#Natasha needs a hug | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spaghettiposts · 7 months ago

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So…you’ve decided to hurt me 💔 (I love it)

"Find Me Attractive Again"

Based on this request

Summary: You had a wonderful girlfriend, and so what happens when you discover she has an eating disorder

Warnings: Eating disorder, Hurt Nat, Sad Nat, Neglecting Y/n. Panic Attacks. Purging, throwing up. Major hurt/comfort, from both sides.

P.S I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, so I apologise. I also took my own spin on it since it was kind vague, so I hope you like it'.

P.S.S And also, after such heavy fics, I'd really like for someone to drop me a fluffy one, Not just Nat, any Marvel woman please.

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It was a typical summer day in New York City when your paths first crossed. You, wrapped up in the chaos of your medical residency, were rushing through the streets, white coat flapping behind you like a superhero’s cape, while Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, was navigating the crowds with the ease of someone who had seen it all.

It was at a street corner where fate decided to intervene, in the form of an iced coffee and a collision. Natasha, in her sleek elegance, accidentally bumped into you, sending her cold drink cascading down your front.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was a mix of genuine contrition and a hint of amusement.

You blinked, the cold seeping through your shirt, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “Well, at least it’s a hot day,” you replied, trying to brush off the mess.

Natasha quickly handed you some napkins, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're a humour one I see"

"That I am" you grinned "I've also cost you your coffee"

Natasha went to open her mouth, but you spoke instead.

“Let me make it up to you. Can I buy you another drink?”

"But I'm the one who spilt mine on you?" her eyebrow raised as she questioned.

"And?"

"I should be the one buying for you?"

You're smile didn't falter " Where's the chivalry in that?"

And that was the start of it all. What began as a clumsy encounter turned into a friendship neither of you expected. Natasha’s charm, mixed with her trademark snark, drew you in like a moth to a flame. Soon, the two of you were spending your precious free time together, swapping stories over drinks or taking long walks through the city.

Despite her guarded nature, Natasha opened up to you in ways she hadn’t with anyone else. You became her confidante, her sanctuary in a world filled with chaos and danger. And in turn, you found solace in her presence, a respite from the relentless demands of your residency.

As your friendship deepened, so did your feelings for her. You found yourself falling for the enigmatic Avenger, captivated by her strength, her wit, and the vulnerability she only showed to you. And one day, gathering every ounce of courage you had, you asked her out on a date.

To your delight, Natasha said yes, her smile lighting up the room in a way you had never seen before. And just like that, your friendship blossomed into something more, a new chapter in both of your lives.

Now, as you walked hand in hand through the bustling streets of New York, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. With Natasha by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever challenges life threw your way.

Little did you know, however, that behind the redhead’s confident facade lay a secret she was desperate to keep hidden. An invisible battle she fought every day, one that threatened to consume her from within.

And so, all it would take for you to find out, as a plate of untouched food, and certain other stuff

---

The elevator door opened with a ding, admitting you into the familiar warmth of your shared home (Floor in the compound that Tony had so happily given) with Natasha. The faint scent of breakfast lingered in the air, a reminder of the meal you had meticulously prepared before your short 12-hour shift at the hospital.

But as you stepped further into the living space, your brow furrowed in confusion. The plate of food you had set out for Natasha sat untouched on the dining table, a solitary fork resting against the edge.

"Nat?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet apartment. There was no response, just the eerie stillness of an empty room.

Concern gnawed at the edges of your mind as you ventured further into the living space, scanning every corner for any sign of your elusive girlfriend. But Natasha was nowhere to be found.

However, before you could think what to do next, the sound of retching echoed through the apartment, sending a shiver of dread down your spine. Without a moment's hesitation, you bolted towards the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you flung open the door, the sight that greeted you was enough to make your stomach churn. There stood Natasha, hunched over the toilet, her face contorted in agony as she forced herself to purge.

Instinct took over as you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from her mouth. "Nat, stop," you urged, your voice laced with urgency and concern.

For a moment, she resisted, the muscles in her arm tense with the effort of her struggle. But slowly, reluctantly, she relented, allowing you to pry her fingers away from their self-destructive task.

The sight of her trembling form, tears glistening in her eyes, tore at your heartstrings like nothing else. You wanted to wrap her in your arms, to shield her from the demons that haunted her, but you knew that this was a battle she had to fight on her own terms.

Gently, you guided her away from the toilet, leading her to the sink where you wet a washcloth and pressed it against her clammy forehead. "It's okay, Nat," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within her.

As you helped Natasha up from the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, her silence weighed heavily in the air, a palpable barrier between you. You guided her to the bed, her movements sluggish and unsteady, and gently urged her to sit down while you prepared a bath.

With practiced efficiency, you filled the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil to help soothe her frazzled nerves. But as you turned to help Natasha undress, you noticed the way she recoiled from your touch, her body tensing at the slightest contact.

Your heart ached at the sight, a pang of sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. You had always prided yourself on being there for Natasha, on offering her the unwavering support and love she so desperately needed. But now, faced with her silent withdrawal, you felt utterly helpless, like a bystander watching helplessly as a storm raged on the horizon.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back, giving Natasha the space she seemed to need. You watched in silence as she rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, before making her way to the bathroom.

It was only then that you noticed the small click of the lock as she closed the door behind her, a barrier sealing her off from the outside world. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the walls Natasha had built around herself, walls that even you, with all your love and devotion, could not penetrate.

For a moment, you stood there in the empty room, the weight of Natasha's silence bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But then, with a resolute shake of your head, you pushed aside your own doubts and fears, determined to stand by her side no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way to the bathroom door, your hand poised to knock. But at the last moment, you hesitated, the sound of running water and Natasha's soft sobs echoing through the wood.

But when the sound of retching pierced through the closed bathroom door, a surge of panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning. Without a second thought, you abandoned your plans to change and rushed back to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

With a swift motion, you twisted the doorknob, but to your dismay, it refused to budge. Locked. The realization sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through your veins, igniting a primal instinct to protect Natasha at all costs.

"Nat, open the door!" you called out, your voice tinged with desperation. But there was no response, just the sickening sound of her struggle echoing through the small space.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, you threw your weight against the door, the wood groaning in protest as it gave way beneath your force. For a moment, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of motion and sound, until finally, the door swung open with a resounding crash.

And there she was, hunched over the toilet once more, her body wracked with violent spasms as she forced herself to purge. Without hesitation, you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from their self-destructive task.

"Nat, please stop," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. But this time, there was no resistance, no struggle against your touch. Instead, Natasha collapsed against you, her tears mingling with the cool touch of your skin.

With a sense of resolve, you refused to leave Natasha alone in the bathroom this time. Instead, you stayed by her side, offering silent support as she struggled with the demons that haunted her.

As the water continued to run, filling the tub with warm, comforting steam, you gently guided Natasha towards it. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes cast downwards, before finally sinking into the water with a heavy sigh.

You stood by the tub, your presence a silent reassurance as Natasha submerged herself beneath the surface, her shoulders tense with the weight of her burdens. With a soft exhale, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your palm before lathering it into her hair with gentle, soothing strokes.

"I won't look," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

Natasha remained silent, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the bathroom. But you could sense the tension in her body, the invisible barriers she had erected to keep you at arm's length.

Undeterred, you continued to wash her hair, your fingers working through the tangles with practiced precision. With each stroke, you hoped to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, to offer her a glimpse of the love and acceptance that lay waiting on the other side.

But despite your best efforts, Natasha remained distant, her silence a heavy weight in the air between you. It was as if she had retreated into herself, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts and fears.

With a heavy heart, you finished washing her hair, rinsing away the suds with gentle care. Then, reaching for the washcloth, you began to bathe her body, moving with slow, deliberate motions as you washed away the stains of the outside world.

Gently, you lifted Natasha from the bathtub, her body feeling almost weightless in your arms. The sight of her frail form, bones protruding beneath the thin veil of her skin, sent a shiver of concern down your spine. It was a stark reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her body, a silent battle she fought day in and day out.

With tender care, you carried her back to the bed, laying her down with the utmost gentleness. You tucked the blankets around her, the soft fabric a comforting cocoon against the cold reality of her struggles.

As Natasha lay there, her eyes distant and unfocused, you made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts of how to help her. You knew that she needed nourishment, both for her body and her soul, but convincing her to eat was a battle in itself.

With a determined resolve, you rummaged through the pantry, searching for something light and easy to stomach. Finally, you settled on a plate of sliced fruit, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the darkness that threatened to consume Natasha from within.

Returning to the bedroom, you found Natasha still lying there, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. Carefully, you placed the plate of fruit on the bedside table, hoping that the sight of it would stir something within her.

"Nat," you said softly, your voice a gentle reminder of your presence. "I brought you a snack. It's just some fruit. Would you like some?"

For a moment, there was no response, just the steady rise and fall of Natasha's chest as she breathed in and out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she reached out a trembling hand, fingers curling around a slice of apple.

You held your breath, watching intently as Natasha brought the fruit to her lips, her movements hesitant and uncertain. But then, with a small nod of encouragement from you, she took a tentative bite, the sweetness of the apple filling the air between you.

A sense of relief washed over you as you watched Natasha eat, each bite a small victory in the battle against her eating disorder.

As Natasha slowly nibbled on the fruit, you settled beside her on the bed, the familiar weight of her body a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty. With a soft click of the remote, you turned on the television, the familiar theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S filling the room with its nostalgic melody.

You glanced over at Natasha, her gaze fixed on the screen, her lips curved ever so slightly in the beginnings of a smile. It was a small victory, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a tender smile of your own, you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against your side. The warmth of her body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of her breath a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night.

Together, you watched as the familiar antics of Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe unfolded on the screen before you. The laughter of the characters, the camaraderie of their friendships, served as a reminder of the bonds that held you and Natasha together, even in the darkest of times.

And as the episode came to an end, you turned to Natasha, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips. "Feeling a little better?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle caress against the silence of the room.

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. But then, with a small nod of her head, she leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours.

It was a small victory, a flicker of hope in the midst of despair. But for now, in this moment of quiet intimacy, it was enough. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way. As you snuggled into Natasha, the fragile contours of her body pressed against yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each delicate curve of her form, you could feel the sharp edges of her bones, a painful reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held her close, the weight of her fragility pressing down on you like a leaden weight. "Why, Nat?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of Natasha's unspoken pain hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, as your grip tightened around her, almost as if you were clinging to her for dear life, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I..." she began, her words faltering as if caught in the tangled web of her thoughts. But then, with a small shake of her head, she fell silent once more, the words hanging between you like an unspoken promise.

As you thought Natasha had drifted off to sleep, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating the dimly lit room. With a deep breath, you dialed the number for the hospital, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to make a decision that would change everything.

"Hello, this is Dr. Y/l/n," you began, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in the pit of your stomach. "I need to take the next month off."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a hesitant voice. "Dr. Y/l/n, are you sure? We're short-staffed as it is, and your patients—"

"I'm sure," you interrupted, your tone firm and unwavering. "I've already made up my mind."

The person on the other end of the line hesitated, clearly taken aback by your sudden decision. "But Dr. Y/l/n you're one of our top surgeons. We can't afford to lose you—"

"I understand that," you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. "But right now, I need to take care of someone who needs me more than anyone else."

There was a moment of silence as the gravity of your words hung heavy in the air between you. And then, with a resigned sigh, the person on the other end of the line relented, agreeing to grant you the time off on the condition that you'd go unpaid for the month.

As you ended the call, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You knew that taking time off from the hospital was a risk, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was being there for Natasha when she needed you most.

But as you turned to check on her, you realized that she had been awake the whole time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Natasha's voice cut through the silence of the room, her words heavy with emotion. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You met her gaze, the weight of her question hanging heavy in the air between you. Taking a deep breath, you reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering against her cheek.

"Because you needed me," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I love you, Natasha, and I would do anything for you."

Tears welled in Natasha's eyes as she listened to your words, her expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. "For everything."

As Natasha's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft hum of the room's ventilation system. You could see the turmoil swirling behind her eyes, the weight of her burdens threatening to crush her beneath their weight.

"Why did you do that, Natasha?" you asked gently, your voice laced with concern. "Why do you hurt yourself like this?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting away from yours as she searched for the words to explain the unexplainable. "It's… it's complicated," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Try me," you urged, your tone soft and understanding. "I want to understand, Natasha. I want to help you."

With a heavy sigh, Natasha began to speak, her words halting and uncertain at first, but gaining strength with each passing moment. "It's not just me," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's… it's the comments, the stares, the whispers behind my back."

Your heart ached as you listened to her words, the pain and anguish etched into every syllable. You knew all too well the harsh realities of the world Natasha inhabited, the constant scrutiny and judgment that followed her wherever she went.

"It's like… like I'm never good enough," Natasha continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I achieve, it's never enough. And the news, they… they only make it worse."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you watched Natasha unravel before you, the weight of her suffering a burden too heavy for her to bear alone. In that moment, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you, a burning indignation at the injustices Natasha had endured.

"And..." She trailed off

"And?" You pulled her into your arms, holding her close as if to show that you were there for her. You could feel the ache in her voice, the raw vulnerability laid bare before you.

"I just... You," Natasha began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "You used to look at me with such... such longing. You'd initiate everything, your touch, your kisses... But lately, it's like you don't even see me anymore."

Your heart clenched at her words, unsure of what to do or say.

"I thought... I thought maybe it was because of how I looked," Natasha continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I worked out more, if I stopped eating, if I... if I purged, maybe you'd find me attractive again."

Your breath caught in your throat at her confession, the pain of her self-inflicted suffering tearing at your heartstrings. How could she think such a thing? How could she believe that her worth was tied to her appearance?

But you remained silent, allowing Natasha to speak, to purge the demons that haunted her soul. For in that moment, you realized that the only way to help her heal was to listen, to truly listen, without judgment or condemnation.

"I just wanted to be enough for you," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "But I was so wrong, wasn't I? I was so wrong."

And as she buried her face in her hands, her words seemed to sink in, making you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling away, leaving you adrift in a sea of guilt and self-loathing.

Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself away from Natasha, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You stumbled backward, your eyes wide with shock as you realized the role you had played in her pain.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own ragged breaths. " I did that"

Natasha's eyes widened in concern as she watched you retreat, her voice tinged with fear. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

But you couldn't answer, couldn't bring yourself to face her, not when the guilt threatened to suffocate you. You hated yourself in that moment, hated the way you had let work consume you, the way you had neglected the person you loved most in the world.

