that all of the team members had been called away on various missions. All except one. 

You asked if Wanda was ready for training, but Friday told you that she was still in her room. She told you that Wanda hadn’t left her room since her temperature spike the night before.

You rarely had a reason to visit the Avenger’s personal quarters at the compound but you didn’t hesitate today. You knocked on Wanda’s door worriedly. All you heard in response was a muffled noise. 

You entered the room cautiously and your stomach swooped with immediate sympathy. Wanda’s face was pale, her sheets were tangled messily, her pajama top was sticking to her skin. 

‘Hey.’ You murmured, not sure what to say.

Wanda looked at you miserably, her breathing labored from the obvious head cold. 

You felt yourself kick into action, trying to focus on the tasks at hand to settle the concern you felt inside for her. You picked up Wanda’s empty water glass and left to refill it. You returned, armed with more boxes of kleenex. 

You didn’t speak. The silence between you felt familiar.

You helped Wanda sit up, moving the pillows behind her back. Her skin was too warm when it brushed yours. You did your best to straighten her sheets. Wanda kept coughing, covering her mouth embarrassedly. 

You waited as she reached for her water, taking a long drink from the glass. She looked at you, and hesitated. You knew she was going to say thank you. You didn’t want to hear it, you didn’t know why.

Instead, you reached instinctively forward, gently brushing the hair from Wanda’s face.

‘Let me make you some soup.’ 

.

You didn’t tell anyone about that day. Sitting with Wanda in her room. You’d only watched TV together, kept her hydrated, and tried your best to be good company. Still, it felt special to you.

.

Sitting on the quinjet, ready for her first real mission, Wanda gave you a small smile. It hid the nerves that the others weren’t supposed to see. You wondered if she ever thought about the day in her room too.

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When the team started to fall apart, you were the last to realize. You’d been sitting in your house, sifting through the lengthy Sokovia accords and taking notes on the pros and cons. 

Your friends and colleagues had taken a less academic response to their disagreement.

You visited the Compound unsurely, to find only Wanda and Vision still in residence. You found Wanda in her room again. You hovered nervously by the open door, Wanda was lying on her bed, watching the news coverage with her head propped on her hand.

She smiled when she saw you, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

‘You need a prison break?’ You asked lightly, heart full of worry. 

Wanda’s eyes turned to the television, where reporters were following up on the destruction in Lagos.

She smiled drily and lifted her hand. A red mist covered her fingertips.

‘Maybe I’m safer inside.’ She answered. 

Her voice was teasing and you let it go.

When everything went down. When Wanda found herself in a real prison. Her words kept you up at night.

When you heard about the fight in Germany, you knew that the job you’d loved was over. You visited Colonel Rhodes in the hospital. You met with Tony, a man almost unrecognizable. 

You spent sleepless thinking about the others locked in a prison ship. 

You heard about the break out. It relieved you. The others had been more than colleagues, they had been family to each other. You were glad they weren’t alone. Tony told you Vision had gone officially AWOL and you hoped Wanda had found some happiness.

You quit the Avengers formally then, not that it mattered. You got on with your life. You took a new job writing children’s books about superheroes. Your girlfriend moved in with you, then back out a few months later when it stopped working. You made sure to love it all, even the failures. 

You had always been chasing a normal life and now you’d arrived at one.

.

Nobody called you when half the universe disappeared. It would have taken time to track you down, and there hadn’t been any time. 

When you heard the news, it was already too late. You went straight to the Compound, an emergency response kicking in. You could already feel the ghosts in the corridors. 

You ended up living there for the next five years.

You rejoined the Avengers, not because you wanted back on the team, but because it wasn’t a team anymore. It was just the survivors trying to hold things together. 

Tony tapped out quickly, starved in space and undeniably traumatized. Pepper sent you updates sometimes as she carved out a life of normality for the pair of them. 

Natasha was not well either. Loss haunted the edges of her eyes. You watched her cope in the day, then pace the corridors at night. Clint’s family had been snapped and then he had disappeared too. 

She told you, when you hauled her into the living room with an enforced movie night, that she was grieving her younger sister too. You shared your pain and she shared hers. For five years you were each other’s crutch.

.

Natasha was strong enough to help bring half the universe back. She was also strong enough to sacrifice herself in the process. 

Grieving her was when you finally felt like you’d been through too much. The job you’d fought so hard to keep a healthy balance with had destroyed your life completely.

.

You met Wanda again at Tony’s funeral. Her eyes were dulled and you knew yours were too. You didn’t speak to her because even good things still felt painful. 

For Natasha’s sake, you tried to forgive Clint. You knew that all the pain you felt was not what she wanted you to have. You were sitting out by the lake when Wanda found you. Most people had already gone home by then. You didn’t want to go back inside. You weren’t ready for life to start again. 

Wanda’s hand touched your shoulder. It rested for a moment and you closed your eyes. 

‘I’m sorry.’ You said at last, turning to face her. You’d heard what had happened to Vision. You didn’t know how she was still standing.

Wanda tried to smile but it wouldn’t meet her eyes.

‘Can I drive you anywhere?’ She asked instead.

You shook your head. ‘Thank you. I brought my own car.’

She walked with you to the drive, silent company that you needed more than words.

Before you got into your car, you hesitated.

‘Do you have somewhere to go?’ You checked. Wanda nodded wordlessly. The flash of pain in her eyes unsettled you. It should have made you stay.

You drove back to your old life instead.

.

You went back to the suburban world that you’d abandoned five years before. Your neighbors thought that you’d been snapped and you didn’t correct them. You tried to help the world in a more local way. You donated to food drives for the hungry returned population. You volunteered with every neighborhood effort, making new friends and reconnecting with old ones. 

You ignored most of Clint’s phone calls, hating that guilt made him call.

Once when you felt brave, you drove up to visit Pepper. She kept her head high even when dinner ended and you shared drinks on the sofa. She wasn’t closed off, but she wasn’t broken down either. You realized that she was built to keep moving, to survive as a family of two. 

You left the visit with renewed grief and renewed hope too. Healing imperfectly was okay. It no longer felt impossible.

.

You heard about Westview and blamed yourself. You called Clint back for the first time. You’d been the last one to see Wanda and you should have known. You asked him if he thought Wanda had always been hiding the extent of her powers.

Clint was silent for a moment. He was careful when he spoke to you, your friendship would now always be rooted in guilt.

‘When I wanted my family back. I would have tried anything.’ He admitted at last. ‘I did everything I could. But Wanda can do a lot more.’

.

You didn’t follow Wanda’s story closely after that. You heard that she was living on her own, taking some time to grieve. She seemed impossibly far away. 

As time passed, you thought vaguely that she might have been in contact with Clint. There weren’t many Avengers left that she was close to.

You heard the strange stories in the news but you didn’t put it all together. There were a lot of strange stories and it was hard to see patterns. You heard about the earthquakes and avalanches in Eastern Europe when Mount Wundagore collapsed. You even donated to the charities trying to recover endangered species in the area. Wanda didn’t cross your mind.

It felt like slow motion when you answered your phone. Clint told you hoarsely that Wanda had died in one of the avalanches. You forgot how to breathe.

Grief had been drowning you too long. Wanda’s life had been unfair and her suffering had been too much. You were so tired of people dying too young.

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A week later, your evening was interrupted by a knock at your door. 

When you opened it, your legs nearly buckled under you. 

Wanda’s face was drawn with exhaustion and her eyes were dulled.

All rational thought escaped you as overwhelming relief took over. You wrapped her in a tight hug. You felt her wince and drew back immediately in concern. You brushed the hair from her face gently.  

She was wearing a new outfit, something stronger and more intimidating than what you’d seen her in before. The material was ripped in places, exposing dark, painful looking bruising. 

You could tell that she was too tired to care. Wanda seemed dead on her feet. You weren’t sure how she’d traveled all the way from Eastern Europe and you didn’t ask. Instead, you offered her your spare room and left her to get the sleep she clearly needed.

You barely slept yourself that night, pacing your room as you mulled over Wanda’s unexpected arrival. You didn’t call anyone, not wanting to make her location known if she was trying to keep a low profile. You wondered if she’d faked her own death for safety reasons. You wondered if that was why she’d ended up here of all places.

The next morning, before the sun had risen, you made a brief run to the store. You picked out some comfortable clothes and supplies for your new guest. 

You left a pile of clothes and wash items outside her door. 

Then you milled listlessly around your own house, waiting for Wanda. Just before midday, she appeared at the top of your stairs. You cracked an automatic smile of relief when you saw her.

She looked different without her outfit from the day before. Her hair was tied in a messy bun. She was nearly drowned in the oversized hoodie you’d provided. It contrasted oddly with the tired shadows on her face. 

Wanda didn’t smile as she walked toward you. She seemed even more tired than the evening before.

You made her breakfast, trying to focus on the task instead of your unbridled worry. You fell into the old habits from your time with the Avengers. You started to give her a quick rundown of recent events that had made American news. 

‘I don’t care.’ Wanda said quietly and you held your tongue in surprise. Her voice was different, more gravelly and more dangerous than you remembered. You turned to look at her properly, risking the pancakes that you were cooking. Her eyes were closed in exhaustion and her jaw was tight. 

You brought the pancakes to the table and continued in the direction that had defined most of your life. Normality.

‘Do you want to stay for a few days?’ You asked simply, taking a bite.

Wanda’s eyes opened. She watched you for a moment. The uncertainty in her eyes made her look like the younger person you’d once known. You could tell that she knew you’d heard about Westview. 

‘Thank you.’ She said at last. 

You smiled, hating the tinge of shame in her expression.

 ‘You look like you need to rest.’ You told her honestly. 

Wanda closed her eyes again. The silence between you felt familiar. ‘I’m having trouble sleeping’ She told you softly.

‘You need TV.’ You advised, like a terrible medical professional. ‘You need to veg out and eat crap.’

Despite herself, Wanda’s eyebrow raised. You grinned, feeling like after all this time, you were really getting to know her.

‘Go on.’ You nodded to the living room. ‘I’ll clear this up.’

She did as you asked. You watched her walk away and a brand new feeling hurt your chest. You were glad she was here.

Wanda’s day passed exactly as you prescribed. She watched reality TV, curled up on your sofa. Her red hair escaped its hair-tie and lay messily across a cushion. You canceled on a friend who you’d planned to meet for dinner. 

You brought through candy and chips and slunk into the space next to Wanda on the sofa. She smiled at you and you smiled back. 

When dinner time arrived, you suggested pizza and pretended to grimace at Wanda’s topping choices. 

You picked out a movie, a light Rom-Com that had definitely been watched a thousand times. Wanda shifted to a more upright sitting position as you ate together in silence.

You were sure that just keeping her eyes glued to the screen was helping Wanda stay steady. She seemed anchored by it. The large hoodie had slipped over her shoulder, exposing a crisscross of dark bruising and barely healed scars. You offered her painkillers after you ate and Wanda accepted gratefully. 

Throughout the movie, Wanda began to shift, adjusting to a more comfortable position.

Before the movie ended, Wanda’s body was pressed against your side. The gesture ached with Natasha’s memory and you swallowed the bittersweet feeling.

You reached out, wrapping your arm around Wanda’s shoulder and holding her close. 

You thought Wanda might have fallen asleep. But as the credits rolled, she mumbled something about a sequel. You put it on obediently and tried to focus on the movie in front of you.

Just as it regained your attention, Wanda moved again. Her weight pressed more heavily into your side. You held your breath in surprise when you felt her head rest on your shoulder. You heard her slow and steady breaths. Her mussed hair brushed your skin.

You stayed as still as you could for the next two hours, trying your best to watch the movie. Your blinks became heavier.

When the credits rolled again, you stopped kidding yourself. You picked another movie at random and let your head sink back against the sofa. You fell asleep in front of the bright screen with Wanda’s steady breaths beside you.

.

Wanda needed more sleep than you’d expected. When you woke, she had barely moved. Bright sunlight told you the whole night had passed. 

Your arm was numb and you slid it carefully out from behind her. You weren’t smooth enough. 

Wanda jerked awake suddenly. There was fear in her eyes but her fingers glowed red.

‘It’s okay.’ You croaked out, throat dry from sleep. ‘It’s just me.’ 

Wanda only looked more worried when she noticed you there. The red light died abruptly. 

‘It’s okay.’ You emphasized again, understanding her fright. 

Her worry dimmed to a low anxiety, but it didn’t calm further. She took a shaky breath. You felt a pit in your stomach at what she might have dreamed about.

You left, first to the bedroom to get changed and then to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash cold water on your face.

When you returned, Wanda had moved into the kitchen. She’d changed into new clothes that you‘d bought yesterday. This time a large, comfy gray sweater that suited her entirely. Her long hair fell down behind her shoulders. She was standing by your stove, a bowl of pancake batter on the counter beside her.

You gave her a grateful smile as you realized she was planning to cook for you. You turned on the stereo and sat in one of the kitchen chairs. Stray sunbeams warmed the room nicely. Music floated lightly in the air.

After a few minutes, Wanda put a plate down in front of you. 

She’d used pieces of fruit to make a face on the pancake, like you were a kid. 

You laughed loudly in surprise. ‘Thank you.’ 

Wanda’s reaction was strange. She looked flummoxed as she stared down at the pancake face, as if she’d only just seen it herself. 

She screwed up her own face like she’d done something wrong.

‘I didn’t mean to do that.’ She said quietly. A weird sense of foreboding came over you.

‘It’s okay.’ You tried to assure her. ‘It’s cute.’

Wanda’s eyes brimmed with silent pain as she sat down and began to eat her own pancakes. You did the same, alarmed at the sudden tension in the air. 

When it didn’t dissipate, you decided to ask. Personal questions felt like a boundary you hadn’t crossed before.

‘Did you have pancakes like that with your brother?’ You tried gently. 

Wanda hesitated and shook her head.

You looked down at the childish design. You couldn’t imagine it being a memory shared with Vision.

‘Who with?’ You asked simply at last. 

.

Wanda told you the last pieces of Westview. She told you about the children that she’d created. Her story was long and her voice was stilted. She told you about trying to find them again after they’d been lost. She told you about multiverses. She sounded sick as she told you about the young girl she’d tried to kill.

Her story was awful. It unsettled you to hear what she was capable of, what she’d always been capable of. 

You reached across the table and held her hand. 

Wanda gave you a wry smile, tears slipping down her cheeks.

‘You’re not running away screaming.’ She noted, trying to keep her voice light as her eyes filled with misery.

.

You sighed, as your mind flashed with memories of Natasha and Tony. 

‘We don’t run away from our family.’ You told her. ‘Because family isn’t easy to hold onto.’

Wanda started to cry then as if something was shattering inside her.

You moved to hug her. You wrapped her in your arms and felt Wanda hug you back tightly. 

.

It was a month until Wanda could breathe again without it hurting. There was never any talk of her leaving. The idea seemed absurd.

One morning, you greeted her with your usual smile in the kitchen. Yawning with a familiarity that had flourished in the last few weeks, Wanda gave you an unprompted hug. Your heart thumped erratically in your chest. 

‘Thank you.’ She mumbled into your shoulder before giving you a small smile.

You didn’t speak, you couldn’t think of any words that would say it right. A smile burned your cheeks. You watched Wanda smile harder.

.

The nightmares lasted half a year. You slept often in the same bed with an unspoken straightforwardness that had been started with that first night on the sofa.

Sometimes, you’d wake in the night when Wanda shifted in distress. You’d try to straighten the sheets, to brush her hair from her face. When it was really bad, you’d wake her gently and offer her some water. 

You’d kiss her forehead and feel love like an unstoppable force inside your chest.

. 

When Wanda asked you out to dinner, you knew that she was ready to make new memories. 

She left before dessert, when the couple at a table across from you got engaged. 

You found her in the middle of the street, shaking like a leaf. You wrapped her in a hug and she hugged you back. You suggested a late night trip to the movie theater, knowing that sleep might be hard to come by. 

You fell asleep on her shoulder in the opening ten minutes.

When you woke up, Wanda kissed you. Her lips were soft and her eyes were bright.

.

The happy moments felt like gold dust. Like magic wrought from pain. Hope from grief. It was better to heal imperfectly than not at all.

Wanda danced with you in the kitchen every morning. Her smile was shy like she was young again. It was warm like she’d loved you for years. 

Every night, you kissed Wanda deeply, your hands running through her hair. Her gentle hands brushed your skin.

.

One morning, Wanda asked about your plans for the day. 

You told her about the local charity you were helping to fundraise for. About the orphans that the blip had left behind. 

You watched Wanda’s expression change when you told her about the children who were looking for a family.

‘We’re a family.’ She said simply. 

You shared a hopeful smile as happiness ran through your veins. 

.

When you were an Avenger, you’d always insisted that your job was just a job. That life was what happened outside of it. 