And then it hit you, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over you like a tsunami. You sank to the floor, your body racked with sobs as the weight of your own self-loathing bore down on you like a heavy burden.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the darkness, her words lost amidst the chaos of your own thoughts. But you could feel her presence beside you, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort and support.

But you couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the thought of her touching you, not when you were the reason she was in pain. So you pushed her away, stumbling to your feet and retreating further into the shadows.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely audible above the storm of your own despair. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to… I didn't know…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the words tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, each repetition a desperate plea for forgiveness. But the only one you blamed was yourself, your own self-loathing swallowing you whole.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the chaos of your mind, her words lost in the tumult of your own despair. But you could feel her presence beside you, a steady anchor in the storm.

But even as she reached out to comfort you, you recoiled from her touch, the weight of your guilt too heavy to bear. You felt betrayed by yourself, , the person who had allowed this to happen.

"I'm sorry," you choked out once more, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to…"

But the words fell flat, empty and hollow in the face of your own self-condemnation. And as you sank further into the darkness, the weight of your own despair threatening to consume you, you knew that there was no escape from the demons that haunted you.

"Y/n, listen to me," Natasha's voice was firm, cutting through the haze of panic that clouded your mind. "You need to breathe. Deep breaths, okay?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of your racing heart.

"That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "Inhale... and exhale. You're okay, I've got you."

You focused on her words, on the steady rhythm of her breathing, allowing them to anchor you in the present moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n," Natasha continued, her grip on your hand reassuringly firm. "I'm right here with you, and I'm not letting you go."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you clung to her, the weight of your own self-loathing threatening to crush you beneath its suffocating embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I didn't-"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle finger against your lips, her eyes soft with understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

With trembling hands, you grasped Natasha's palms in yours, feeling the warmth of her touch seeping into your skin like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, needing to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your chest.

"I love you, Tasha," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pressed kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, each touch a silent testament to the depth of your love for her.

"I'm sorry for everything," you murmured between kisses, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for making you feel unloved, for neglecting you when you needed me most. I promise, I'll do better. I'll be better for you, for us."

Natasha's arms tightened around you, her own tears mingling with yours as she buried her face against your chest. "I love you too, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And I forgive you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

---

Over the next few days, you devoted yourself wholeheartedly to supporting Natasha, determined to make amends for your past neglect. You woke up early to prepare nutritious meals for her, ensuring that she had the sustenance she needed to fuel her body and soul.

You gently guided her through each day, offering words of encouragement and reassurance whenever she needed them. You deleted all the news apps from her phone, shielding her from the harsh judgments and scrutiny of the outside world.

And when you learned of the agents who had dared to badmouth Natasha, you wasted no time in tracking them down and giving them a piece of your mind. With a fiery determination burning in your eyes, you confronted them head-on, refusing to let them tarnish Natasha's reputation any further.

"You have no idea what she's been through," you spat, your voice laced with righteous anger. "She's one of the strongest, most resilient people I know, and she deserves nothing but respect."

The agents cowered before you, their faces pale with guilt and shame. And as you walked away, leaving them to ponder the consequences of their actions, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Every time you sensed Natasha spiraling, you were there, a steady anchor in her stormy sea. You showered her with kisses, peppering her face with affectionate gestures, a silent reminder of the love that enveloped her. Your touch was a constant presence, your fingers entwined with hers or softly tracing patterns on her skin, a tangible reassurance that you were there for her, always.

You made sure she had everything she needed, anticipating her wants before she even voiced them. Whether it was a warm meal or a comforting hug, you were always one step ahead, ready to offer her solace in her moments of need.

But even as you tended to her, Natasha noticed the turmoil brewing beneath your surface. Despite your smiles and jokes, she saw the shadows lurking in your eyes, the weight of your own struggles weighing heavily on your shoulders. And though you tried to hide it, she knew that your sleepless nights were spent wrestling with demons of your own.

---

As the time came for you to return to work after a month of devoted care for Natasha, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The thought of leaving her alone, vulnerable to the demons that had haunted her in the past, filled you with a gnawing anxiety.

You found yourself making up excuses, delaying your departure in a futile attempt to hold onto the precious moments you had shared together. But Natasha saw through your facade, her eyes searching yours for the truth that you were desperate to hide.

"Y/n, what's going on?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been acting strange lately, avoiding going back to work, making excuses to stay. Is something wrong?"

Your heart constricted at the concern in her voice, the weight of your own fears threatening to suffocate you. But you couldn't bring yourself to voice the truth, to admit to the depths of your own insecurities.

"I… I just don't want to leave you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid that if I go back to work, things will go back to how they were before. I'm afraid of losing you Tasha."

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, the vulnerability of your confession laying bare the depths of your fear. But Natasha's response was immediate, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace, her warmth a comforting balm against the storm raging within you.

"Y/n, listen to me," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. We've been through hell and back together, and I'm not about to let anything tear us apart."

With a heavy heart and a sense of resolve, you made the difficult decision to resign from your position, knowing that your place was by Natasha's side. As you prepared to leave, a fierce determination burned within you to make the most of the time you had left together.

With a hunger born of love and longing, you pulled Natasha into your arms, your lips seeking hers in a passionate kiss.

An so as you hold Natasha close, your heart overflowing with love and devotion, you feel the need to express the depths of your feelings to her.

"Nat," you begin, your voice soft and tender, "I need you to understand something. I love you more than words can express, more than I ever thought possible."

You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin against your lips before continuing.

"I love you for who you are, not for your past or your appearance. Every part of you, every scar, every imperfection, it's all part of what makes you so incredibly beautiful to me."

Your fingers trace the contours of her face, your touch reverent and adoring.

"And I want you to know that my love for you will never waver. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what obstacles come our way, I will always be by your side, loving you with every beat of my heart."

Tears shimmer in Natasha's eyes as she listens to your words, her own heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/n," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "More than you'll ever know."

---------

#THIS IS SO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN #BRAVO 👏 BRAVO 👏#IM IN PAIN #IN PIECES #IN TEARS #IN DISTRESS #I LOVE THEM BOTH SO MYCH #Natasha needs a hug #something everyone should know #avengers #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natalia alianovna romanova

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irondadspiderson4evr · 2 months ago

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Ah yes… Peter…

Peter, in the lab: Mr stark, are we cooking today or what!

Tony: Peter, we aren’t… in the kitchen?

—-

Peter: Mr. Stark, you’re girly pop!

Tony: … What?

—-

Tony: how are you feeling webs?

Peter, after a battle, in the med bay: Mother trucker dude, that hurt like a butt cheek on a stick!

Tony, concerned: What… does that mean?

Sam, laughing: Watch your profanity!

Steve and Bucky, confused: What the hell?

—-

Tony, his hands busy, handing over a piece of paper: Pete, can you read this to me?

Peter: actually, I never learned how to read.

—-

Natasha, fighting Peter on his homework: If you don’t do your work you’re going to end up at McDonald’s-

Peter: we goin’ to McDonalds if I don’t do my work?

—-

The avengers having a summer party

Tony: Peter what do you have-

Peter: A KNIFE!

Tony: WHAT? NO-

—-

Peter: So I was sitting there, BBQ sauce on my titties…

Tony: Peter you don’t have- what?

@spiderman-is-me

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helpimstuckinanotherworlddd · 3 months ago

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Veryy messy blackhill doodleee

#maria hill #natasha romanoff #blackhill #marianat #soapdraws #digital art #They both needed that hug #I’m too lazy to make this good #marvel fanart

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romanoffsbish · 7 months ago

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The Beaten and the Damned

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Nightmares | Choking

Natasha fears the worst; you offer the opposite | WC: 421

"A part of me will always be broken Y/N," Natasha whispered, her body in defense mode as she tried to hide the devastation racking through her. You froze at the sound of premature mourning leaving her, as if she thought this was the moment you'd finally leave her.

Take away the only safety she'd ever found; her heart, she held onto it somehow but she'd lose it with you.

She's mistaken, your throat burned at the thought, as if you could ever do such a thing. You shook your head and smiled away the thought, you tilted her red, snotty face up with a finger beneath her chin to make sure she hears you, "oh honey, that's okay," her auburn brows ticked and you gently wiped away the freshest tears.

"I choked you," she reminded you in disgust, her frame started to shake again so you scooted closer to pull her unusually frail body into yours. She resisted but you trapped her arms between your bodies and she melted into the pressure you applied, she shifted slightly and cried against your bare shoulder in broken strings that fractured your soul, intimately intertwined with hers.

"These cracks you speak of, they offer me the chance to love you harder my dear," you paused and reached out to wipe her face clean with aloe infused tissues. Then you pecked her bitten lips, ignoring the salty taste as a smile bloomed as you finished your thought aloud, whispered on her cheek, "all it is, is extra space to fill."

Natasha's barely beating heart stuttered in her chest as your happiness electrified her back to life. "I love you."

A humorless laugh left your lovers lips, she was in total disbelief of your never ending well of compassion. You watched her go to reach for you but then her hands retracted—eyes despondent as she caught sight of the oxidized red that etched the skin of her hands and arms. Her eyes traced over the bob in your throat, the one pained by the imprint of her hand on the muscle.

"Don't slip backwards Natasha," you begged even though your voice was hoarse, "I am okay, this is not the end of our love story—I trust you with all of me."

You kissed your teeth when her cold fingertips traced over the heated skin of your throat, tracing the outline her fingers left behind and she offered you a promise in her soft touch—she was here to stay. "I love you too."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff hurt comfort #natasha romanoff needs a hug #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg #natasha romanoff x gn!reader

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loomontoia · 1 year ago

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He's stubborn and tired (maybe a little sad), but also trying his best

#hes just like me fr #clint barton #hawkguy #hawkeye #marvel comics #digital art #marvel #mcu fanart #illustration #mcu #kinda angsty...?#featuring #natasha romanoff #cause i put her in everything i do #sleepy clint :3 #clint barton needs a hug #posted this one some time ago on ig and forgot to post here

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swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters · 13 days ago

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champagne supernova

summary - After the events in Sokovia, Wanda goes to live at the Avengers compound and there she ends up getting closer to Natasha, someone she initially thought hated her. Natasha had every reason in the world to hate Wanda, but seeing her so lost and broken with Pietro's death made Natasha, even if unconsciously, take on a protective stance towards Wanda, and the closer they got, the more a feeling that Natasha never thought she could really feel came to the surface. Clint invites them to spend Christmas with his family, feeling that some time away from the Avengers compound would do them good. And he wasn't wrong.

warning(s) — Fluff, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, More Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Canon Divergence, post Age of Ultron, My First Work in This Fandom, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Soft Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, mentions of Pietro, No Wanda/Vision, no nat/bruce, Natasha is a big softie, also is wanda, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Lesbian Wanda Maximoff, Lesbian Natasha Romanov, Mild Smut, Eventual Smut minors DNI please word count: 14,550k

Natasha felt her heart ache with agony when Hulk’s image disappeared from the screen. She knew Bruce had been battling with his own demons for a long time and even after joining the Avengers and saving the world more than they count, even now that they had found a way to put Hulk to sleep with ease, he still couldn’t relax. He was always on alert. And things only got worse after they met the Maximmof’s twins and Wanda used her abilities to make him lose control and attack and destroy everything in his path. Nat sighed deeply, trying not to show any emotions in that ship surrounded by so many people she didn’t know.

“So, where’s Bruce?” Fury asked, appearing at her side.

“I don’t know. He turned off the communication system and kept the Quinjet in stealth mood.”

“Well, at least the Quinjet is completely equipped. He’ll be fine.” Fury sighed, running a hand through his head. “Go get some rest, there’s nothing we can do for now.”

“Where are the others?”

“Barton and Rogers are in the infirmary. Tony rescued Thor after the city blew up and they were thrown down, and Vision just left Wanda here a moment ago.”

“Where is Pietro?”

Natasha felt tears welling up once again at Fury just shaking his head. “How?”

“Ultron’s final attack.”

“Where’s Wanda?”

“She’s down there, with Pietro.”

Natasha nodded and without saying anything else started her way to the lower levels of the ship. She wasn’t sure why she was going to check on Wanda, why she cared, especially after what she did, entering her mind, bringing back her worst memories, but still.

It didn’t take long for Natasha to locate Wanda and despite everything, it broke her heart to see her like that: her head on Pietro’s chest as her tears streamed down her face silently. She wasn’t sure what she would do or say as Wanda probably held them accountable for losing her brother, and in a way she was right. If Tony hadn’t created Ultron none of this would have happened. She also knew that Tony meant well but still.

Natasha sighed and approached them slowly, not wanting to startle Wanda, and not wanting to invade her final moments with her brother, but definitely not wanting her to be alone right now. She didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t very good at it, and the fact that she barely knew them didn’t help at all. Each person reacted differently to their grief, and Natasha had no idea how Wanda would react to her presence there.

“What?”

Wanda’s heavy accent and annoyed tone pulled her out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I just wanted to check on you.” Nat sighed, kneeling beside her.

“Why? Want to make sure I won’t use my powers to kill everyone in here?”

Natasha’s brow furrowed. Why would she think that?

“So?”

“I’m sorry.” Natasha shook her head. “No one here thinks you will do such a thing. I just- I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because that would be a really stupid question, I guess I just didn’t want you to be alone right now.” She shrugged.

“Why?”

“I won’t pretend I know how you’re feeling but I know the feeling of losing someone you loved.” Natasha said softly, more softly than she ever thought possible regarding Wanda but then her eyes flickered to Pietro’s body and well…

God, she was exhausted. She sat on the floor and leaned back, her whole body sore, her muscles complaining against the awkward position and the hard floor beneath her.

“So, what happens to me now?” Wanda asked after a minute.

“As far as I am concerned, you stay with us.” Natasha said, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, unless you don’t want to.”

“And where exactly would I go now?”

Natasha opened and closed her mouth a few times before settling for silence. She knew the implications of what Wanda said - she had lost everything, everyone. She didn’t have anywhere to go.

“I know.” Natasha exhaled deeply. “What I meant is that you don’t have to stay at the compound, or with us at all. I know that you hate us, that you hate Tony.” She bit her lip, thinking about the options. “I mean, I hope that despite everything, you decide to stay with us, but if not, then I’m sure Fury can help find a place for you.”

Natasha saw the surprise in the way Wanda’s eyes widened a bit at her words, at the way her brows rose, and she was surprised herself, but she realized that she meant it. Even if she was still mad at Wanda for invading her mind and making her relieve her worst memories, she knew what it was like to be completely alone and with nowhere to go, and she didn’t want that for her.