You could see now that it had given you the happiest times of your life. 

It had given you the people that you loved the most.

You used to be an Avenger, but you were never normal. You were the luckiest person alive.

[natashasilverfox]

It Only Takes A Moment

Natasha Romanoff x Shy!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

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“I feel like shit.” 

Natasha commented out of nowhere from the sofa across the room. 

You startled at her unexpected statement. Your cereal-filled spoon froze halfway to your mouth. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Natasha since you joined the Avengers six months ago.

Then, you noticed Clint shuffling bleary eyed towards the fridge. Your shoulders relaxed.

He yawned, rubbing his face as he regarded Natasha assessingly. You were perched at the breakfast bar, unobtrusive as usual.

Natasha was on the opposite side of the large space, feet curled beneath her on the tiny sofa. 

A purpling bruise on her cheek and a split lip were the painful remnants of her last mission. She looked pale too, tired in an almost chronic way, despite the empty coffee mug next to her.

“You look like shit, too.” Clint decided at last with a lazy grin. 

Natasha smirked back, obviously satisfied with his teasing response. You remembered your cereal and took another spoonful. Curiosity always burned inside you when you watched the two of them interact. You’d never had a mission with either of them before. You didn’t understand the lightness of their back and forth.

As you chewed on your breakfast, eyes roaming over Natasha’s injured face, you felt concern build inside you.

Clint gave you a friendly nod as he stacked a pile of snacks in his arms and left the room.

A steady silence returned in his wake. You were unbearably shy around Natasha as a rule. Something about her calm confidence and unreadable expression made you feel nervous. 

You knew the other Avengers just thought you were quiet.

Natasha was staring absentmindedly out the large window, her coffee long since finished. You followed her gaze outside, glancing up at the pale yellow sun that was still new in the sky.

You watched Natasha’s mouth twist into a subtle grimace of pain as she lifted her hands to try and tie her hair back in a ponytail.

You felt certain as you watched her that her injuries were more than just a bruised cheek. The worry bubbled inside you.

Eventually, Natasha gave up, letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders in a loose curtain. She looked entirely unlike herself. Until today you’d never seen her hair out of a braid.

You slipped off your bar stool and cringed at the way it squeaked on the tiled floor. You hesitated as you put your dishes in the dishwasher. Every day usually followed the same pattern. You knew Natasha was paying no attention to you, expecting you to leave the kitchen and go back to your room. 

When you turned instead to the coffee machine, you felt Natasha’s eyes flicker back to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

.

When you walked over to her, fresh cup of coffee in hand, it was the first time you’d ever surprised Natasha. 

You handed her the mug with a wordless smile.

Natasha’s answering smile was soft but her eyes held a subtle confusion. 

‘Thank you.’ She breathed, blowing automatically on the hot liquid. 

Nerves fluttered inside you. You forced yourself to speak.

‘Are you really okay?’ You asked, as your worry escaped you.

For a brief moment, shock rendered Natasha silent. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at you.

You didn’t know where your bravery was coming from. A burning embarrassment began to build inside you.

Natasha’s expression softened suddenly. She hesitated and then started to speak. 

‘I’m okay. Just had one of those missions.’

You nodded in response, your eyes lingering automatically on the painful looking bruise. From the things you’d overheard about the mission, you knew she was underplaying it. You bit your lip. Natasha watched you silently. 

‘Can I help with your hair?’ You asked at last, in another worried burst that you couldn’t seem to control.

A slight flush caught Natasha’s cheeks. Something like shame flickered in her eyes, gone a moment later.

Your breath caught. She was more human than you’d realised. More beautiful too. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha replied quietly. ‘I think I’ve hurt my shoulder.’

You nodded again, moving to stand behind the tiny sofa. You lifted her hair tie from the side table and slid it over your wrist. 

You felt Natasha’s body freeze at your first hesitant touch. 

You knew she was expecting you to tie her hair back in a quick ponytail. Instead, hardly daring to breathe, you tried something different. 

Natasha’s breath hitched when she realised what you were attempting. 

You started carefully, twisting pieces of hair together.

‘You don’t have to braid it.’ Natasha whispered after a moment, her quiet voice burning with a sudden rawness. You found yourself wishing that you could see her face. 

‘You like it braided.’ You answered simply. 

Natasha held herself impossibly still as you tried your best to replicate her usual braid. You noticed the light goosebumps raised on her skin.

Eventually, you tied the last piece, your fingers lightly brushing against her neck. 

You moved back around the sofa to face her. 

You weren’t sure if it was the flushed cheeks or your imperfect braid that made Natasha look so young. Her gaze searched yours, her eyes vulnerable.

‘It’s not very good.’ You apologised quietly. 

Natasha shook her head.

‘It’s good.’ She countered simply. There was a raw, raised scar on the back of her hand. You wondered how you’d never noticed before.

Natasha nodded to the space next to her on the sofa. She smiled suddenly, a flash of her usual cool confidence.

‘Do you want to watch some TV?’

You nodded, feeling a warm rush at the familiarity of her tone. A barrier had fallen between you. 

As you settled on the sofa, Natasha switched on the television. The daytime show was familiar, often left playing in the background of the room. 

Natasha touched the end of her braid as she watched. Her gaze stayed on the show, a picture of relaxed attention. 

You couldn’t say the same for yourself. Her light joke to Clint played in your head. The bruises, the scars, the pained movements. 

 After a few minutes, another question fell from your lips. 

‘Was it scary?’ You asked suddenly.

You watched Natasha freeze momentarily, a difficult emotion filling her eyes. You watched her blink the feeling away. She didn’t reply. 

You turned your gaze back to the television, stomach twisting for what she didn’t share. 

Eventually, you settled back against the sofa cushions, finally beginning to relax in her presence. Natasha sipped the last of her coffee.

Your usual shared silence returned.

You hoped you hadn’t ruined everything with one question.

The show ended and a commercial break began.

‘It was.’ Natasha murmured unexpectedly. Your head turned towards her.

‘It was scary.’ She whispered into the air.

This was not Natasha. Not the person everyone else saw. This was someone else. You saw her entirely for the first time.

Unspoken sympathy filled your answering gaze. 

You took her scarred hand in yours and rested it on your lap.

[natashasilverfox]

Chin Up

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

.

When you first met Natasha, she had blue hair. 

She was awkward, limbs growing faster than she knew what to do with. Still skinny enough to be drowned by a band t-shirt that needed the sleeves rolled up. 

You were the new kid at school. You were even more awkward.

On your first day, you saw her sitting alone at lunch. The cafeteria was overwhelmingly busy, seats at every other table were being fought over. You tried to keep your chin up as you walked the length of Natasha’s otherwise empty table, sliding onto the stool across from her. 

Natasha’s head snapped up from her book at your arrival. It was a beaten up paperback, spine folded back on itself. 

‘Any good?’ You asked cheerfully, if a little desperately. Just one friend. That’s all you needed. The other children made wide berths around you in the corridors, as if you were more alien than stranger. 

Natasha seemed frustrated by your inquiry. She closed her book quickly and stuffed it back in her bag.  She stared down at her half eaten peanut butter sandwich, purposefully avoiding your nervous smile.

You didn’t know what you’d done wrong.

‘Sorry.’ You muttered, heat flaming your cheeks.

You started to bounce your leg anxiously under the table. You picked at your own sandwich. You weren’t hungry, but you didn’t want to look even weirder than you already were. 

A lump caught in your throat as you looked across the rest of the cafeteria. You felt jealous of the easy banter between the other large groups of students. You wished that it could be you. That you could fit in, just this once. 

‘Sometimes they steal my books.’ Natasha said unexpectedly. Her voice was carefully even. She tightened her loose grip on the strap of her backpack.

You glanced back out at the sea of students. Their playful banter had a mocking edge to it that you hadn’t noticed before.

‘That sucks.’ You answered fiercely. 

Natasha rolled her eyes casually, taking another bite of her sandwich and retrieving her book again. You took a deep breath, settled by her returned nonchalance.

You felt hungrier and refocused on your lunch. As you ate, you zeroed in on a group of girls across the room. They were laughing as they ripped pages slowly from another beaten up book. Your mouth opened in shock.

‘They’re the worst.’ Natasha spoke up again, casually following your gaze. Her tone was dismissive. 

You didn’t speak. You stared at your fingers as they twisted together atop the laminate table. Anxiety rolled through you.

So far, none of these kids seemed to like you. You weren't even sure that you wanted them to. The next few years of education stretched before you ominously. 