“You’re right, I don’t like Stark, but you and the others aren’t so bad.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. That was new. And good, maybe. “What made you change your mind about us?”

“Your friend, the arrow guy, he could have let me die down there when I froze, but he didn’t. He saved me. He said that it didn’t matter what I did or who I was, and he didn’t blame me for what was happening. He said that I had the choice to stay hidden and he would send Pietro to get me but if I decided to fight, the moment I walked through that door I would be an Avenger.”

“Yeah, this is how Clint is.” Natasha smiled genuinely despite everything. “Look, what happened can’t be changed, unfortunately, so, if you decide to stay with us, I promise you that we won’t hold what happened in Sokovia against you. It is your fault as much as ours. But the moment you stepped out of that door, after Clint peeptalk, you became an Avenger and we will help you.”

“As long as Stark is not the one responsible for me, I’m okay with it.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be.” Natasha smiled tiredly.

Before she could say anything else they felt the ship preparing to begin its descent for landing. As soon as the ship stopped they made their way to the higher levels. Natasha nodded as they walked past Fury and led Wanda into the compound.

“Nat! Wanda!” Clint’s voice stopped them as they were about to enter the building where the living area was. “Thank God you guys are okay.”

“I wouldn’t say okay, but we are alive.” Natasha said. “How are you?”

“I’ll be okay.” He smiled weakly. “Look, I spoke to Fury and he will take care of everything-” Clint gestured vaguely.

“Thank you.”

Wanda said absently and Nat could only imagine all the mixed emotions she was going through right now. She knew there wasn’t much they could do other than that but still.

“So, I’ll head to the farm, call me if you guys need anything.” Clint said when they remained silent.

“Thanks, Clint, we’ll do.” Nat smiled tiredly. “C’mon, Wanda, let’s find a room for you.” She put a hand on Wanda’s shoulder, not even realizing what she was doing until they started walking into the building.

Natasha led Wanda straight to one of the rooms, she could show the place around later.

“My room is just across the hall.” She pointed to a room with a closed door. “You will find average clothes in the dresser and everything you need in the bathroom if you want to take a bath. God knows I do.” Natasha exhaled shakily. “Just let me know if you need anything, ok?

“I guess you want your jacket back.” Wanda said flatly as she started to remove the item.

“You can keep it. It looks good on you.” Natasha stopped her movements gently.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I was just messing around back in the church.”

“Okay then.” Wanda smiled, pulling the jacket back.

Natasha nodded and went to her room. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she started removing her suit and went straight to the bathroom. She filled the bathtub and let her body sink in the hot water as all the feelings from that long week came crashing down on her.

She felt a mix of exhaustion, anger and sadness simmer beneath the surface, reminders of Ultron’s destruction, Bruce's departure, and the countless losses they had endured along the way. Yet, under it all, she couldn’t shake the nagging awareness of Wanda just down the hall.

Here was this girl - no, woman - who had lost so much in the span of a single battle. Her face, streaked with tears, haunted Natasha’s mind. It felt strange to feel protective toward her after everything. She wasn’t sure what had compelled her to sit by Wanda's side earlier, other than the raw understanding of how it felt to have no one, to feel like the world would swallow you whole in the quiet after a tragedy. That’s why she avoided being alone, because being alone made her think about life, and loss, and herself. And she hated it.

Inhaling deeply, Natasha sank a little deeper into the water, closing her eyes to let the warmth seep in. Her muscles started to loosen and she let herself relax a little bit. They had defeated Ultron, Strucker was dead, and for now they didn’t have any monsters or enemies to defeat, besides their own.

The images of the Red Room started to resurface and Natasha let out a long sigh. It would take her some time to push all those memories away again. She should be fuming at Wanda because of it, but for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she couldn’t bring herself to be really mad at her.

Once her skin began to prune, Natasha reluctantly got out, wrapping a towel around herself and padding barefoot across the floor to her room. She slipped into a loose shirt and sweatpants, and she glanced toward the door, wondering if Wanda was still awake. Maybe she should check on her? Just to make sure she was settled.

Before she could change her mind, Natasha crossed the hall and knocked lightly on Wanda's door. The soft rustle behind the door confirmed that Wanda's was still up, and after a moment, it cracked open.

"Natasha? Is everything okay?" Wanda’s eyes, still a little red, met hers, surprised but not displeased.

"Yeah, I-" Natasha scratched her neck. "I just want to check how you're settling in, if you need anything." She shrugged.

Wanda tilted her head, confusion all over her face but she stepped aside so Natasha could enter. She looked like she’d washed up too, hair damp, face scrubbed clean, but the sadness hadn’t left her eyes.

“I’m okay, considering everything, I guess.”

Natasha glanced around the room, knowing what she would find there; the plainness, the sparse, impersonal feel. She knew better than anyone how stark the compound felt to someone who wasn’t used to it, especially to someone grieving. Maybe she should take Wanda shopping, this way they could turn this cold room into something more like… home.

“I thought…” Natasha paused, weighing her words. “I thought maybe you’d like some company. The nights here can be pretty lonely.”

“I-” Wanda blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Natasha.”

Natasha did her best to ignore how her heart raced or how her stomach fluttered at the way Wanda said her name, with that heavy accent of hers and those big, enchanting, green eyes that seemed to see through her soul.

“Are you hungry? I can make something for us or we can order anything.” Natasha said, desperately wanting to change her thoughts to something else.

“I didn’t know you cook.”

“I know my way around the kitchen.” Natasha shrugged, trying her best to avoid Wanda’s inquiring eyes and the little grin on her lips. “C’mon, let’s see if there is anything we can put together as a meal or if the boys already eat it all.”

They left the room in silence, and Nat was glad that Wanda simply agreed. She could feel Wanda’s eyes roaming around the place as they walked through the corridors down to the kitchen.

“Of course you would be here.” Natasha teased as she saw Sam in the kitchen.

“Nat!” He smiled. “Oh, hi!” He said to Wanda. “I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Sam.”

“Hi, Sam.” She shook his hand. “I’m Wanda.”

“I’m sorry for your brother.”

“Thank you.”

Natasha watched the exchange in silence, attentive to Wanda’s reaction. She knew it could be overwhelming but she also knew that Sam was one of the most easy going among them all. It was easy to feel relaxed around him.

“So, is there anything to eat in this place or you and Steve have already finished everything?”

“Ouch.”

Natasha smiled and started going through the cabinets and the fridge in search of something to eat. “Hey, Wanda, how do you feel about mac and cheese?” She had no idea what Wanda liked but pretty much everyone she knew liked mac and cheese.

“I guess it’s okay.”

Natasha looked over her shoulder and offered a small grin to Wanda.

“I love mac and cheese.” Sam said, stuffing another bite of sandwich in his mouth.

“Aren’t you already eating?”

“I never say no to mac and cheese.”

Natasha only shook her head and grabbed everything she would need to put the meal together. She could feel Wanda’s eyes on her, curious, grateful and confused at the same time. It was a weird connection that she felt towards Wanda, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Hey, Sam, can you put the table, please?”

“Can I help?”

“Sure.” Nat smiled softly. “Sam, please, show her where everything is.”

Natasha watched them for a moment, and was grateful for how easy going Sam was. Maybe the fact that Wanda had not entered his mind was a plus for how good they were getting along but still.

"So when do we start training?" Sam asked as they ate.

"What training?" Wanda perked up.

“Fury wants Steve and I to train you guys, but I asked him for a few days so you can settle.” Natasha said. “Also you probably need new clothes and stuff.”

“Yeah, well, we destroyed my home to save the world, after all.”

Natasha sighed. She could feel all the mixed emotions in Wanda’s voice, and the worst part is that she was right. Of course, she would take the same decision over and over, but still.

After they ate, Wanda helped them to clean everything and excused herself back to her room. Natasha watched as she disappeared through the halls, not sure what to do next. Should she go after Wanda and actually make her some company or it was better to leave her alone for a while?

“So, I heard things were pretty rough for you guys there. Are you okay?”

For a second Natasha nearly jumped, but then she remembered Sam was still in the kitchen.

“Rough is an understatement but we’ll be okay.”

“She can really enter our minds…” Sam gestured vaguely.

“Yes, but I don’t think she’ll do this again unless it’s really needed.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I don’t know.” Natasha shrugged. “Maybe because I know what it is like to be in her position.”

“Fair enough.” Sam nodded. “Well, you should get some rest as well.”

“I will.”

(...)

Wanda closed the door behind her and let her body slide down to the ground. She pulled her legs up to her chest and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall down her face. Images of the last few hours played through her mind, over and over, as she tried to see what had gone wrong, how she could have let Pietro die, what she could have done, how she was all alone now; thrown into a country that wasn't hers, in a place surrounded by strangers. Strangers who she had hurt, in one way or another. Strangers who, despite having every right in the world, didn't seem angry with her.

Especially Natasha. She hadn't seen what memories it had awakened in her, when she entered her mind, but for some reason she didn't understand, Wanda could feel the weight of those memories, and she knew that it had affected Natasha deeply.

She wanted to apologize to Natasha for that, but she had no idea how to do it, and even less if it would be well received, even though Natasha had been nothing but kind to her since the walk to the compound. Wanda closed her eyes tightly and leaned her head against the door. Tears rolled down her face and sobs made their way to her throat, making her whole body shake.

In the space of just over twenty-four hours, she and Pietro went from villains to heroes, and that was how he died, but that was far from easing the pain, anger and sense of uselessness she felt at that moment. She couldn't even kill the person responsible for his death, since both Ultron and Strucker were already dead.

Wanda wished she could let her powers flow through her body, like she had done in the church, in Sokovia, but that wasn't possible here. She dug her nails into the fabric of the sweatpants, trying to control her powers and tried to focus her thoughts on something else, because she knew that if she kept thinking about Pietro she wouldn't be able to control her powers for much longer.

A flash of red hair and green eyes shone in her mind and then the memories of her brother were slowly being replaced by Natasha; the fight in the church was something that, despite the chaos of the moment, impressed Wanda, because unlike most of them Natasha didn't have special powers, nor special suits, she only relied on her skills, but that didn't make her less than them. She was relentless, precise, strong, and she still managed to be effortlessly attractive. Wanda opened her eyes, shocked by her own thoughts.

During all the years serving Hydra and with her mind focused on her revenge against Stark, Wanda never bothered to think about any kind of relationship, never even entertained the idea of getting involved with anyone, because honestly, who could she get involved with? Certainly not the men of Hydra. And among the citizens of Sokovia there was no one who really sparked her interest to the point of making her deviate from her target, from her revenge, but for some reason, ever since she had laid eyes on Natasha, that idea seemed to always be in the back of her mind, waiting to come to the surface.

"Wanda?"

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and she lifted her head, staring at the door.

"Wanda, is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"I- I'm fine." She swallowed hard at the sound of Natasha's voice. "Why?"

"Nothing, just checking."

Wanda narrowed her eyes and her thoughts began to race through her mind. Had Natasha somehow felt her powers almost going out of control? Or had it been something else? Wanda hoped it wasn't either of those options, but if it had to be either, she prayed it was the former. She sighed heavily and got up from the floor, running a hand through her hair before opening the door. "I'm okay, see?"

She felt a chill run down her spine at Natasha's piercing gaze, at how her eyes slowly studied her; her face, her body. She knew Natasha was looking for any reaction from her that would indicate the opposite of what she had said, and Wanda was aware that she wasn't very good at hiding her feelings, but after a moment Natasha just nodded and her expression relaxed, giving way to a soft smile.

"Very well."

"Do you want to come in?" Wanda found herself saying.

Wanda felt her heart race when Natasha just arched her eyebrows and smiled, entering her room without saying anything. She waited, fidgeting with the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing, while Natasha also seemed to be searching for words. From what little she had seen of Natasha, she seemed confident and determined, but standing there in the middle of her room with her arms crossed over her chest and biting her lip, Wanda realized there was much more beneath her tough surface.

"I was thinking we could go shopping tomorrow," Natasha said after a while. "Buy clothes and shoes and whatever else you need."

"Sure, I guess."

"Great, we'll leave after breakfast then."

Natasha smiled, and even though it was a genuine smile, Wanda could tell she was nervous.

"Okay."

"I'll be going then." Natasha gestured vaguely.

"Sleep well, Natasha."

"You too, Wanda." She stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder. "If you need anything, just knock on my door."

"Thanks."

As soon as the door closed behind Natasha, Wanda walked to the window and sat on the edge. The large glass window offered a breathtaking view of the compound and the vast greenery around it. She had no idea where the place was, but the view offered a certain calm to her turbulent thoughts, even more so after Natasha's visit.

Wanda couldn't quite understand why they, especially Natasha, were being nice to her after everything that had happened. Sure, Clint had said that from the moment she walked out that door she would become one of them, an Avenger, but she wasn't sure if everyone agreed with that. Especially Tony or Bruce, who happened to be missing. Possibly because of what she had done to his mind. She had seen the destruction the Hulk had caused, and it had been her fault, Wanda was fully aware of that. She knew he hated her, and if she was honest with herself, she expected that feeling from all of them, especially Tony and Natasha, who after Bruce, seemed to have been the most affected by her powers.

But since she had stepped onto the S.H.I.E.L.D. ship, Natasha had been nothing but kind to her, staying by her side and offering silent comfort as she cried over Pietro's body. Wanda felt the hot tears running down her cheeks again and decided that maybe it would be best to try to sleep, to get some rest. The day had been too long and she was too confused and tired to really think about anything. She just wanted to let herself be swallowed up by the pain of her brother's death.

(...)

Natasha stretched, every part of her body aching from the recent battles they had fought. Fighting against super sophisticated robots sucked. She groaned and sat up in bed, reaching for the bedside table in search of some pain medication. After taking the medication, Natasha got up and headed to the bathroom. A hot, relaxing shower would help.

As the hot water jet relaxed her muscles, Natasha thought about the day ahead; breakfast, then taking Wanda shopping and taking the opportunity to grab something to eat. After that she really didn't know what to do, as they had nothing planned for the next few days since everyone agreed that both Wanda and them needed a break.

Maybe she should take the opportunity to show Wanda some sights? But what exactly if Natasha didn't even know what she liked? She shook her head and focused on finishing the shower before the hot water ran out.

"Good morning, boys." Natasha said as she entered the kitchen and came face to face with Steve and Sam.

"Good morning, Nat." They smiled broadly.

"Steve made breakfast."