Suddenly, you felt a plastic wrapper graze your forearm. You startled and looked up. Natasha pushed the chocolate bar across the table with her fingertips.

‘My mom always packs two.’ She informed you with a shy shrug. 

One of the kids at this school liked you.

You smiled again.

‘I like your blue hair.’ You blurted as you took the chocolate bar. 

Natasha’s cheeks tinged pink. You caught the way she lifted her chin up when she next met your eyes. 

‘Thanks.’ She mumbled, awkwardly offering out her hand to shake. ‘My name’s Natasha.’ 

.

Natasha was your first friend. For a long time, she was your only one. 

Then, one day she was no one at all. 

.

You didn’t see her again until 2012. 

.

When your best friend had first gone missing, the stories that swarmed the neighbourhood were unbelievable.

There had been no warning from the family. No phone number, no forwarding address. 

The first rumour was that loan sharks were after Natasha’s Dad. 

Then, men in suits came knocking on the neighbours’ doors. The rumours shifted to something more criminal; money laundering, fraud. 

Bullies at school laughed at you. The joke was that you’d somehow scared off the second weirdest kid in school. You grieved Natasha’s disappearance alone.

You sat through classes silently, dreaming up a hundred reasons to justify why Natasha might leave you behind in a place like this.

Nothing could have been more far-fetched than the truth. 

A super spy.

You were watching the live news broadcast when New York was attacked. Everyone was. 

You stared at raw footage of an alien race invading the planet. Nothing could be more shocking, you thought. And then, you saw the Avengers.

Natasha did not look the same. 

No more awkward and gangly; no more blue hair. 

It was the familiar tilt of her chin as she stared up at a passing spacecraft that jolted your memory.

You knelt in front of your TV, trying to get closer to the impossible picture. 

Two days later, the city officials held a large press conference. It was hosted on the first floor of the new Stark Tower. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were in attendance.

Tony Stark called her ‘Red’ off-handedly.

That’s what gave you the idea.

There was nothing else you could think to do anyway. Natasha Romanoff had the shortest Wikipedia entry you’d ever seen.

You addressed a letter to Stark Tower in the hopes it might reach her. It was beyond a long shot, but you had to try. 

It was hard to explain the national feeling of adrenaline that lingered after the attack. It almost seemed like sure fate that Natasha would reply. Aliens were real and Earth had won. Impossible odds were being beaten all the time.

It was not that easy. It took six months for you to hear a response. 

Your phone buzzed in the middle of the night with a text. 

Despite the late hour, the message was carefully constructed. 

You used to be able to read Natasha’s nervousness a mile off. When her Dad called her home early. When the teacher called her out for exceptional work in class. When you asked her favourite Christmas present and she stumbled over the answer.

‘Thanks for reaching out.’ She began, formal with her friendliness. ‘I do remember you and I appreciated your letter. We should catch up soon.’

The text sounded distant, but you felt certain that she wouldn't have sent it if she hadn’t wanted a response.

You tried to picture the woman that you’d seen on television, but all you could think of was the blue haired girl.

Despite everything that had happened. Natasha was still Natasha.

You called her. 

She answered after two rings. Vindication rippled over your skin, you were right.

‘Hi.’ Natasha breathed out.

Her voice rasped unfamiliarly.

Your heart twisted as you heard all the years that had passed. 

Natasha Romanoff was an adult now. 

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ You told her before you had time to think.

You heard her muted surprise in shallow breaths.

‘I missed you too.’ She murmured after a moment. There was a pang of emotion in her voice, you could feel it down the phone. ‘You were my best friend.’

Your stomach swooped strangely at her words.

You tried to play off the feeling. You sighed with mock dramatics.

‘Now you prefer the Hulk right?’ You teased.

‘Oh yes.’ Natasha hummed, picking up the easy pattern of your teenage conversations. ‘He’s much better company.’

You talked for twenty minutes, mixing nostalgia with light inquiries about her new life. 

Before the call ended, Natasha invited you to visit her in New York.

It was an easy answer to give. 

When you hung up the phone, you held it close to your chest for a moment. The room was beginning to grow light with the dawn outside.

.

Natasha was not an awkward teenager anymore. 

She waited for you in the entrance of Stark Tower, dressed casually in leggings and a hoodie. 

It was unnerving. She was almost familiar to you. 

Your eyes met as you entered through the glass front doors. 

Natasha hugged herself, playing with the grey fabric of her hoodie.

You remembered the nervous gesture. You wondered if she still had the habit, or if she’d just remembered it because of you.

You sensed her uncertainty as you got closer. You opened your arms for a hug and she looked grateful for the direction. 

She fit perfectly. 

Your eyes filled with tears as her arms tightened around you. 

When Natasha pulled away, she gave you a confused look. 

You shook your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

‘I always hoped you were okay.’ You mumbled, wiping your cheeks, embarrassed at how quickly you’d gotten emotional. ‘Fuck, I’m so glad you’re alive.’

Natasha’s eyes shuttered with a sudden blankness. She tried to shake it away too. 

‘No-one’s ever said that to me before.’ She murmured under her breath, before leading you back to the Tower’s elevators.

You pondered her words during the silent elevator ride. Natasha’s life was clearly full of danger. She was on the front line of extra-terrestrial defence. She’d fought monsters on live tv. 

You thought of the fake American Mom and Dad you’d been introduced to. You thought of the little sister, who had seemed so devoted to Natasha. 

Now no one was waiting for Natasha to come home safe. 

In the elevator you took her hand, squeezing it gently.

Natasha looked at you, eyes crinkling with simple happiness. She squeezed back. 

‘Red hair suits you.’ You commented. ‘But, I preferred the blue.’

Natasha rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. The elevator doors opened. 

.

The space was obviously built to be a common area, but it was empty now. 

Natasha led you right through the middle of it. 

You entered her room, following behind her. You stopped in the doorway, trying to take it in.

As a teenager, Natasha’s bedroom had been wall-to-wall with bright posters. In contrast, this room seemed almost clinically blank. A single piece of understated art hung on the far away wall. The bedspread was pristine white, like a hotel.

Your eyes clung to the only piece of personality in the room. A stack of CDs and a CD player lay on the hardwood floor, next to the largest window you’d ever seen. You recognised the top CD’s cover art immediately; Nevermind by Nirvana.

You looked at Natasha in surprise. It had been her favourite album when you’d last known her. 

Natasha met your gaze readily. There was a glint of defiance in the tilt of her chin. 

‘Oh, so you still have good taste.’ You grinned.

There was a pause. Natasha’s lip twitched with the start of a smile. Then, she hugged herself again.

‘I loved those songs.’ Natasha whispered, and her sudden fragility startled you. ‘It was the best time.’

Her eyes were careful, but you felt the emotion hiding in them. You moved forward again, hugging her instinctively.

‘The best time.’ You agreed quietly.

You spent the afternoon listening to the album, then another one, then another. The CDs were well played. Sometimes the disc would catch for a moment, but the song would always persevere.

You didn’t feel the need to talk. 

Natasha sprawled out on her bed, head cupped in her hands as she faced you. You sat on the windowsill next to the music, leaning your head against the side and watching her in return. 

You exchanged smiles back and forth. You exchanged memories of the songs with just a twitch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip. 

Natasha’s finger tapped at the side of her jaw absentmindedly. 

Eventually, time moved on. When one album finished playing, Natasha swung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched casually. You didn’t believe the nonchalance for a second, sure that such a smooth gesture must take forethought. 

‘Dinner?’ She asked and you nodded with a smile, ready and terrified to meet her roommates.

Captain America offered you a bowl of pasta.

The weirdest day of your life only got weirder. The other Avengers were sitting around watching a large flat-screen television. Natasha picked her feet up as she stepped around their legs, heading to the furthest away sofa. 

You followed behind her, muttering quiet hellos in answer to the openly curious stares of Iron Man, Hawkeye and Dr. Banner.

Natasha tucked her legs underneath her as she sat in the far corner of the sofa. 

Automatically, you followed a habit that had been established years before. You threw yourself casually into the space directly next to her. Your fork snuck over to her bowl of pasta, stealing a piece. You tasted it and grinned.

‘Yours is always better.’ You complained, watching as Natasha stuck her tongue out in response. 

You only remembered your audience when Tony Stark cleared his throat.

‘Did she tell you that she’s a ruthless assassin.’ He stated loudly, receiving a not-so-subtle elbow jab from Captain America.