"Then I better grab something to eat on the way." Natasha joked, accepting the plate of eggs and bacon that Sam was pushing toward her. "Did Wanda come down for breakfast yet?"

"I'm here."

Natasha turned around, smiling broadly at the sound of Wanda's voice. "Hey." She took the plate that Sam had slid toward her and handed it to Wanda.

"Are you guys going somewhere?" Steve asked, looking between the two of them.

"I'm taking Wanda shopping, she needs clothes, girly stuff. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, okay." Sam and Steve answered together and they laughed at their expressions of slight panic and embarrassment.

After breakfast, Wanda and Natasha went up to their rooms to get ready and met in the living room.

Natasha led them to the compound's vast garage and went straight to her favorite Corvette Stingray.

"Wow, that's-"

She turned with a mischievous smile at Wanda's surprised tone.

"You haven't seen anything yet, get in." Natasha winked and got in the driver's side.

Natasha sped up, showing off a little and laughing at Wanda's expression. They left the compound towards the city and in a short time they were in downtown New York. She knew the crowds there could be overwhelming, but it was also good for distracting, especially in Wanda's state. Natasha drove the car to a neighborhood that concentrated most of the stores with clothes in the style she thought Wanda would like, because from the little she had the chance to observe her, Natasha doubted she cared about designer labels and renowned brands.

She was pleased to see that she was right about that, and before long the two of them were carrying enough bags that they had to make a trip to the car. At first Wanda was reluctant to accept Natasha paying for everything, but with some talking she managed to convince Wanda.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Natasha said as they loaded the last few bags into the car.

"I never knew shopping could make you so hungry."

"Right?" Natasha smiled. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

(...)

When they arrived back at the compound, they went straight to Wanda's room.

"So, did you have fun today?"

Natasha asked as she placed the bags next to her bed, and despite her tiredness, Wanda definitely felt a little lighter. Natasha's company was better than she could have imagined.

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you, Natasha."

"You're welcome."

Natasha winked playfully, or rather tried to, which caused Wanda to smile softly.

"I really mean it."

"I know."

Natasha's expression changed from playful to more serious, but it was still gentle and soft. Wanda felt her heart race at the understanding she saw in Natasha's gaze, and she really couldn't comprehend how that was possible.

"Hey, talk to me."

Wanda felt like a thousand butterflies were flying inside her when Natasha took a step towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her voice was soft and concerned, as was her gaze, and it left Wanda dizzy.

"I- I just- I don't understand why you, of all people, have been so kind to me."

Natasha smiled, and shook her head slightly. Her red hair falling slightly into her eyes. "Remember what Clint told you? It doesn't matter what you did, or who you were."

"Still." Wanda held her gaze. "I haven't seen the things I put you through, but I could feel the weight of the visions I caused you and it's overwhelming."

"You're right, it is overwhelming, but I've dealt with it once and I'll deal with it again." Natasha said gently. "My past is ugly and red, for the most part, but I got a second chance when I met Clint. And although your powers have brought up memories I would rather have remained buried deep inside, I refuse to let it dominate me."

Wanda wanted to ask, wanted to know about Natasha's past, the good and the bad. For some reason she didn't yet understand, she wanted to know every piece of that mysterious woman, but she knew it wasn't the time, and that if Natasha wanted, she would share of her own free will.

Natasha was so strong, so resilient. Wanda wanted to be a little like her, but most of the time she felt like she was drowning.

"How do you do it?" Wanda asked, her lips trembling slightly.

"How do I do what?" Natasha frowned.

"How do you stay so strong?"

Natasha chuckled and shook her head. "Do you think I'm strong?" Gently she took Wanda's hand and guided her to the edge of the bed. "I'm far from strong, but there are specific people I choose to show my vulnerability to."

Wanda nodded absently, too overwhelmed by all the things she was feeling at that moment. "Still, it's more than I can be right now," She said after a moment. "I feel like this wave washes over me, again and again. It knocks me down, and when I try to stand up, it just comes for me again and it’s just gonna drown me."

"Grief is a day-to-day process," Natasha said gently. "It's something that lasts a lifetime, I think."

Wanda noticed Natasha's gaze grow distant, and she wondered who she had lost.

"Grief, the worst of it, hits us when we least expect it. At first, we think that the loss of the person we love is something that will crush us, that pain in our chest, the feeling of numbness, the lack of will to do anything, but then all of that starts to become less and less and we move on with life. Until one day, something simple brings it all back, a thousand times worse."

Natasha used the back of her free hand to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall, and Wanda wished she could do it for her.

"The worst part of grief, of missing the person, is not the beginning. It's one day when you're doing something and you think 'he would like that.' or you see something on TV, hear a song, or anything really, and you immediately think of that person, you want to share it with them and they're not there. It never gets easier, but at least for me, grief comes from a place of love. It's a love that endures."

"You lost someone."

Wanda found herself saying. It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Natasha looked at her for a moment before nodding.

"I know how you feel, and that's why I want you to know that you're not alone, okay?"

Wanda knew Natasha wouldn't go into details now, after all, they barely knew each other. She had been incredibly kind, but Wanda knew there were limits for now. And she was okay with that.

"Thank you, Natasha."

"Anytime."

(...)

As the days went by, things started to fall into place and return to a sense of normalcy. The new members' training began, and it was going better than Steve or Natasha had expected.

At first, Wanda had a little difficulty with the physical part of the training, the hours in the gym doing exercises and physical fights - usually with Natasha - but in a few weeks she got the hang of it.

Little by little they started doing some simple missions to see how the new members were performing, how they controlled their abilities and everything else, and both Sam and Wanda were doing very well.

Tony hardly showed up at the compound, which was a relief for Wanda. Natasha taught her how to drive, in addition to the Avenger training, but she still didn't feel comfortable driving around.

Thanksgiving was celebrated simply, just Wanda, Natasha, and Steve at the compound, although Clint had insisted that they go to the farm. Sam had spent the holiday with his sister and nephews.

The week before Christmas, Natasha finally gave in to Clint's insistence and agreed to go to the farm. She had convinced Wanda to go with her, also at Clint's insistence, and since he didn't want her to be alone at the compound.

They stopped in town to buy Christmas presents for the Bartons and from there they left for the farm.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to spend Christmas with you guys?" Wanda asked again.

Nat smiled, glancing sideways at her, not really taking her eyes off the road. She could feel the nervousness rolling off Wanda in waves.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Yeah, Clint's sure too."

"Okay." Wanda said absently, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt.

When Natasha parked near the main house, she barely had time to unbuckle her seatbelt before Lila was already running toward her, her small feet kicking up dirt and snow on the gravel path.

"Auntie Nat!"

Without hesitation, Natasha swung open the door and stepped out, instantly lifting the little girl into her arms. Lila's small body melted against her, and Natasha couldn't help but smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Ouch, you've gotten big, kiddo."

Lila giggled and wrapped her arms around Natasha’s neck, her cheek against Natasha's.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at Wanda, who was still standing on the other side of the car, a little more reserved but watching them with a quiet smile. Natasha gave a subtle nod, inviting her closer.

"Lila, this is my friend Wanda," Natasha said gently, keeping her hold on the girl. "Say 'hi' to Wanda."

Lila pulled back slightly, giving Wanda a curious look before offering a shy but warm smile. "Hi."

The greeting was simple, but there was an undeniable softness in Lila’s voice, like she instinctively knew Wanda was someone safe.

"Hi, Lila."

There was something almost maternal in the way she spoke to the little girl, a tenderness Natasha hadn’t quite expected, but welcomed.

Before Natasha could say anything else, Lila tucked her face into her neck, her small arms tightening around her.

Natasha laughed quietly, and just then, a familiar voice broke through the moment. "Well, look who decided to show up!"

Natasha turned, smiling brightly at the sight of Laura standing on the porch with little Nathaniel in her arms, his eyes wide and curious as he stared at the newcomers.

"Hey, Laura," Natasha grinned, shifting Lila just slightly so she could wave.

Laura’s grin was warm, and her eyes were sparking with amusement. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten the way out here."

"Never," Natasha replied, her smile softening as she looked at the family she'd come to care for so much.

They approached the porch and Natasha set Lila down. Laura sent the little girl to get Clint and Cooper, who were in the barn tinkering with the old tractor.

Natasha wagged her fingers at Nathaniel, who immediately reached forward.

"Oh, look at you, all soft with kids. Who would have thought," Wanda said, but there was no malice in her voice, just genuine surprise.

Natasha felt her cheeks immediately flush. Even though she and Wanda had grown quite close since the events in Sokovia, this was the first time she had seen her outside the compound, so carefree and somehow vulnerable.

Natasha had told Wanda bits and pieces about her bond with Clint’s family, about the kids, but this was the first time Wanda had witnessed it firsthand. The surprise was there, quiet but clear.

"Oh, Nat here is such a softie," Laura teased.

Natasha lifted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she shot Laura a look. "Traitor," she muttered under her breath.

Laura just grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "What? It's true."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curled up despite herself. She’d always tried to keep her distance, maintain the tough exterior, but the Barton’s were more her family than she would ever admit out loud because saying it out loud would make it real and she couldn’t afford to lose another family.

Natasha met Wanda’s gaze, and held it for a moment. The way Wanda was looking at her made her feel things she never thought possible. Not with her past. She heard Lila’s and Cooper laughter as they approached them and this seemed to break the moment between them.

“I have my moments,” Natasha said with a small, playful smile.

"Nat! Wanda!"

Clint's voice made them turn and Natasha smiled widely. His eyes were shining with mischief and he glanced between her and Wanda with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him, but Clint didn't even flinch.

"I'm glad you decided to join us." He hugged her tightly, and then hugged Wanda. "Let's go inside, it's getting cold fast."

Natasha smiled, feeling her heart warm at the ease of Clint's relationship with Wanda. It was as if he had taken on the role of big brother, mentor, or whatever it was he did, and it worked well. She noticed how the tension was slowly leaving Wanda's shoulders.

The inside of the house was warm and inviting; the fireplace was lit and there were a few toys scattered on the floor, papers and crayons spread out on the coffee table, a bottle, a baby blanket, and some half-eaten gingerbread cookies on a plate.

As they stepped inside, the warmth of the Barton’s home wrapped around Natasha and Wanda, bringing with it the scent of wood smoke, fresh pine, and something cinnamon-sweet baking in the kitchen. Wanda glanced around, a quiet curiosity softening her usual guarded expression. It was a side of her Natasha rarely saw; calm, open, almost like she was letting her guard down bit by bit.

Natasha caught her gaze lingering on the family photos lining the walls. Each picture told a story: Clint and Laura on their wedding day, Clint and Cooper covered in mud from some backyard project, Lila in a princess dress with a bright, toothy smile. Natasha nudged Wanda gently, pulling her out of her trance.

“Welcome to the chaos,” Natasha murmured with a soft smirk.

Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes still tracing over the photographs. “It’s…nice. Feels like home.”

Before Natasha could say anything, Clint reappeared with Cooper and Lila racing behind him, already caught up in some sibling rivalry and ran towards the kitchen, returning a second later. Cooper was carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, which Natasha was pretty sure Laura had spiked with vodka or whiskey.

"Mom said to give them to you guys, it'll help ward off the cold."

"She said, huh?" Natasha accepted the mugs and handed one to Wanda.

She ruffled Cooper's hair and he clung to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Natasha's smile softened and widened, and her gaze met Laura's over the boy's head. "Thanks." She lifted the mug slightly to Laura, who did the same from the kitchen.

Cooper beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. Lila, never one to be outdone, immediately tugged at Natasha’s sleeve. “Auntie Nat, we made cookies for you!” She pointed proudly toward the kitchen, where Laura was pulling a fresh tray from the oven, the scent filling the entire room.

“Oh, you did, huh?” Lila nodded enthusiastically, running back into the kitchen and rocking back on her heels as Laura placed the cookies on a plate.

Clint appeared beside them, smiling proudly as he watched his children. He looked from Natasha to Wanda and smirked.

“Think you can handle that, Maximoff?”

Natasha snorted, a rare, carefree sound that seemed to make Wanda’s eyes brighten with curiosity, as if she wanted to hear it again and it made her heart skip some beats. Clint took that as his cue to clap his hands and rally everyone.

"Alright, alright, movie time! We need your votes: are we going classic Christmas, or one of those superhero movies Cooper keeps insisting are 'totally holiday-appropriate'?"

Natasha laughed, shaking her head. "Classic, definitely. I think we've all seen enough superheroes for now." There was a flicker of amusement on Wanda's face, something Natasha rarely saw.

The group made their way to the living room, where Laura had already transformed the space with blankets and pillows spread across couches and the floor. Lila made a beeline for Natasha, curling up beside her and resting her head on Natasha's shoulder as they settled in. Meanwhile, Cooper took the seat next to Wanda, stealing occasional glances her way as if she were something magical and rare and Natasha couldn't help but smile.

Once the movie started, the room grew quiet, the atmosphere softened by the flickering firelight and the comforting sounds of popcorn crunching. Wanda, sitting beside Natasha, seemed to lose some of her usual guarded tension, taking in the warmth of the room and this feeling of belonging that wrapped around them. Natasha felt Wanda’s shoulder brush hers lightly, the simple touch filling the space with an unexpected sense of peace that lingered between them as they watched the screen together.

(...)

The morning broke crisp and bright, sunlight gleaming off the fresh layer of snow that blanketed the Barton farm. Natasha was savoring her first sip of coffee when Lila and Cooper burst into the kitchen, voices ringing with excitement.

"Auntie Nat! Wanda! It snowed!" Lila squealed, her eyes wide with delight.

Natasha barely had a chance to respond before Cooper tugged on her sleeve. "You have to come out with us! It's perfect for sledding, or snowball fights, or building snow forts!"

Natasha opened her mouth, but Lila had already grabbed Wanda's hand, pulling her toward the door. "You can't say no. It's a rule!"

Wanda cast a helpless, amused glance at Natasha, wrapped up in Lila's enthusiasm. Natasha rolled her eyes, smothering a smile. "Alright, alright. Just bundle up. It's freezing out there."

Soon enough, they were trudging through the snow, boots crunching over the fresh powder as Cooper and Lila ran ahead, their laughter echoing across the fields. Natasha watched them, taking in the simple joy on their faces as they dashed ahead, caught up in the magic of the snowy morning.

Cooper sprinted ahead, immediately scooping up snow and forming snowballs in his gloved hands, while Wanda knelt down to help Lila pack the snow. Natasha noticed the way Wanda's face softened, absorbed in the task, her gloved fingers shaping smooth snowballs with surprising concentration. It wasn't often that Wanda allowed herself to let go like this, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile as she watched her friend so fully in the moment, mirroring Lila's delight.