‘What?’ Tony retorted, rubbing his side pointedly. ‘She’s never brought a date home before. And there must be a reason she’s called the Black Widow.’ 

You watched Natasha from the corner of your eye; the sudden embarrassment spilling over her face. The shame that lingered for a split second.

‘Not all names are literal.’ You answered bitingly, feeling an old defensive urge flaring. There had been enough bullies going after Natasha when you were at school. ‘We don’t call you Micro-Penis Man, do we?’

Hawkeye snorted with laughter, Dr. Banner’s lip twitched. 

‘Clever.’ Tony drawled sarcastically. 

You ignored him, turning back to Natasha instead. Her expression was unreadable as she searched your face. You didn’t know what she was looking for. 

You sat in silence for the rest of your meal, watching the generic movie on screen instead of engaging in more awkward conversation. More than once though, you felt the curious stares of the others lingering on you.

.

As soon as you’d both finished eating, Natasha led you back to her room. This time, the air inside felt different. You caught the loosening of her shoulders, her subtle relief at returning to her own space. She threw her hoodie on top of her bedspread.

You glanced back around the room, realising abruptly that the minimal design wasn’t meant to feel clinical. It was more reminiscent of a spa. 

You caught Natasha’s attention and gave her an encouraging smile.

‘Nice digs.’ You commented, raising your eyebrows.

Natasha laughed once, voice so much richer than you remembered. She ran her fingers through her hair. Your eyes caught on the muscles flexing in her bare arm. 

‘It’ll do.’ She shrugged teasingly. ‘It’s nicer than Ohio.’

You sniffed dramatically. ‘Less alien attacks in Ohio.’

‘Just Russian infiltration.’ Natasha countered dryly. A tension shivered through you as she finally acknowledged the unspoken. The childhood friendship that had brought you here and the lie at the centre of it. 

A burning sadness bubbled up inside you. You could taste it burning your throat. Your eyes pricked suddenly with tears. 

Natasha stared at you with confusion and something akin to fear. 

You moved toward her, watching as she resisted an urge to step further back. You took her hands in yours. You blinked and for a moment, her hair was blue.

‘I’m going to say this wrong.’ You explained ruefully, holding her wide eyed attention. Her palms were warm, soft and familiar. 

‘I’m on your side.’ You promised clumsily. ‘Even if you decide to join the aliens. Even if you don’t want it. You didn’t stop being my best friend.’

You waited for an evaluating stare, a moment of hesitation. 

Instead, you felt the soft push of Natasha’s head pressing against your shoulder. Her body moved flush against yours. Your arms slid around her back. You felt the curve of her spine beneath her clothes. The thud of her heart, hidden within a ribcage.

‘There’s a spare room ready.’ Natasha murmured at last, words muffled. ‘But maybe you can just stay in here.’

Natasha held her chin high as she took a step back, regarding you expectantly. 

A wide smile broke out on your face. 

‘A sleepover? On a school night?’ You teased, enjoying the way your acceptance brightened Natasha’s countenance too. 

.

You changed into your pyjamas in Natasha’s ensuite bathroom. You brushed your teeth and stared at yourself for a few minutes in her large mirror. 

You wondered how different you must look to her now. If she noticed all the traces of growing up laid out on your skin. 

Natasha was beginning to feel eternal. 

You left the bathroom and froze almost immediately in your tracks. 

Natasha was standing beside her bed, putting on her pyjama top. It was halfway over her head and her bare back faced you. 

You couldn’t stop your sharp intake of breath. 

Scars littered her soft curves.

Harsh, deep welts that hurt to look at. Her skin was mottled in places, coated with different shades of injury. Some scars were older, but others seemed painfully new. 

They criss-crossed into a brutal painting, brushstrokes feverishly ripped across her skin. 

A sharp sense of outrage was already burning through you. A need to fix what had already been done. 

Natasha had already pulled her top down calmly, turning to face you with steady resolve. 

‘I’m not ashamed of them.’ She said with simple directness. 

Natasha kept her chin up as you walked closer to her. You noticed the slight tremble in her jaw when you were inches from her. She held her arms still at her side and you wondered if she was resisting the urge to hug herself. Defensiveness rippled through her. A readiness to hold onto her dignity.

You had seen that stance many times before, in the high school cafeteria. 

For the first time, you realised that Natasha did not remember you like you remembered her. She could not recall the simplicity of teenage drama and stupid crushes. 

A lifetime of trauma sat between you. There was no before or after with Natasha. She’d had scars long before she’d had blue hair.

There were no words for your new understanding. Your chest squeezed with something like love or sadness.

‘I know.’ You answered her at last. You shrugged helplessly. ‘I just wish I’d been around.’

You touched Natasha’s face without thinking, a careful stroke along her cheek. Your fingers reached her hair and you touched a piece of it reverently. When you looked back to her face, Natasha’s eyes were closed. 

Your kiss was feather light. Your lips barely brushed hers. The taste of her stained your mouth anyway. You felt yourself reorientate like a compass finding North. 

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her smile was shy. You still saw the fear lingering at the edge of everything. You chose not to mind it. 

.

You slept in the same bed that night. Natasha held your arm lightly between her own. 

Her even breaths lulled you with their gentle rhythm. Loose strands of her hair tickled your clavicle. 

You stared at the ceiling and thought about intimacy. About love and friendship. 

The lingering tattoo of Natasha on your lips was spreading through your veins now.

At 3am, an alarm sounded.

Sudden and pounding, it echoed from the ceiling. A droning tempo that had you scrambling to your feet.

Natasha grabbed your arm tiredly, halting your sleepy confusion

‘Avengers alarm.’ She informed you, her voice crisp and clear. You felt like you’d barely blinked before a dressed Natasha Romanoff was walking out the door. 

All the words you wanted to say were still on your tongue. 

.

Seven hours. 

Seven hours spent pacing the common room. Watching an unhelpful news broadcast and hoping the building’s AI system might finally tell you something useful. 

Seven hours imagining the worst. Seven hours praying for her to come home. 

.

When the elevator doors opened at last, you were beside yourself. 

‘Thank God.’ You muttered as you hurried forward, pulling Natasha into a tight hug. You breathed her in. ‘Thank God.’ You repeated, more for yourself than for her.

When you let her go, Natasha took a moment to look at you properly. 

‘You waited.’ Natasha commented slowly, her gaze never wavering. 

You nodded silently, a lump caught in your throat. You couldn’t understand her expression. You didn’t have time to think

Her hand touched your waist. With one finger she reached over, tilting your chin towards her.

She licked her lips, full of intention. 

Her mouth pressed softly against yours. 

You were a compass and she was North.

.

When you fell in love with Natasha, she had red hair.

[natashasilverfox]

AGATHARIO AU: Agatha comes home to her wife and son and can’t believe how lucky she is.

[natashasilverfox]

Whispered in Russian

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha teaches you how to speak some Russian during your time together on a mission.

A/n: this was inspired from a request. Not sure if it was what you expected but I hope you'll still enjoy it.

Warnings: fluff, suggestive themes, cursing, Russian translations from google (because I unfortunately do not know the language)

Words: 3250

“Bron' dlya Nataliyi Romanovoy.”

Natasha’s Russian accent flows effortlessly, her voice smooth and confident as she speaks to the front desk receptionist. Her tone carries the ease of someone completely at home in the language. 

It’s a voice you’ve grown intimately familiar with—not just as her teammate for years but also as her partner.

Which also makes it easier to pick up and piece together some of the words, though you’re still far from being fluent. 

Reservation for Natalia Romanova, you translate silently.

The receptionist offers a polite smile, tapping away at her computer until she finds the reservation. With a nod, she retrieves a key card and slides it across the counter to Natasha.

“Dobro pozhalovat, gospazha Romanova. Vot vashi klyuchi ot nomera.”

You listen intently, trying to match the sounds to meaning, but the words come faster than you can process. Your grasp falters after the first few phrases. 

Welcome…Romanova…key

You almost have it, but the rest slips through your mental filter, lost in the quick flow of syllables. Before you can catch up, the receptionist continues in a kind but rapid tone.

“Esli vam ili vashey zhene potrebuyetsya pomoshch, pozvonite na resepshn, i my s radostyu vam pomozhem.”

At that, Natasha’s lips quirk up in a small, amused smirk. The expression is subtle but unmistakable, and it draws your curiosity. 

You glance at her, silently asking what amused her, but she offers no explanation, only thanking the receptionist with a graceful nod as she takes the key card. 

“Spasibo,” Natasha says, her voice as composed as ever.

Thank you. 

That part you recognize immediately, the basic phrase standing out like a familiar face in a crowd.

Natasha’s hand finds your waist as she guides you away from the desk, her touch grounding and affectionate. 

Still, your mind lingers curiously on the exchange. 

Once inside the room, you dive into setting up your equipment for the mission, carefully pulling out the listening gear from your bag. 

Meanwhile, Natasha checks the room methodically, her eyes scanning for anything amiss. She ends her sweep at the window, drawing back the shutters slightly to observe the building across the street—the one where the targets work at.

“What did the receptionist say to you at the end?” you ask, your curiosity finally spilling over as you adjust the calibration on the gear. 

Natasha glances over her shoulder at you, a glint of amusement in her eyes. She takes her time responding, watching as you work with meticulous focus.

“She said if we needed anything, we could call the front desk,” Natasha replies casually, her tone almost too neutral.

You pause, narrowing your eyes as you turn to face her. 

“That’s it?” you ask, skepticism lacing your voice. “Then why did you react like that?”

The smirk you’d noticed earlier reappears, tugging at the corners of her lips. Natasha steps closer to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning in.

“Zhena,” she repeats slowly, enunciating the word with deliberate care. Her breath is warm against your skin as she presses a quick, affectionate kiss to your cheek. “It means ‘wife.’ She called you my wife.”

“Oh,” you reply, your heart fluttering at the thought. 

You fall silent for a moment, processing, before quietly repeating the word under your breath. 

“Zhena,” you murmur, practicing the pronunciation like a secret you want to keep safe. You say it again, slightly louder, trying to mimic Natasha’s intonation.

Natasha’s expression softens as she watches your reaction, her smirk giving way to a small, genuine smile.

Once satisfied with your attempt, you nod firmly, confidence growing. 

Your gaze shifts to the small table in the corner of the room, and something catches your eye. You gesture toward it, brow raised.

“Well,” you say, “that explains the bottle of champagne.”

Natasha follows your gaze, her chuckle warm and rich as she spots the chilled, unopened bottle perched beside two crystal glasses. 

“Hill said this was the only room available,” she replies, her fingers tracing soft patterns at your sides. Her voice drops slightly, the edge of a smirk returning to her lips. “Guess that means we’re playing newlyweds.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, leaning against her as you ponder the situation. 

“Alright,” you nod thoughtfully, “and it won’t look suspicious if we don’t leave our room much since, technically, we’re on our honeymoon.” 

Natasha’s smirk deepens, her eyes glinting with mischief. She tilts her head closer, her lips brushing lightly against yours. 

“Oh, that sounds fun,” she murmurs, her tone dropping into a suggestive lilt.

You roll your eyes, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrays your amusement. 

“I meant it’s a good cover for our mission,” you say pointedly, pulling back just enough to regain your composure. You gesture toward the gear on the table before raising a brow at her. “Or did you already forget the reason why we’re here in the first place?”

Natasha doesn’t answer immediately. 

Instead, her smirk shifts into something a little more daring as she tightens her hold on your waist before pulling you flush against her. Her lips ghost over yours again as she leans in, just close enough for her voice to drop to a whisper.

“I’m multitasking,” she teases, the husky tone sending a shiver down your spine before she closes the small distance between you two.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Some time later, after you two manage to refocus on the mission, you settle in to monitor the listening equipment. 

The two of you wait patiently, earpieces in place, scanning for the key information you need.

But after a few hours of static-filled recordings, indistinct conversations, and absolutely nothing useful, Natasha notices your shoulders beginning to tense with exhaustion. 

She rests a hand on your arm. 

“Take a break,” she offers softly. “I’ll keep watch for now.”

You hesitate, but the encouraging smile on her lips convinces you. 

“Alright,” you relent, stretching out your stiff shoulders before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once inside, the hot water works wonders, the steam easing the tension in your muscles. 

You feel the stress of the mission starts to melt away, but as you finish, you realize you’ve made a small mistake. 

You forgot to grab your change of clothes for the night. 

With a sigh, you wrap the towel around yourself, water still clinging to your skin, and step out of the bathroom.

The cool air sends a shiver through you as you pad quietly toward your bag.

Natasha’s back is to you as she speaks on the hotel phone. 

Her voice flows smoothly in Russian, soft but clear, and you catch a few familiar words—borscht, pelmeni, blini—dishes you’ve heard her name before.

As you rummage through your belongings, it hits you: she’s ordering dinner. You smile to yourself, amused by the domesticity of the moment, even in the middle of a mission. 

Not wanting to take any longer, you quickly grab what you need, tossing your bag back in its original position as you hear Natasha finish up.

“Da, prosto ostav’te—blyat…”

The abrupt edge in Natasha’s voice pulls your attention, her sudden exclamation making you look up in curiosity.

Her words have stopped mid-sentence, her lips parted slightly as her eyes roam over you. Her gaze lingers on the droplets of water still glistening on your skin, the curve of your shoulders, and the towel that clings just a little too loosely to your body.

It takes her a moment to catch herself. Natasha clears her throat, her voice steadier as she quickly finishes her conversation. 

“Prostite,” she mutters into the phone. “Ostav’te yedu u dveri. Spasibo.”

You pause where you stand as you attempt to piece together what she just said. Your limited Russian skills manage to translate fragments: leave…food…door. 

It’s enough to guess that she told them to leave your dinners outside the room so they won’t come in and see all your equipment set up.

But you also notice that there’s one word missing from the sentence—the one she exclaimed earlier.

It lingers in your mind, unaccounted for, and you try remembering how Natasha said it.

“Blyat…” you repeat, testing the word carefully, sounding it out until you nod in satisfaction, confident you’ve got it.

A low groan comes from Natasha, prompting you to look back at her. Her eyes are noticeably darker now.

“Bozhe moy…” Natasha mutters under her breath, shaking her head lightly in exasperation.

Your brow quirks in amusement at her tone, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a curse word—just something someone would say when they’re surprised or frustrated,” Natasha says stiffly, her voice a little strained, though she manages to seem mostly composed.

Her eyes eventually betray her, though, drifting back to the droplets of water sliding down your skin. 

“So what’s the translation?” you press, crossing your arms at her vague response. The motion inadvertently shifts the towel, loosening it further.

Natasha’s jaw tightens. Her gaze flickers to the towel, and she exhales sharply through her nose, her control clearly fraying. 

Even though she looks like she’s about to close the distance between you, it’s clear she won’t answer your question, which makes your expression fall lightly into a mock disappointed pout.

“You said you’d help me improve my Russian during this mission,” you remind her, your tone innocently light as you step closer to stand in front of her. 

The memory of her promise lingers in your mind—how she’d caught you practicing in secret and insisted you ask her for help whenever you needed it.

Her lips twist in hesitation, probably also remembering her promise, and for a moment, it seems like she might resist.

But then she relents with a sigh. 

“It’s basically like saying ‘fuck,’” Natasha explains, her voice low and even. She fixes you with a pointed look, her gaze burning as she adds, “As in, you surprised me, standing half-naked in the middle of the room like this.” 

A laugh escapes you, though your cheeks warm at the intensity of her gaze. You move to hover a hand above her chest, tracing a finger lightly against the edge of her tank top.

“Were you surprised…or frustrated?” you ask, your tone full of mischief. 

Natasha shoots you a warning look, one that says you already know the answer.

“I don’t think learning Russian curse words was part of your original goal here,” she counters, her voice tight.

“Who says I haven’t learned some phrases already?” you reply with a playful shrug.

Her eyebrows lift, intrigued. “Like what?”

You shake your head, refusing to elaborate. “I’m still practicing my pronunciation.”

Natasha smirks, leaning closer. “I can help.”

The listening equipment chooses that moment to beep suddenly, interrupting your conversation, as it signals incoming noises.

“Too bad we’re still on the clock,” you quip with a teasing smile.

Natasha’s attention flickers reluctantly to the gear, her expression briefly clouded with disappointment.

You take the opportunity to head back to the bathroom and finish up.

As you go, a smirk tugs at your lips, the Russian phrase you’ve been practicing simmering in your mind.

Just as you step through the doorway, you hum thoughtfully, your voice low and deliberate as you mutter under your breath—just loud enough for Natasha to hear.

“How did it go again...trak-hni…menya…trakhni menya…”

You don’t need to turn around to know the effect your words have. Natasha’s sharp intake of breath is unmistakable, and your smirk widens in satisfaction. 

Behind you, Natasha freezes, her lips parting slightly, her entire body going still as she processes what you just said. The weight of your casual tone and the boldness of your phrasing leave her momentarily stunned.