"Nat!" Cooper called, pulling her from her thoughts.

His mischievous grin was a warning she caught just a second too late as a snowball flew through the air, hitting her square on the shoulder. Shaking her head with a chuckle, Natasha crouched down to form her own snowball.

"Oh, you're in for it now, Barton!" she called, tossing a snowball that landed perfectly on Cooper's back. He laughed, dodging behind a tree for cover, the game fully underway.

Natasha caught a glimpse of Wanda watching them, her eyes bright as she observed Natasha's rare carefree moment with the kids. Wanda's gaze held something soft and warm, an expression that Natasha couldn't help but feel a hint of pride in causing.

A small tug on her sleeve brought Natasha's focus to Lila, whose hands were attempting to form a snowball, her face lit up with mischief. Natasha smirked, joining in the playful plotting as she began packing another snowball, catching sight of Wanda doing the same.

Natasha's gaze sharpened the moment she noticed Wanda's smirk and the playful glint in her eye. Wanda narrowed her focus on Natasha, packing the snowball deliberately, and a thrill ran through Natasha, settling as a faint, unexpected chill down her spine. Her usual poise wavered, replaced by a surprising spark of anticipation at Wanda's challenge.

"Don't even think about it, Maximoff," Natasha warned, raising an eyebrow and taking a cautious step back, though she found herself almost wanting Wanda to ignore the warning.

"Oh, I'm thinking about it," Wanda replied, her smirk deepening.

Before Natasha could fully prepare, the snowball was already flying toward her, hitting her shoulder in a burst of cold powder that scattered through the air. Natasha laughed, a touch breathless, her heart pounding with the exhilaration of the moment.

For a second, she caught Wanda's gaze and felt her stomach flip. The teasing glint in her eyes felt like something more, something that Natasha didn't often feel; the thrill of letting her guard down, of giving in with someone she trusted.

Natasha laughed, and before Wanda could blink, she scooped up her own handful of snow, sending it flying in a perfect arc that landed squarely on Wanda's chest.

Wanda's laughter rang out across the open field, a sound so pure and unrestrained that Natasha felt herself pause, caught up in the warmth of it. A smile crept onto her face as she watched Wanda, taking in the sparkle of her eyes and the rare openness of her expression.

"Is that all you've got, Romanoff?" Wanda challenged, shaking the snow from her jacket and stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Natasha grinned, feeling her competitive side flare. "You really don't want to start a snow war with a spy."

"Oh?" Wanda arched an eyebrow, her smile widening, clearly calling Natasha's bluff.

That spark of challenge between them sent a thrill through Natasha, and she barely had time to react before they were fully immersed in a whirlwind of snowballs, laughter, and scrambling feet as they dodged and ducked around trees and snow piles.

Lila and Cooper joined in, adding to the chaos, and Natasha found herself caught off-guard more than once by their surprisingly accurate snow missiles. Somewhere in the madness, Cooper slipped, tumbling into the snow and sending Natasha down with him in a playful heap. She barely had time to process it before Wanda rushed over, laughter bubbling up as she offered her hand to Natasha only for Natasha to grin mischievously and pull Wanda down beside her, both of them collapsing into the snow with laughter echoing around them.

After a while, breathless and cheeks tinged pink from the cold, they lay back in the snow, gazing up at the pale blue sky as they caught their breath. Natasha listened to the sound of Wanda's breathing beside her, feeling strangely at ease. She glanced over, taking in the peaceful expression on Wanda's face, her closed eyes and faint smile.

"I think they wore us out," Natasha murmured, an amused warmth in her voice.

Wanda's smile grew, her eyes still closed. "I think I'll let them take the blame," she replied softly, her voice carrying a note of contentment that Natasha couldn't remember hearing before.

Lila and Cooper shared a victorious grin, scrambling to their feet and running toward the house with eager cries of "Hot chocolate time!" Lila shot, already halfway to the door.

As Natasha and Wanda got up, brushing the snow from their coats, Natasha noticed the way Wanda's gaze lingered on her, her eyes shining with a rare, easy happiness. She looked back at Wanda, feeling a strange but undeniable closeness.

"Thanks for indulging them," Natasha said, her voice warm and genuine. "It's been… nice, seeing you like this."

Wanda's smile softened, her eyes meeting Natasha's for a long moment. "I think it's been nice for me, too."

They walked back to the house together, snow clinging to their coats and boots, the quiet warmth of the moment stretching between them.

As they stepped into the living room, Laura took one look at them and shook her head with a knowing smile. "Alright, go take a hot shower and change your clothes. All of you," she added, giving both Natasha and Wanda a firm look.

They followed the kids upstairs, exchanging a bemused glance as they headed to freshen up. By the time they gathered in the kitchen, Laura had laid out steaming mugs of hot cocoa with fluffy marshmallows on top, the room warmed by the crackling fire.

As the afternoon slipped into evening, Clint suggested a round of Christmas movies, and soon the living room was bathed in the soft glow of twinkling lights and the warm flicker of the fire. Natasha settled in, feeling Wanda close beside her, sharing this quiet, festive peace as the day faded into a cozy night.

(...)

Wanda settled in next to Natasha on the couch, her side pressed warmly against Natasha's. Cooper snuggled up on Natasha's other side, while Lila, still a bit drowsy from the day's excitement, climbed onto Natasha's lap, wrapping herself up in her arms with a soft yawn. Wanda watched, her gaze softening at the sight. There was a gentleness in Natasha's movements, a tenderness Wanda rarely saw so openly, one that seemed to emerge only with this family.

On the other couch, Laura and Clint shared a quiet moment, with the baby nestled between them. Wanda's attention, however, remained fixed on Natasha. She felt something warm and deeply tender as she watched Natasha gently run her hand through Lila's hair, soothing her with a care that felt uncharacteristic but entirely genuine. It was as if each touch allowed Natasha to step into a peace that Wanda knew was rarely hers.

After a moment, Wanda leaned closer, her voice a soft murmur. "You’re good with her, you know."

Natasha glanced over, caught off guard but pleased by the comment. "I guess she brings out a different side of me."

Wanda smiled, her expression gentle. "I think it's just you. The real you."

Natasha didn't respond with words, but the way her eyes held Wanda’s gaze for an extra beat was more than enough. It was a vulnerable silence that said everything, and when Natasha finally looked away, Wanda felt a pang of both gratitude and sadness. She realized how much Natasha kept hidden, even from herself.

As the movie played, Wanda's attention drifted, returning again and again to the sight of Natasha with Lila asleep in her lap. She saw something rare there, a quiet hope in Natasha's eyes, a contentment that was so precious it took Wanda's breath away. Wanda's heart raced as unexpected thoughts of a family - a real, lasting family - entered her mind, not just for herself, but with Natasha.

Her chest tightened as she remembered a night at the compound, sitting out on the lawn with Natasha under the stars. Natasha had shared parts of herself that night, things Wanda hadn't known before. Stories of her childhood, of Yelena, her younger sister, who she hadn't seen in years; of a song that haunted her because of what it reminded her of; and of the cruelty of the Red Room that had stolen her chance to ever have biological children. Wanda knew she could never erase those scars or the memories Natasha carried. But she wished, with everything in her, that she could show Natasha that it was still possible to have a family - that maybe, together, they could build one.

(...)

The next morning, Natasha was jolted awake by a small whirlwind named Lila, who came barreling into the room she was sharing with Wanda, flinging herself right onto Natasha’s bed.

“Ouch,” Natasha groaned, her voice still thick with sleep. She wrapped an arm around Lila, pulling her down beside her. “Too early, kiddo.”

“Auntie Nat, we’re going to make gingerbread houses!” Lila’s excitement was infectious, and her eyes sparkled with it.

“Oh, God.” Natasha muttered, suddenly recalling all of Clint’s endless Christmas traditions. She had almost forgotten how many they packed into the days before Christmas.

“Come on, Auntie Nat. Mommy’s waiting!” Lila urged, tugging at her arm insistently.

Natasha sighed and finally blinked her eyes open, realizing there was no way she’d be able to coax a few more minutes of sleep. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.” She pressed a quick kiss to Lila’s forehead before reluctantly getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

When she emerged, she noticed Lila had now cozied up in Wanda’s bed, eagerly chatting to her about gingerbread houses. Wanda’s gaze met Natasha’s, warm and amused, and Natasha offered a sheepish smile in return.

“Good morning, Nat,” Wanda greeted as she stood up and made her way to the bathroom.

“Morning.” Natasha felt her cheeks warm slightly. “Sorry about the... wake-up call,” she said, nodding toward Lila, who was watching them with open curiosity.

Wanda smiled, shrugging off the apology. “No problem.”

“Auntie Nat, come on!” Lila tugged insistently, and Natasha allowed herself to be pulled down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Once there, Laura greeted her with a guilty smile. “I swear I tried to hold her off for another hour.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Natasha assured her, stifling a yawn as she adjusted to the early hour.

“Here.” Clint appeared at her side, handing her a mug of steaming coffee. “Where’s Wanda? Still sleeping?”

“As if that was an option,” Natasha laughed, taking a grateful sip. She felt herself starting to wake up with each sip of the hot coffee.

A few minutes later, Wanda joined them, looking just as cozy and a little more awake. Natasha quickly poured her a mug of coffee, handing it to her with a smile. The kitchen was soon alive with the clattering of dishes and the laughter of kids, as they gathered the supplies to start their gingerbread creations.

While everyone else was busy assembling pieces and attempting not to eat half of the icing, Clint took charge of breakfast. The warm aroma of eggs, bacon, and pancakes mingled with the rich smell of coffee and fresh juice, filling the kitchen with a cozy warmth.

“Alright, construction break for breakfast!” Clint called, setting plates down and wiping his hands on a dish towel.

The kids practically inhaled the food, barely pausing to chew as they wolfed down their breakfast, eager to get back to their creations. Natasha exchanged an amused look with Laura as Clint went about clearing the table, and Laura quickly reset the gingerbread supplies so the kids could dive back in.

Natasha couldn’t help but glance at Wanda over the top of her coffee mug, catching her eye with a soft smile. It felt good to be here, in this warm little chaos, sharing these small moments - moments that felt almost like they belonged to a family. And as Wanda smiled back, Natasha felt a warmth that went deeper than the coffee she was holding.

Natasha and Wanda joined Laura and the kids at the table, where bowls of vibrant icing and candy decorations waited to be used. Natasha settled into the task, carefully piping a line of frosting along a gingerbread wall, but her attention kept drifting to Wanda, who was completely absorbed in her work. Wanda's brows furrowed in concentration as she placed gumdrops in precise rows, oblivious to everything else.

A small smirk tugged at Natasha’s lips. “You’re really into this,” she murmured, leaning in just enough to tease.

Wanda looked up, her cheeks instantly flushing, and Natasha's smirk softened into a grin.

After a while, the table became a delightful mess of scattered sugar, crumbs, and half-eaten gumdrops. Flour hung in the air like a soft cloud as the kids’ laughter echoed through the room. Lila proudly held up her sticky, icing-coated fingers, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, Auntie Nat! I made a mess!”

Natasha chuckled, gently ruffling Lila’s hair. “That’s the best part of it, kiddo.”

Laura’s laughter caught Natasha’s attention, and she glanced over, confused, only to see Laura motioning toward her own cheek. “Nat, you’ve got a little something…” Laura gestured vaguely at her own face.

Before Natasha could react, Wanda noticed it too and reached over instinctively, her thumb brushing softly against Natasha's cheek as she wiped the flour away. The touch lingered a second longer than necessary, and Natasha found herself frozen, her eyes meeting Wanda’s. Her gaze drifted to Wanda's lips, and for a moment, her breath stilled as they both seemed to forget the world around them.

“Uh… there,” Wanda murmured, her voice barely a whisper, her cheeks flushing as she finally pulled her hand away.

Just then, a shriek of laughter brought them back to reality. Natasha turned to see that Cooper and Lila had somehow managed to shower each other with a handful of flour, their hair now dusted white. Natasha let out a soft laugh, glancing back at Wanda with an amused smirk. “Looks like we’re going to have to clean up after these two troublemakers.”

“Oh, no, you two,” Laura cut in, her own laugh barely contained. “Clint, take your kids to the bath now. They’re done here.”

“Oh, so when they’re covered in flour, they’re my kids?” Clint shot back, shaking his head.

“Mom, we promise to behave!” Cooper added, pulling his best puppy-dog eyes.

Natasha chuckled as Laura shot her a knowing look. “I wonder who he learned that from,” Laura teased, aiming a pointed look at Natasha. “Alright, but if there’s one more mess, it’s over for both of you.”

Cooper and Lila exchanged triumphant high-fives and went back to decorating their gingerbread houses with renewed focus.

Laura shook her head, glancing at Clint. “Clint, dear, can you give Nathaniel his bottle?”

“On it.” He wiped his hands on his apron, going off to prepare the bottle.

The warmth of the moment lingered as they all continued decorating, laughter filling the air along with the sweet scent of gingerbread. Natasha couldn’t help but steal glances at Wanda every now and then, her heart softening at the way Wanda’s face lit up with laughter around the kids. For the first time in what felt like ages, Natasha felt… at peace. Something about this felt wonderfully right, and she couldn’t shake the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, she could belong have this too.

(...)

The rest of the day was peaceful, Cooper went to help Clint work on the tractor so he wouldn't end up getting into trouble because of the cold while Wanda and Natasha were dragged to the living room by Lila.

The little girl handed them some sheets of paper, colored pencils and crayons and with a pointed look indicated that they should sit next to her to draw.

Laura joined them soon after, gently rocking Nathaniel to sleep.

The hours passed quickly and in the early evening they sat at the table for dinner. Then, as in the previous days, they gathered in the living room for another classic Christmas movie.

Clint helped Laura carry the bowls of popcorn, mugs of hot chocolate and cider into the living room while Natasha and Wanda helped Lila and Cooper get the room just the way they liked it.

Cooper slurped his hot cocoa loudly, prompting a chorus of giggles from Lila and a roll of Clint's eyes. "Seriously, kid, where are your manners?"

"I learned them from you," Cooper shot back with a grin.

Wanda chuckled, her eyes meeting Natasha's for a second. She felt her heart race and her stomach felt like as if there was butterflies inside. She hadn't realized just how much she missed this feeling; being part of something whole, something good. She was so lost in thought that she nearly missed it when Natasha squeezed her hand, the smallest reassurance, and her eyes met Natasha's, catching that familiar glint of mischief in her gaze.

"Want to help me with a refill?" Natasha whispered, giving Wanda's hand a gentle tug as she rose.

"Sure." Wanda followed her into the kitchen, away from the cozy chaos of the living room.

Once they were out of earshot, Natasha leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Are you okay? I thought you were a little overwhelmed just now." She said, her eyes studying Wanda with concern.

"I'm fine, Nat. Thanks for caring tho."

"Really? We can call it a night and go to the bedroom if you want."

"I do feel overwhelmed sometimes, yes, but in a... good way, I guess."

"Okay, let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

"Alright."

Natasha held Wanda's gaze for longer than necessary.

"Is it weird that I never expected you to be so…" Wanda searched for the right word, one that would capture the side of Natasha she'd been witnessing those past days; soft, unguarded, even playful.

"Human?" Natasha offered, her smile crooked, playful but with an edge of vulnerability.

"Real," Wanda corrected softly. "I mean, ever since I arrived at the compound you've been amazing to me, always around, worried about me, and you've shared more things with me than I ever thought possible, but at the same time you've always remained a little distant, reserved. It’s nice to see this side of you."

Natasha felt her smirk dissolve into something softer, her expression turning reflective as she glanced down, weighing her words. “I didn’t think you’d want to see this side of me.” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, a hint of uncertainty in it, as if she wasn’t used to admitting something so vulnerable aloud.

Wanda took a small step closer, and Natasha noticed the way her gaze softened, her own walls beginning to crumble. “Actually,” Wanda murmured, her voice steady yet gentle, “I think this is exactly what I needed to see.”

Natasha held Wanda’s gaze, feeling a tangible connection that had simmered for too long, something raw and undeniable surfacing between them. Away from missions and façades, it felt real here. For once, there was no armor, just them. The sounds of laughter drifting in from the living room barely registered in her mind; she wasn’t ready to let go of this moment yet.

She let out a soft laugh, one that felt vulnerable even to her own ears. “This might sound ridiculous, but… thanks for being here. I didn’t know if you’d actually come.”

“I almost didn’t,” Wanda admitted, her voice just above a whisper, an honest softness in her eyes. “But I’m glad I did.”

They stood there in the silence that followed, Natasha unable to resist lifting her hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear. The gesture was gentle, lingering in a way she hadn’t anticipated, as if savoring the tenderness of the moment. Her pulse raced at the touch, especially when Wanda’s eyes widened slightly, and Natasha felt a warmth spreading in her chest that had nothing to do with the cider.

But the spell was broken when the kitchen door swung open, and Clint waltzed in, oblivious to the tension he’d interrupted. “Hey, you two, you’re missing the best part! Santa’s about to-” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing between them and scratching his chin. “Am I… interrupting something?”

Natasha cleared her throat, quickly dropping her hand, her laugh coming out just a bit too casual. “Nope, just… catching up.”

Wanda looked away, her cheeks flushed, clearly trying to hide the faint blush creeping up. Clint just grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, then. Don’t take too long; we’ve got more popcorn waiting.” With a wink, he disappeared back into the living room.

Natasha huffed, shaking her head as she muttered, “He’s like a big kid sometimes.”

They filled their mugs with fresh cider and made their way back to the others. When they settled back onto the couch, Natasha found herself instinctively draping her arm over the back of the couch, her hand resting just behind Wanda’s shoulders—a gesture that felt casual, but in truth held an unspoken promise of protectiveness. Wanda leaned back slightly, just close enough that Natasha could feel her warmth, her pulse quickening at the sensation, and for once, Natasha let herself enjoy the comfort of their closeness.

As the movie drew to a close, Natasha watched as Laura smoothly began herding the kids toward bed, Lila putting up a sleepy protest. Natasha leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss on Lila’s forehead and speaking softly, “I’ll be here in the morning, okay? Go get some sleep.”

Once the kids were tucked in, Clint and Laura returned to the living room with the kind of satisfied sighs that come with a quiet, winding-down evening. The room had dimmed, leaving only the soft golden glow of the fire casting shadows across their faces.

“How’s training been, Wanda?” Laura asked, curiosity evident in her tone as she wrapped her hands around her mug. “Nat’s been saying you’re really getting the hang of things.”

Natasha felt warmth in her chest as Wanda glanced over at her, a little shy, as though gauging her reaction. “It’s… intense, but in a good way, I think,” Wanda replied thoughtfully. “I��m learning more about focus, and it’s been helping a lot.”

Natasha couldn’t hold back, giving Wanda’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “She’s being modest,” she chimed in, pride evident in her voice. “You’ve come a long way. Pretty soon, you’ll have Rogers eating your dust.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. “Really? That’s high praise coming from Romanoff.” He nodded at Wanda, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re tougher than you look, huh?”

Natasha watched Wanda chuckle, a quiet warmth filling her gaze as she took in Natasha’s words. “I have a good teacher. Besides, it’s nice to have something to work toward. Keeps me grounded,” she said with a confidence that had been growing steadily over the past weeks.

Laura’s expression softened as she looked at Wanda. “Well, it’s good to hear. And I have to say, you’ve seemed so much happier lately. I’d say it’s working for you.” She winked at Wanda before her gaze drifted to Natasha, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I think Nat might have a little something to do with that too.”

Natasha could feel a slight blush warming her cheeks, but she rolled her eyes playfully. “Let’s not give me too much credit. Wanda’s the one putting in the work. I’m just… there when she needs a little push.”

“Oh, you’re there alright,” Clint teased, his eyes glinting with amusement as he shared a look with Laura. “Can’t say I’ve seen you this dedicated to ‘pushing’ someone, Nat.”

Natasha chuckled, relaxing into the gentle teasing as Wanda turned to her with a playful glint in her eyes. “To be fair, you’re a pretty great ‘pusher,’” Wanda teased, nudging Natasha’s shoulder lightly.

“Well,” Natasha replied, letting out a soft laugh, “if I’m going to be a pusher, might as well be the best, right?” She held Wanda’s gaze, her smile turning softer, her voice lowering. “But you make it easy.”

The glow of the fire reflected in Wanda’s eyes, and Natasha found herself lost in their warmth until Clint cleared his throat with exaggerated volume. “Alright, lovebirds,” he said, grinning. “Are we just going to sit here staring into each other’s eyes, or can I get someone to help me with the marshmallows for s’mores?”

Laura laughed, swatting him playfully. “Way to kill the vibe, Clint. But yes, let’s do s’mores.”

Natasha watched Wanda grin as she rose, her eyes dancing. “I’ll help you grab the marshmallows, Clint. Natasha, you coming?”

Natasha leaned back against the couch, smirking up at Wanda with an affectionate, mischievous smile. “I’ll be right here, keeping your seat warm. Don’t take too long.”

She caught the slight flush of Wanda’s cheeks and the smile they shared before Wanda headed to the kitchen with Clint, their laughter trailing into the next room. Natasha couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in her chest at the sound.

Laura shook her head, a fond smile on her face as she watched them go before she turned to Natasha, eyes full of quiet understanding. “You know,” she began softly, “you and Wanda… you make sense together.”

Natasha felt her breath hitch, her gaze drifting to the kitchen where Wanda’s laughter still echoed. “We’re not… we’re not—”

“Nat,” Laura said gently, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But I’ve seen the way you look at each other. I’ve never seen you like this with anyone.”

Natasha swallowed, feeling a confession clawing its way to the surface, something she’d tried to suppress. “It’s stupid, Laura. Letting my guard down like this… but I can’t help it with her.”

Laura’s voice was soft, reassuring. “It’s not stupid, Nat.”

“But you know my past.” Natasha’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’s no way I could ever have something… normal.”

“Good thing Wanda’s far from normal, isn’t she?” Laura said with a gentle smile, her eyes warm with understanding.

Natasha shook her head, her voice strained. “It wouldn’t work.”

Laura sighed, giving Natasha a knowing, patient look. “Just… think about it, okay?”

(...)

As the others drifted off to bed, Natasha stayed behind, lingering in the quiet with Wanda beside her. Their shoulders brushed as they sat on the couch, the firelight casting warm, flickering shadows over the room. Natasha could feel the heat radiating from Wanda’s hand, resting so close to hers, close enough that the small distance between them felt charged.

Without fully deciding to, Natasha found herself leaning closer. The weight of everything unspoken, everything she’d tried to ignore, pressed heavily on her chest. She could feel the warmth of Wanda’s presence, the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing.

"Wanda," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, the word heavy with so much she didn’t know how to express. "You… you make me feel—" She faltered, uncertain. No words felt right, no way to truly say what was pounding in her chest.

But Wanda’s eyes softened, her gaze unwavering, silently urging Natasha to let down the last of her walls. It was an invitation, one that Natasha didn’t realize she’d been waiting for until she was already leaning in. Before doubt could take over, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Wanda’s in a gentle brush. But that initial softness, that tentative touch, was quickly replaced by a heat Natasha could no longer deny.

Wanda responded without hesitation, her hand sliding up to Natasha’s cheek, her thumb tracing a slow, steady path along her jaw. That small gesture undid her completely, and Natasha felt herself deepen the kiss, a barely controlled need taking over as their lips moved in sync, more intense, more consuming than she’d imagined. The fire crackled beside them, but it was nothing compared to the heat that spread through her body, lighting up every nerve, every cell.

It was everything Natasha had wanted and everything she’d been afraid of—a connection that was raw, fierce, and unguarded. Wanda’s hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, her fingers threading through Natasha’s hair, and the intensity of it, the sheer honesty of what she was feeling, made something inside Natasha twist.

Abruptly, she pulled back, breaking the kiss with a shuddering breath. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, her heart hammering against her ribcage, a familiar panic clawing its way to the surface. She felt like she was splintering apart, the weight of her past pressing down on her, reminding her of all the reasons she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be feeling this.

“Nat?” Wanda’s voice was soft, laced with concern and something deeper that Natasha wasn’t sure she could handle. That depth, that vulnerability, only made the fear sharper.

“I- I can’t,” Natasha managed, her voice shaky and barely audible. She pushed herself to her feet, running a hand through her hair in a desperate attempt to steady herself. She could feel everything slipping out of her control, every carefully built wall crumbling. The memories, the training, the missions - all the years she’d spent pushing people away came crashing back, louder and more insistent.

“I’m sorry, Wanda,” she said, each word a painful effort. “I don’t… I don’t do relationships.” Her voice broke, and she could feel the sting in her chest, the realization that she was hurting Wanda. But the fear was overwhelming, a tidal wave of everything she’d tried to bury for so long, and it left her no room to think, no space to breathe.

Without another word, Natasha turned and hurried to the door, her footsteps heavy in the silence of the house. She didn’t dare look back, didn’t want to see the hurt in Wanda’s eyes. All she could do was escape, feeling the memories clawing at her, threatening to pull her under as she stepped out into the cold night, her heart pounding and her mind reeling.

Just as Natasha’s fingers brushed her coat, Clint’s voice cut through her resolve. “Nat.”

She froze, feeling her heartbeat thundering in her chest. Clint stood in the doorway, his gaze unwavering, the look in his eyes both gentle and firm.

“You’re really going to walk away from this?” he asked quietly, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. He stepped closer, his face a mix of understanding and expectation. “You know, you’re not the only one with a past, Nat. Wanda’s been through hell too. But here she is, willing to take a chance on you.”

Natasha swallowed, her throat tight as she processed his words. “I don’t want to hurt her, Clint,” she whispered, her voice raw with honesty. “I don’t even know if I can be what she needs.”

Clint’s expression softened, his eyes full of warmth that only a best friend could carry. “You don’t have to be perfect, Nat. Wanda doesn’t need you to be anything other than yourself. And from where I’m standing, that’s more than enough.”

She looked down, her mind a storm of doubts, but Clint’s words seemed to ground her. She realized, with a painful clarity, that maybe - just maybe - she did deserve this. Deserved Wanda. Her jaw tightened as she absorbed his words, feeling memories surface in her mind, fragments of her past - years of survival, of running, of pushing everyone away so she wouldn’t have to face her own heartache. The idea that someone could see her past and still care for her, still want her, felt foreign, but here was Wanda, offering her something she hadn’t dared to hope for.

Clint’s hand settled on her shoulder, the weight both comforting and firm. “Talk to her,” he urged. “You don’t have to have all the answers. Just… talk to her.”

Natasha stood by the door, Clint’s words lingering in the quiet, a steadying force as she considered what she was about to leave behind. She had always run, always turned her back on anything that felt like home. But standing here, with Clint’s words echoing in her mind, she realized that running hadn’t kept her safe - it had only left her alone. Wanda had opened her heart to her, despite everything she’d been through, and it was courage Natasha hadn’t seen in anyone before. It was time, maybe, to stop letting her fear control her.

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she let her hand fall away from her coat. Clint gave her an encouraging nod, the quiet support of a friend who had known her through it all. She nodded back, a silent acknowledgment, and without another word, turned toward the room she was sharing with Wanda, a newfound determination guiding her steps.

As Natasha approached the doorway, she found Wanda still there, her gaze fixed on the dimming embers of the fire, her expression difficult to read but so achingly familiar. The warm light danced across her face, illuminating that quiet strength, that gentleness that Natasha couldn’t resist.

“Wanda,” Natasha said softly, her voice raspy and filled with vulnerability she didn’t recognize.

Wanda turned, her eyes catching Natasha’s, reflecting both vulnerability and hope. It was a look Natasha had come to cherish, one that made her realize just how deeply she was in this. How far gone she was already.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I… I’ve spent so long keeping people at a distance. But you…” She swallowed, feeling her own defenses crack. “You’re the first person I can’t seem to push away, no matter how hard I try. And that scares me. Letting someone in like this… it’s not something I know how to do.”

Wanda took a step forward, closing the distance with that unwavering gaze. “Then don’t,” she murmured, her voice warm and soft, coaxing Natasha closer. “Let me in, Natasha. I know you’re scared, but I’m here. You’re not alone in this.” She raised a hand, cupping Natasha’s cheek, her touch featherlight but grounding.