By the time she regains her composure, you’ve already disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click.

A low, disbelieving chuckle escapes her after a moment, followed by a quiet grumble as she mutters to herself, “Of all the times to be on a mission…” 

Natasha shakes her head and exhales, grabbing the earpiece with a resigned sigh.

Sliding it back on, she tries to focus on the task at hand, her eyes scanning the equipment as if sheer willpower could drown out her thoughts.

But her gaze betrays her, drifting back toward the bathroom door.

It lingers there, her resolve wavering as the temptation to follow you creeps in, tugging at her self-control.

Her mind conjures an image of you inside—water still clinging to your skin and your voice low and teasing as you repeat the Russian phrase for “fuck me” over and over again. 

The imagination is enough to make her swallow hard, her grip tightening on the table’s edge.

With a sharp, frustrated exhale, Natasha forces her attention back to the mission, her eyes narrowing as if determination alone could block the distractions. 

And she does succeed in regaining her composure eventually, though, every now and again, your voice echoes in her mind—soft, playful, and full of mischief.

Each syllable you murmured is as clear as if you were still standing there, taunting her with that dangerous smirk.

The corners of her lips twitch despite herself. 

You’ve always told her how much you love hearing her speak in Russian—how the sound of it stirs something in you. 

Natasha had always found your words amusing, but hearing you just now, with your hesitant yet deliberate tone, she’s beginning to understand exactly what you meant.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After dinner, Natasha takes it upon herself to continue monitoring the listening gear, insisting that you rest up first after the long trip here and the exhausting setup.

Her tone left little room for argument, so you relented, knowing how stubborn she could be about these things and the fact that she is more than capable of staying concentrated on the task for longer than you can.

Hours pass, the rhythmic static and indistinct chatter from the equipment blending into the quiet of the room.

Natasha barely notices how late it’s gotten until she feels your arms wrap gently around her shoulders from behind.

You lean in close, your warm breath brushing against the side of her head as you carefully remove her earpieces. 

“Poydem so mnoy spat’,” you whisper softly.

Natasha’s lips curve into a small, pleased smile at your perfect pronunciation. Turning to face you, she raises a brow, her expression amused.

“Did you learn that specifically for moments like this?” she teases.

You smirk back at her. 

“With how often you lose yourself in work, I figured learning how to call you to bed should be one of the first things I perfect.” 

Natasha shakes her head fondly, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. 

“Of course you would,” she murmurs, but there’s no mistaking the affection in her voice.

Obliging you, she removes the rest of the gear and allows you to pull her gently from the chair toward the large bed.

As she moves, her gaze flickers to the nightstand, catching sight of your tablet screen. The familiar display of the language-learning app you’ve been using to practice Russian glows faintly in the dim light.

Settling in beside her, you lie back against the pillows while Natasha props herself up on one elbow, her head resting on her hand. Her green eyes glimmer with a soft light as she looks at you, a small smile playing on her lips.

“You know,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “I’m sure I can teach you Russian better than that app.” 

Her comment makes you laugh lightly. 

“I know, but our free time doesn’t always line up for me to get a lesson from Ms. Romanoff,” you tease, smirking.

“It’s Mrs.,” Natasha corrects, her playful smirk matching yours. “Don’t forget, we’re technically married right now.”

You smile, your gaze softening as you look at her. 

“Right. How could I forget that you’re my ‘zhena?’”

The word slips out in a playful, teasing tone, but it has an unexpected effect.

Natasha’s heart flutters so much at hearing you call her your wife in Russian that she has to look away for a moment to regain her composure. 

Her expression is tender when she looks back at you, her other arm moving around your midsection and pulling you closer. 

“I have time now,” she offers, her voice low. “Anything you want to learn?”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your chin as you consider. 

“Alright, how do you say…‘you look beautiful?’”

Natasha’s smile widens slightly. 

“Ty vyglyadish’ prekrasno,” she replies smoothly.

You repeat the phrase under your breath, scrunching your face slightly in concentration as you practice. Once you’re confident enough, you turn to her with a gentle smile.

“Ty vy-glya-dish’ prekrasno,” you say, your pronunciation close but not perfect.

Natasha chuckles softly in amusement when she realizes you just wanted to say the phrase back to her. 

“Are you trying to make me fall for you even more by complimenting me in Russian?”  

You smirk playfully. “Depends. Is it working?”

Huffing lightly, Natasha rolls her eyes, though there’s a clear fondness in her exasperation. She looks away briefly, but you catch her cheek gently, turning her gaze back to yours.

“How do you say…‘I love you?’” you ask softly, your voice tinged with both curiosity and affection.

Natasha’s expression softens further, her features open and vulnerable as she answers. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she says, enunciating each syllable carefully for you. 

“Ya tebya lyu…blyu,” you repeat slowly, trying to mimic how her lips move, but the last syllable doesn’t quite land how it should.

Natasha chuckles lightly, her hand moving to cup your chin. 

“When you say ‘lyublyu,’” she explains gently, “you have to purse your lips more.”

You try again, adjusting your pronunciation, and then glance at her for confirmation. 

“Like that?” you ask innocently, unaware that you had said it perfectly, making Natasha’s heart beat a little faster at the sound of your voice saying those words to her in her native language. 

“Say it again,” Natasha murmurs, her voice soft. 

Focusing intently, you follow her previous instructions.

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

Just as you say the last sound, Natasha leans in suddenly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

Your smile grows against her mouth as realization dawns that she made you repeat it for her benefit. 

“Mmm, you’re teasing me when you're supposed to be teaching me,” you murmur lightly in reprimand.

Natasha pulls back slightly, her green eyes glinting with playful mischief. 

“Maybe I just love the way you say it,” she counters, her tone low and warm. 

You huff lightly, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation before scooting closer.

Natasha relaxes fully into the bed, letting you rest your head on her shoulder and tuck your face into the curve of her neck. Her arms wrap around you, holding you in a soft embrace.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Natasha’s voice breaks through, gentle and curious. 

“What made you decide to learn Russian?”

There’s a brief pause as you consider her question, and then you tilt your head to look up at her, your eyes filled with affection. 

“Russian is a part of who you are, Natasha,” you say earnestly. “Where you came from. To learn another way to connect with you…” You trail off, your soft smile widening. “Who wouldn’t want to do that?”

Natasha’s heart swells at your words, and for a moment, all she can do is hold you closer, her fingers brushing lightly over your back.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she whispers, her voice barely audible but still filled with the depth of her feelings for you.

You settle back against her, smiling into her shoulder, your voice gentle as you reply.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, too.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: got distracted by a cute request and made another little fluff fic. thank you for reading! Now I'll get back to working on my series. 😅

Also here are the translations below:

“Bron' dlya Nataliyi Romanovoy.” - Reservation for Natalia Romanova.

“Dobro pozhalovat, gospazha Romanova. Vot vashi klyuchi ot nomera.” - Welcome, Mrs. Romanova. Here are your room keys.

“Esli vam ili vashey zhene potrebuyetsya pomoshch, pozvonite na resepshn, i my s radostyu vam pomozhem.” - If you or your wife need assistance, please call the front desk and we will be happy to assist you.

“Spasibo,” - Thank you

“Zhena,” - Wife

“Da, prosto ostav’te—blyat…” - Yes, just leave it—fuck...

“Prostite, Ostav’te yedu u dveri. Spasibo.” - Sorry, leave the food at the door. Thank you.

“Blyat” - fuck

“Bozhe moy…” - My god...

“...trak-hni…menya…trakhni menya…” - ..fuck...me...fuck me...

“Poydem so mnoy spat’,” - Come to bed with me

“Ty vyglyadish’ prekrasno,” - You look beautiful

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” - I love you

[natashasilverfox]

Magic

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

1.6K

.

That morning, Natasha came to breakfast brimming with excitement.

You sensed the change in her energy immediately. You ate together at the cafeteria every day, the rigid Shield routine making your schedules generally easy to coordinate. 

You observed her subtly. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. 

Her long red hair was tied back in the usual ponytail. She wore an oversized grey t-shirt and leggings. She looked typically effortless. 

She tapped her fork against the side of her plate.

‘What?’ You asked at last, not able to stand the suspense any longer. 

Natasha looked up from her breakfast and her eyes were electric. So was her smile.

 ‘Are you free this afternoon?’ She asked you, ignoring your own question.

‘Yeah.’ You replied, elongating the sound as you tried your best to read her expression. 