The tenderness in Wanda’s eyes, in her touch, undid Natasha entirely. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, the walls she’d held for so long dissolving in the warmth of Wanda’s touch. Her fingers trembled as she reached up, holding Wanda’s hand as if it was the lifeline she hadn’t known she’d needed. “I’m scared, Wanda,” she admitted, her voice breaking, barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of letting myself love you, and even more of losing you. Everyone I let in either dies or disappears. I can’t…”

Wanda’s grip on her hand tightened, a quiet promise in that simple touch. “I’m not going anywhere.” Her thumb stroked softly over Natasha’s knuckles, grounding her. “You don’t have to be perfect, Nat. I don’t need you to be anything other than right here, with me.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, relief washing over her as her fingers laced through Wanda’s, feeling as if they’d always belonged there. “I’m done running,” she murmured, her voice quiet but resolute.

Their eyes met, and in that gaze, Natasha found all the courage she’d never been able to find within herself. Slowly, she leaned in, closing the distance, capturing Wanda’s lips in a kiss that held all her fears, all her hopes, and every unspoken promise between them. This kiss was different. It was deeper, free of hesitation, her emotions pouring into each movement, each second. Natasha’s hand found its way into Wanda’s hair, pulling her close, her need fierce, unapologetic. Wanda’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her in as if she, too, had been waiting for this, for them, for so long.

The kiss intensified, Natasha pouring herself into it, letting her guard drop completely, allowing herself to be vulnerable in Wanda’s arms. Her fingers twisted deeper into Wanda’s hair, and Wanda’s hand trailed up her arm, soft but firm, grounding her. Natasha felt as if she was coming alive, like every part of her had woken up, drawn into Wanda’s warmth, her steadiness. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads pressed together as they held each other close.

Natasha looked into Wanda’s eyes, her heart pounding, and saw the same fire, the same need that mirrored her own. Unable to resist, she cupped Wanda’s face, bringing her in for another kiss, more intense, almost desperate, as months of unspoken tension gave way. It was an ache she could feel in her chest, a need she hadn’t let herself feel for so long, and she surrendered to it completely.

As Natasha looked into Wanda’s eyes, she saw that same fire, that same unrestrained desire, mirroring her own. The weight of everything they'd held back, the longing, the fear, and the inevitability, all of it seemed to rise to the surface. Without a second thought, she pulled Wanda in, capturing her lips in a kiss that went beyond tenderness, beyond anything she had ever let herself feel.

This kiss was no longer tentative or questioning; it was a fierce, consuming need, her hands finding Wanda's waist and pulling her closer, as if she needed her as much as she needed air. Wanda responded in kind, her fingers slipping into Natasha's hair, tugging her closer as their lips moved together in perfect sync, every touch feeling like fire running through her veins, something primal. Natasha could feel her heart pounding and she was pretty sure Wanda could hear it too.

Their movements grew frantic, both of them losing themselves in the moment. Natasha could feel Wanda’s soft gasp against her lips as her hands roamed Wanda’s back, gripping the fabric of her shirt, anchoring herself in this moment. They stumbled slightly as they edged toward the bed, neither willing to break the kiss, not even for a second. Natasha barely registered the feel of the mattress at the back of her knees before they tumbled down together, Wanda's soft laugh breaking through, only for Natasha to capture it with another kiss, deeper, more unrestrained.

Their limbs tangled, hands exploring as they gave into the intensity they had held back for so long. Natasha ran her fingers through Wanda’s hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, feeling Wanda’s warmth, the way her body pressed against hers. She could feel Wanda’s heartbeat, as frantic as her own, their breaths mingling as they finally gave in, letting the world fall away.

Wanda's hands skimmed Natasha’s shoulders, tracing a path down her arms, her touch gentle but charged with electric energy, sending shivers through her. Natasha couldn’t hold back a soft, involuntary gasp as Wanda’s lips found her neck, trailing heat along her skin, igniting something deeper, hungrier. She pulled Wanda even closer, their bodies pressing together as they moved in sync, both of them surrendering completely to the moment, to each other, letting themselves finally fall into what had been waiting for so long.

When they finally parted again, Natasha held Wanda close, her forehead resting against hers as she caught her breath. Wanda traced gentle, reassuring patterns along her arm, anchoring her.

“So…” Wanda whispered, her voice tinged with that same vulnerability Natasha knew was on her own. “We’re really doing this?”

Natasha nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice shaky. “We’re doing this. I mean, unless you don’t want it, which is totally okay.”

“Natasha.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Natasha felt her heart race, every part of her body vibrating with the determination in Wanda's voice. In her entire life, it was the first time she had gone to bed with someone not because of some stupid mission, but because she really wanted to, because she felt something for the person who was with her at that moment. And that scared Natasha more than she could admit. She closed her eyes tightly, pushing those thoughts away and focusing on the feeling of Wanda's lips against hers, on the way her hands slid tentatively over her shoulders and arms until they reached her waist and even more tentatively, slid under her blouse, gently brushing her skin.

Her touch was warm and intoxicating and Natasha couldn't contain a moan when Wanda's lips found the skin of her neck again, biting lightly. Her hips rocked involuntarily against Wanda's, who was sitting on her lap, one leg on either side of her. Natasha abandoned all caution at that moment and slid her hands under the sweater Wanda was wearing, lightly scratching her back. She smiled in satisfaction at the moan that escaped Wanda's lips and did it again, gasping when Wanda ground her hips against hers.

"Fuck." Natasha moaned as Wanda bit and then licked her pulse point.

"I think that's what we're about to do, huh?"

"Oh, God." Natasha felt her panties get even wetter at the sound of Wanda's voice, husky and full of desire.

"Wanda will be enough."

Natasha's eyes met Wanda's and in them was a silent plea. Nat nodded, and lifted herself just enough for Wanda to remove her shirt. She was always very confident about her body, but when she saw Wanda's gaze, so raw, so intense and filled with true desire mixed with something else, Natasha felt her cheeks burn.

"You're so beautiful." Wanda whispered and leaned in to kiss her again.

Natasha moaned softly against Wanda's lips as her hands explored her exposed skin tentatively but determinedly. It was almost impossible to keep her moans down, but she knew they couldn't make too much noise, for the sake of the children in the same hallway as them.

Natasha bit the back of her hand hard to suppress a moan as Wanda's lips reached her breast. She had never experienced anything like this, a desire so intense, so true, so raw. And she needed to feel Wanda's skin against hers.

Natasha slid her hands to the hem of Wanda's sweater and with a silent request removed the garment. She took a moment to appreciate Wanda's beauty, feeling her mouth water at the sight that graced her eyes. Tentatively she slid her hands down Wanda's belly to her breasts, squeezing gently.

A low moan escaped Wanda's lips, and Natasha rose, kissing her with a desire she never thought possible. With a quick movement Natasha reversed their position and wasted no time began to distribute kisses along Wanda's jaw and neck, until she reached her breasts.

"So beautiful." Natasha whispered and her eyes met Wanda's again, with another silent request.

When she nodded, Natasha got rid of their jeans, and along with them their panties, eliminating any barrier between them. They moaned into each other's lips as their bodies touched for the first time, hips rocking against each other in a desperate search for contact, for friction.

Natasha slid one leg between Wanda's and nearly came right then and there at how wet she was. "Fuck, Wands."

"I need-" Wanda swallowed, her hips jerking.

"What do you need?" Natasha teased, rocking her hips slowly against Wanda's wet pussy.

"I need you, Nat."

That was enough to get Natasha moving, another time she would tease Wanda to the limit, but she needed it just as much and didn't want to waste time with games. Hopefully they would have plenty of other opportunities for that.

Gently, Natasha slid a finger inside Wanda, both of them moaning at the sensation. She began to move her finger slowly, and when she felt that Wanda was comfortable enough, she slid another one in. A louder moan escaped Wanda's lips and Natasha swallowed it with a kiss.

She moaned against Wanda's lips when she felt her slide a finger inside her and Natasha never thought it was possible to feel so much pleasure. Not really, and it was embarrassing how close she was to cumming.

Soon they found the perfect rhythm and their moans were muffled by the intense kisses as their bodies moved in perfect synchrony. It didn't take long for them to cum together, and that was, without a doubt, one of the best sensations Natasha had ever felt in her life.

As they lay together, Natasha realized she had never felt so vulnerable yet so completely safe, wrapped in the warmth of Wanda's touch, her hands on her skin, her breath brushing softly against her neck. It was as if every unspoken fear, every moment of hesitation, had melted away, leaving only the trust and certainty that whatever happened, they were here, together, completely lost in each other.

And as the night stretched on, Natasha allowed herself to fully surrender to the moment, letting go of every doubt and opening herself to Wanda in a way she never had with anyone else, trusting her completely, feeling the depth of their connection, and knowing that this was exactly where she was meant to be.

In that small, fire-lit room, wrapped in Wanda’s arms, Natasha felt a warmth and belonging she hadn’t thought possible. The rest of the world faded away as she let herself be completely, irrevocably lost in Wanda.

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lucky-bishova-42 · 3 months ago

Text

Two Hawks and A Widow

(this is a prequel to Malen'kiy Yastreb - it is Natasha's POV during the events of the Hawkeye TV show :) )

“I think they went down this way,” I pant, chasing after an irate Hawkeye down the streets of New York. Up in the distance I can see shadows of the supposed Ronin fighting what looks like the Tracksuit Mafia, “Oh great, not these guys again.”

“I can’t believe this is even happening,” Clint huffs, turning the corner and stopping to scope out the scene a bit more before deciding how to intervene.

“Well if—”

“I don’t want to hear it right now, Natasha,” Clint grumbles, knowing that I was about to point out that this whole thing could’ve been prevented if he would’ve just had a bonfire as soon as we defeated Thanos.

We both fall silent for a moment as we watch the Ronin take down several members of the Tracksuits.

“This person isn’t bad,” I point out, “although they look a little inexperienced. And now that we are closer, they look kinda small.”

I am not gonna lie, I am kinda impressed. They took down at least thirty men so far, despite their amateur fighting style.

“I don’t care what they look like, I am putting a stop to this,” Clint grunts, watching the Ronin start to get slightly overwhelmed with an increasing number of Tracksuits surrounding them, “Stay back until I subdue the Tracksuits.”

I nod and shift back into the shadows, biting back the suggestion that if I help, this would go a lot quicker. But, when he is like this, sometimes it is easier to just let him do what he wants.

Clint quickly disposes of the rest of the Tracksuits and pulls the said Ronin down the alley I was waiting in.

As Clint drags them down, I realize that this person is a LOT smaller than we had originally thought.

I wonder if this person is younger.

He pushes them against the wall rather roughly, and something in my gut almost makes me yell at Clint to be gentler with them.

Clint grabs the hood and rips it off to reveal—

“Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me!” Clint gripes.

He stole the words right out of my mouth.

No wonder this Ronin was so short.

A teenager, who can’t be more than 13, looks up at us with wide eyes.

“I—I— Y-You’re Hawkeye! And you’re Black Widow!” the teen stutters.

“Who the hell are you?!” Clint immediately asks.

“I’m Kate. Kate Bishop,” the girl, Kate, pants, “I—”

“Where the hell did you get this, kid?! How old are you?!” Clint cuts her off.

“Well I—”

“Do you know what you have done?!”

“Easy Clint,” I butt in before Clint can further harass the kid, “Let’s let her catch her breath. She just took out at least 40 guys.”

The girl sends me a grateful smile and continues to try to regulate her breathing. Once both her and Clint calm down a bit, Clint and I are both shocked to find out she is only 14 years old and got the suit at while staking out a black-market auction that was taking place beneath the charity auction her mother was hosting. I suggest that we get off the streets and take the kid somewhere to change out of the suit. She proposes to go to her Dad’s old apartment.

“So, what is a 14-year-old doing at a black-market auction?” I ask as we are walking to the apartment, making sure to keep her on the inside of the sidewalk so she is safe.

“Trying to figure out why my mother’s new fiancé was doing at said black-market auction,” she swiftly replies, “I don’t trust him. He is very suspicious… And loves swords.”

I have to admit, this kid has balls. Not only did she take out a bunch of the Tracksuit goons, she fully put herself into another dangerous situation by attending this black-market auction.

And to be honest, I don’t know if I fully believe she is 14 years old. I could tell she wasn’t lying when she told us, but she is very small for a 14-year-old.

“I see,” I hum, “does your mom know about your lack of trust in him?”

“No,” Kate frowns slightly, then whispers so softly I can barely hear it, “And it’s not like she would believe me anyway.”

“Could you tell your dad?” Clint asks.

Kate looks back at him before looking down, and I notice a shift in her emotions.

“No, um,” she looks briefly up at Clint and me before looking back down at her feet, “he, um, passed away a while ago.”

“Oh,” Clint says, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kate smiles sadly, pausing for a while before stating, “he left me his apartment. I go there sometimes to hang out.”

We continue to walk in silence for a while.

I can’t help but think there is more to her father’s death. The way her whole posture and demeanor changed was drastic; he obviously meant a lot to her. That is a lot for a young teen to go through.

“Should we call your mother to let her know you are okay?” Clint suggests.

“No, it is okay,” Kate shakes her head, before chuckling, “she probably hasn’t even noticed I am gone yet.”

Clint and I share a quick look, wondering what the kid meant by that, and I can tell he is about to ask her what she means by that. But he is cut off by her announcing that we have reached our destination.

The Tracksuits give Russians a bad rep.

Not only do they conduct shady business, but they are not known to be the brightest bulbs in the shop. Especially when they convince themselves that a 14-year-old is the Ronin and has been for all the bullshit that Clint pulled during the Snap years.

After they manage to burn down Kate’s deceased father’s apartment, we take Kate and the dog she saved to one of my safe houses in the city.

I sit her in the kitchen and help her clean her wounds while Clint goes back to the hotel to check on the kids. I was about to help her with the butterfly bandages when I notice she is already putting them on correctly.

“Wow,” I can’t help but be curious, “you are pretty well versed in this. Do you have a lot of experience?”

Kate’s eyes briefly widen before she schools her expression and shrugs her shoulders.

“Not really,” she chuckles slightly, “Maybe it is just from watching so much Grey’s Anatomy.”

I can tell she is lying. She won’t make direct eye contact with me and her hands are fidgety.

“Huh,” I ponder, “didn’t know they fixed minor wounds on Grey’s Anatomy…”

Kate flashes me a quick smile with a shrug and is about to respond when her cellphone starts to ring. When she pulls out her phone, her mom’s contact is flashing on the screen. I can see her face shift into panic before she takes a deep breath and looks back up at me.

“Sorry, it’s my mom, I gotta take this.”

“No worries, kid,” I reassure her, “Let me know if she wants me to bring you home.”

Kate smiles in appreciation before getting up to take the phone call in another room.