Natasha nodded to herself and glanced down at her plate, You kicked her foot lightly under the table. 

Natasha’s attention snapped back to you and you noted just how bright her smile was. 

‘What do you have planned?’ You smiled back automatically.  

Natasha propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin against her hand. She shrugged her shoulders playfully. Your attention caught on her eyelashes. You pushed down the familiar feeling of attraction. 

‘Wanna have a sleepover?’ She asked you suddenly. The nervous excitement was almost buzzing from Natasha’s skin now.  

Understanding flooded you all at once. 

You forgot sometimes, because it was so easy to be Natasha’s friend.

You forgot that you were her first one.

‘Of course.’ You answered immediately, reaching over to steal a piece of food from her plate. Natasha’s reactions were always better than yours. She swatted you away easily.

.

You made plans to meet Natasha outside that afternoon. 

She refused to tell you where she was. Instead, she sent you a text with a picture of the view from where she was sitting and a smiley face.

You rolled your eyes at her teasing treasure hunt. Natasha was your favourite person. 

She was lying out on the grass behind one of the Shield residential buildings. 

Her eyes were crinkled, squinting from the sunshine as she identified you from a distance. 

Her wave was small. It seemed understated, but you knew she wasn’t this enthusiastic with anyone else.

Natasha got to her feet to greet you, her sunglasses were pushed up into her hair.

You caught her momentary hesitation and you opened your arms with the steady confidence you knew she sometimes needed.

Natasha hugged you with a subtle relief. 

You loved that she was beginning to trust in your friendship. You didn’t mind being patient.

You lay together in the warm sunshine for a few more hours, revelling in the lack of Shield tasks to do. Inevitably, the conversation kept moving back to your evening plans.

Natasha was going to cook you dinner.

She gave you an excited smile when she told you.

Her ear piercings glittered in the sunlight. 

You loved her. 

.

The sunshine made you sleepy and you ended up lying back with your eyes closed. Natasha kept her fingers resting gently at the top of your head, picking up her book and flitting through the pages artfully with one hand.

Natasha woke you as the sun was starting to slip behind the taller buildings. 

You smiled automatically when you opened your eyes to the sight of her.

Natasha insisted on carrying your overnight bag as you walked back to her place. 

You let yourself acknowledge your own excitement as you entered her apartment.

You’d only ever visited her place once before, a few months ago. You remembered it mostly for the sparse decoration. 

Now, subtle pieces of her personality had started to clutter the space. It looked much better for it.

Natasha walked proudly through to the living room, it took you a moment to understand her purposefully slow gait and side glances. To realise what she wanted you to see.

Your mouth opened in surprise at the fairy lights that she’d hung along the far wall. 

‘Wow.’ You commented, your heart twisting in a strange way. No one had any idea about this side of Natasha.

Natasha flushed, pulling her hair out of the pony tail and letting the wall of red hair partially obscure her. 

‘It’s silly.’ She murmured.

‘No.’ You smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I think it’s the best.’

You sat together on the sofa and at Natasha’s insistence, you chose something to watch on her laptop. As the evening went on, you noted all the new pieces around you that had been chosen by Natasha. The cartoon Easter bunny on the mug she offered you. The leafy green plant that took up a corner of the room. A birthday card you’d sent her. You tried not to smile too obviously.

.

Natasha made far too much pasta for dinner. You watched her brow furrow in frustration as she realised. 

You told her you didn’t mind but she shook her head.

‘I should have checked the recipe.’ She muttered to herself harshly. Natasha was rarely angry at anyone but herself.

You placed your hand on her shoulder and Natasha’s breath caught. Slowly, you felt the tension leave her. 

‘Sorry.’ She murmured softly after a moment. 

You wrapped an arm around her, giving her a careful side hug. 

‘Don’t apologise.’ You commanded easily. ‘This day is already the best day.’

Wordlessly, Natasha turned around in your hold. Her face buried against your shoulder as she hugged you tightly.

Her vulnerability settled in your chest. 

‘Come on.’ You suggested in a gentle tone. ‘Don’t worry. I know how sleepovers work.’

You led her back to the sofa and Natasha sat down, her head swivelling in confusion as you sat behind her on the very back of the sofa. 

You nodded over to her laptop.

‘This time, you pick.’ You prompted as you split her hair into several pieces and began a simple braid. Natasha’s lips pressed together and you sensed her quiet gratefulness. 

You squeezed her shoulders with your knees affectionately.

As the opening credits of a Julia Roberts rom-com sailed past on the screen, Natasha hummed to herself in satisfaction. 

Slowly, she leaned against your left leg.

You stayed still after you’d finished the braid, not wanting to disturb her. Natasha seemed to have become slowly engrossed in the movie. 

You tried to pay attention too. 

Absentmindedly, Natasha picked up your hand. She threaded her fingers with yours and let them rest near her shoulder. 

You felt shaky with a rush of love.

You tried to remind yourself that this didn’t mean the same to her. You closed your eyes, giving up on the movie entirely as you tried to ground yourself.

Natasha wasn’t your girlfriend. 

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t ruin her first ever friendship. It wasn’t fair. 

When the movie finished and the end credits were rolling, you looked down at Natasha for the first time. 

You should have guessed something was wrong from her silence.

‘Hey.’ You worried immediately as you registered the tear tracks staining her cheeks. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

Natasha’s lip trembled at your acknowledgement. She kept staring at the laptop screen.

‘I’m sorry.’ She told you, and for a brief illogical moment, you thought she was still talking about the pasta.

‘What’s wrong?’ You repeated, as slow rising panic filled you. Natasha had never cried in front of you before. 

You tightened your hold of her hand. 

‘I love you.’ Natasha whispered. You could feel the shivers running down her spine. 

Shock flooded you. 

‘You love me?’ You repeated dumbly. 

Natasha took a shuddering breath. 

��I don’t want to ruin this.’ She mumbled as she got to her feet. ‘I know it must sound ridiculous.’ 

Your joined hands broke as she started to walk away. 

You watched her clench and unclench her fingers. You realised she was trembling all over. 

‘Natasha.’ You whispered.

‘I just hoped that maybe you might see today.’ Natasha continued nervously, her Russian accent catching at the end of each sentence. ‘That I can be normal, you know?’

She turned to you and her smile made your heart ache.

‘I know that you know some of the things I’ve done.’ She whispered sadly.

.

You’d been part of the extraction team from Budapest. Natasha had never mentioned that mission, but you’d seen the blankness on her face when she’d first arrived at Shield Headquarters. You’d read through her file once. Lots of it was guesswork, but it couldn’t all be wrong.

When you’d first become friends, you’d noticed the constant dark circles under her eyes that told of nightmares you couldn’t imagine.

You didn’t hold the things in that file against her. Natasha already held them against herself.

.

You stood up from the sofa and took a step forward. 

Natasha huffed a nervous breath, brushing a loose piece of hair away from her face.

You took her hand again, and watched a sweet relief calm her expression.

At last, you understood the feeling that was written across Natasha’s face.

You’d been feeling it just as long as she had. 

‘I do know some of the things you’ve done.’ You acknowledged slowly, watching Natasha’s lips part with shallow breaths. ‘There are things I know that you don’t talk about.’

You heard Natasha’s breath catch. You watched her go still with nerves.

‘But that doesn’t stop me loving you. Because I already know your heart.’

You kissed Natasha softly. Her lips pressed hurriedly against yours. 

Kissing Natasha felt like fire in the rain. 

When you broke apart, Natasha’s smile was vulnerable and bright at the same time.

Her skin sparkled under the fairy lights. 

She looked like magic.

[natashasilverfox]

Agatha: You need to come with me to drop Nicky off at school from now on!

Rio just trying to eat an apple: Okay, I’d love too

Agatha: You need to kiss me as well really make out with me, touch me too

Rio: At a school? I think we’d get in trouble my love

Agatha: 3 men tried flirting with me today and not one woman flirted with me! I’m losing my edge!

Rio: So you want me to come with you to school, not to drop our son off and be a cute little family but to prove that you’re a lesbian?

Agatha: 3 men Rio! 3 men thought I looked straight and I will not tolerate it!

Rio trying not to laugh: Okay sweetheart I’ll come and prove how gay you are

Agatha: Good! Maybe Steve will stop touching my waist

Rio already with her knife in hand and fire in her eyes: Steve does what?!

Agatha: There she is, bring that fire tomorrow

Rio: I’m going to castrate him

Agatha: Okay maybe don’t do that, in public anyway

Rio: Bastard