While she is gone, I take the time to start cleaning up the first aid supplies. As I am putting the last of the band aids back into the kit, my stomach starts to rumble. The kid might be hungry too. I look over to the clock to see it is well past midnight at this point, but I head over to the cabinet anyway. After looking over my options, I pull out a box of Kraft mac n cheese.

My mind briefly gets pulled back to a very different holiday season in a very different state at a very different time in my life.

I wonder how Yelena is doing? Does she ever think about me?

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and start filling up a pot with water.

By the time Kate comes back into the kitchen, I am just finishing mixing the cheese powder into the macaroni. Her face looks slightly blotchy as if she had been crying, but I try not to comment on it. I send her a small smile as she sits back at the table.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, “You must be after kicking Tracksuit ass for over 20 minutes.”

She chuckles softly, and I count it as a win. I sit across from her and give her a bowl.

“Thanks,” she whispers softly, looking down at the bowl, starting to move the macaroni around.

“No problem,” I reply, pausing before asking, “So… what did your mom say?”

“Oh… um…” she hesitates, “she just asked if I was safe and if I had a place to stay tonight.”

Yet again, I know she is lying. But I know it isn’t just because she wants to stay and help me and Clint. There is more going on.

But I decide not to press too much, “Did she not expect you home tonight?”

“Um no… I was going to stay at my Dad’s tonight.”

Another lie.

“Oh, okay,” I let it slide.

“I think I can probably get a key to my Aunt’s place, she is down in Florida for the winter, and I think I could stay there tonight. Or if not, I can stay at Dad’s once the fire is out. Or–”

“Woah kid,” I stop her nervous thought process, “you can just stay here. You are more than welcome to.”

She immediately pauses and looks shocked, “Oh no, I don’t want to inconvenience you. I mean, I already ruined your night, and I have the dog—”

“You won’t be,” I reassure, “Plus, this way I’ll know you are safe from the Tracksuits. They may be dumb, but they are still dangerous.”

This gets a slight chuckle out of her, “You promise it’s okay?”

“I promise kid. Now finish your mac n cheese, its late and we should get some shut eye.”

I swear this kid is the politest teenager I have ever met. After we ate, she cleaned all the dishes I used (which I was planning on just washing in the morning); she woke up early and made her bed, then made ME coffee and breakfast; and all throughout it all kept apologizing for “ruining Christmas.”

Clint met back up with us at the safehouse after dropping the kids off at the airport with Happy (who will be personally escorting them home). He came with me to drop Kate off at her mother’s work, where she is currently interning. Before we left, we both gave her our phone numbers and let her know that this would most likely be fixed by the end of the day. Clint kept emphasizing his was only for emergencies, but I told her to contact me if she ever needs help.

On our way back to the penthouse, Clint and I start to brainstorm plans on how to disassociate Kate’s name from the suit, once he gets it back from the LARPers of course.

“We could just storm in, then have them all arrested? I could contact Hill,” Clint suggests.

“But who knows if all the Tracksuits will be in one place? Plus, just because we have them arrested, doesn’t mean they won’t still think Kate is the Ronin,” I point out.

“True,” Clint sighs.

“And if we contact Hill, that means paperwork,” I groan, “and I am on vacation; NO paperwork for me.”

“I guess you’re right,” Clint concedes, “you are always right.”

“And don’t you forget it, Birdbrain,” I chuckle.

Silence falls over us while we continue thinking.

“Is it bad I kinda miss the kid?” Clint jokes while we continue walking.

I chuckle, “She was entertaining.”

After another block, an idea hits me, and I let a smirk take over my face. Once Clint notices, horror clouds his features.

“Oh no!” He exclaims, “Not that face! No, what ever you are thinking of, no! It’s not gonna work.”

“What happened to I am ‘always right’?” I laugh.

He groans and wipes his face, taking a deep breath, “All right, Nat, what’s your idea?”

“How about some ‘catch-n-release’?”

Well, this turned out to be a shit show.

Not only did we not get anywhere with the Tracksuits, but Kate managed to get herself caught up in this as well. After a lengthy warehouse battle and a precarious car chase, in which Clint’s hearing aid broke, we bring Kate back to the safehouse. She explains to us that the only reason she came was because a Tracksuit answered Clint’s phone when she tried to call him; which earns him a glare from me because I specifically told him to leave his phone here.

After a long talk about safety, I help Kate dress her new wounds as well as redress her old ones.

“Wow,” Clint signs to me as Kate goes to get changed, “I am not gonna lie, she really is an amazing archer.”

I nod to him, then sign back to him, “No kidding. But she is only a kid, Clint.”

“I know,” he signs back, “but it seems we might not be able to persuade her away to safety. And at least we know she can hold her own.”

“You cannot seriously be trying to convince me to try to let her help.”

“Well let’s be real Nat, if she is with us, at least we will know she won’t be out on her own.”

I sigh.

“Let’s find a place to get your hearing aid fixed.”

Kate recommends a place to get Clint’s hearing aid fixed and the woman who runs the place gets it up and running within 20 minutes. After lunch, we find ourselves following Kate to her mother’s house to try and use her security database to get more intel on Kazi and potentially Kate’s future stepfather.

We don’t have much time to snoop around before Kate’s mother and Kate’s mother’s fiancé come home unexpectedly.

Once her mother comes in, Kate’s demeanor shifts. It’s like she is a completely different teenager than the one we were joking around with earlier. Now she only talks when spoken to and is generally quieter and more drawn into herself.

After introductions, Eleanor suggests we sit down at the table to talk things out.

“Katherine don’t be rude,” Eleanor chastises Kate, “offer your guests refreshments.”

I watch as Kate seems to almost shrink under her mother’s gaze.

“O-Of course,” Kate stutters nervously, “Natasha, Clint, would you like anything to drink?”

“It’s call good, kid,” Clint sends her an easy smile.

Kate sends an uneasy one back.

“I would like my usual, Katherine,” Eleanor interjects, “and Jack would like one as well.”

Kate nods resolutely, “Right away, mom,” and she scurries off into the kitchen.

Clint and I share a look at Kate’s change in behavior.

She almost seems scared.

I am not sure I like this woman.

“So,” Eleanor smiles artificially, “I hope Kate hasn’t been causing you too much trouble.”

“Oh,” I say, “she hasn’t been causing us any trouble at all.”

“Really?” Eleanor is almost shocked, “She can be quite the handful.”

“Hmm,” Clint hums, “No, she has been a big help actually.”

“Well, isn’t that a shock,” Eleanor chuckles, before asking, “So how can I be of help to you?”

“We were really just here to take Kate home,” I lie with a small smile. I have a feeling if we were to tell her anything else, it might not end well; either for Kate or just in general.

“Thank you, then, for making sure she got home safely,” Eleanor acknowledges as Kate comes running back into the room with two whiskey glasses on a tray. Eleanor reaches out and grabs one before sending Kate a steely look, “I am sure Kate won’t cause you any more trouble in the future, right Katherine?”

“Y-yes! Of course!” Kate stammers out quickly.

Okay, I REALLY don’t like this woman. What has she done to Kate to make her this scared?

“If that is all, I can see the two of you out?” Eleanor ‘suggests’ but it feels more like a command.

Clint and I both get up and head to the door, followed by Eleanor. She is talking to Clint, and to be honest, I am not paying any attention. Clint can fill me in later. I am trying to get in eye contact with Kate to make sure she is okay.

I am unfortunately unsuccessful as Clint and I find ourselves back in the elevator on the way back downstairs.

“Well that happened,” Clint breaks the silence.

“Yeah,” I nod, “Eleanor was… not what I was expected.”

“You and me both. She seems like a hard-ass…” Clint agrees, “I am gonna call Laura in a bit to see if she can pull anything on that Sloan Ltd. Company.”

“That sounds good,” I say, and after a brief pause, “Should we invite Kate to the safehouse tonight?”

Clint smirks, “yes, and I have an amazing idea.”

A few hours later, the safe house has slightly more Christmas cheer and Kate is back to being the teenager we met a few days ago. Her and Clint debate the possibility of splitting a wooden arrow and boomerang arrows. Clint teaches her how to flick a quarter and I show her how to tie different knots using tinsel.

“So Clint,” Kate asks, “what was the best shot you have ever took?”

“Ah, let’s see,” Clint puts his finger to his chin pretending to ponder, while sending me a small smile, “it was the one I didn’t take.”

“Woah!” Kate’s eyes light up, “What do you mean?”

I chuckle and sit down on the couch beside Kate as Clint gears up to tell his story.

“Picture this,” Clint starts, “It is almost 20 years ago. I am a new agent and I get sent on a mission to take out this Russian spy who keeps thwarting all of SHIELD’s operations. And when I get there, I had a clear shot at the target. But the target was just someone who wanted out. Someone who wanted to find a different path in life.”

“And I thank every star in the sky that you didn’t release that arrow,” I smile sincerely.

Kate then looks between me and Clint with a soft smile on her face. And after a minute, she responds, “that is the best shot you have ever taken.”

Clint and I chuckle.

We seem to be in this awful pattern where things seem to be going completely fine but then fall apart so rapidly, I can’t keep up. I couldn’t tell you how we ended up on a roof top, fighting Maya and a Widow, Kate almost plummeting to the ground, and in an even more fucked up situation than what we started in.

And don’t get me wrong. I understand Clint is mad and scared; I am too, especially since Maya seemed to be able to find out Laura and the kids’ names; but that is no reason for him to be yelling at Kate like that.

Once he starts, its like her whole body goes on autopilot. Like she has been yelled at like this before.

She listens to his whole rant, tries to argue her side, but ultimately gives up and goes home. After she leaves, he turns to me to continue ranting.

I hold up my hand, “I don’t want to hear it, birdbrain. If you want to scream about it, go ahead, but I will not be listening to it.”

He looks like he is going to start coming at me now so I butt in before he can.

“Save it,” I cut him off, knowing that this won’t get us anywhere and I can’t deal with him when he is like this, “Go cool off and get your head back into the game. There was no need for you to yell at Kate like that. While you finish your temper tantrum, I am gonna go see what I can dig up about that Widow.”

With that, I propel myself down the side of the building and follow in the direction the Widow fled in. I try to put myself back into full Widow mindset to get an idea of where she could have gone.

After about an hour or so of searching, I finally catch up to her. She gets spooked and I end up chasing her through the streets of the city until I corner her in an alley.

When she realizes she can’t get out, she starts to square her shoulders as if to gear up for another fight.

I am getting too old for this.

I put my hands up in a placating matter, “Hey! Listen, I just wanna talk.”

She pauses her actions and almost tilts her head in confusion.

“Widow to Widow,” I add on, “I promise. I am not looking for another fight.”

This seems to work as her body language changes into a slightly less defensive position.

I sigh in relief as she reaches to take off her mask.

Wait! I know this Widow.

“Ana?” I stutter in disbelief.

“Hello, Natalia,” she smiles back uneasily.

I send her a small smile back. I haven’t seen Ana since my last mission for the Red Room. I wonder if she got out before I took it down.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

“Listen, if I knew that was you and your friend up there, I swear I would have never taken the job,” she explains, “and I will be letting my employer know I won’t be finishing it—”

“What job?”

“There is a hit out for your friend,” she clarifies, starting to look nervous and upset, “but I swear I didn’t know it was your friend, I promise I am going to back off.”

Of course there is a hit out on Clint. Add it to the list of things we have to deal with.

“It is totally okay, I believe you,” I reassure her, then joke, “you are not the first Widow who has tried to kill us.”

She lets out a soft chuckle.

“Do you know who put out the hit?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, I do not,” Ana looks down, and I know she is telling the truth, “I get my contracts through a third party so I don’t interact directly with the clients.”

“I see,” I hum.

“I can do some digging though,” Ana offers, “it probably won’t be too hard, the system they use is most likely flawed anyways.”

I smile, “that would be great.”

“Anything for a fellow Widow,” she smiles back, “especially one who beat up one of Dreykov’s goons for me.”

I chuckle.

“Are you okay after that fight?” I ask, “I thought I saw you get hit with a bullet.”

She smirks, “It’s just a graze. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Here,” I hold my hand out, “let me give you my number.”

She hands me her phone and I quickly put my number into it.

“Here you go,” I say, “And if you ever need anything, please feel free to reach out.”

“Thank you, Natalia,” Ana surprises me by stepping forward and giving me a tight hug which I quickly return.

“I am so glad you got out,” I whisper.

“Me too,” she whispers back, giving me one last squeeze before letting me go. She shoots a grappling hook up the side of the building to our left and sends me a nod, “Just because I am turning down this job, doesn’t mean someone else won’t pick it up. It was a lot of money.”

I nod back.

“Stay safe, Ana.”

“You too, Romanoff.”

And with that, she is gone.

By the time I make it back to the safe house, it is morning and Clint still seems angsty. I inform him of his new current predicament, but he just huffs and turns back to his coffee.

How can a man in his late 30s still act like a teenager?

I roll my eyes and head into the living room.

After a few minutes of debate, I decide to text Kate to make sure she got home okay and is safe. I asked her to text me last night when she got home, but I never got a reply. There is something about this kid that just makes me want to protect her from anything and everything.

Every minute I don’t get a reply, my worry increases. Aren’t kids her age obsessed with their phones?

My phone finally buzzes a full 25 minutes later.

Kate, 9:55: I am home. Sorry I didn’t text last night. Mom wasn’t too happy I was out late and forgot to do chores :/

Something about that text doesn’t sit right with me. I can’t put my finger on it, but why do I get the feeling something else happened last night when she got home?

I unfortunately cannot dissect those thoughts further because Clint comes into the living room and asks for more details about the hit out on him.

“So how did you get this Widow to talk again?” he asks.

I roll my eyes good-naturedly, “I didn’t ‘get her to talk’, I just talked to her… She was in the same year as me in the Red Room.”

“Oh,” he realizes, “I see. I getcha… So, what did she say exactly?”

“Did you even listen to anything I said earlier?” I huff, starting to get annoyed.

“I did! I did!” he defends, “I just… maybe... wasn’t paying attention?”

I huff again and proceed to repeat everything I told him earlier, this time with a slight impatience to my voice. After taking in all the information, properly this time, Clint doesn’t really offer any solutions.

“Well, it isn’t the first time there has been a hit put out on me,” he shrugs.

Again, I roll my eyes.

I go to argue that this is a very different situation than the last times because before he didn’t have a family who counted on him.

But honestly, I am too tired to argue.

“Then what is your plan in dealing with the Tracksuits?” I ask.

“Okay, now picture this…”

Clint walks me through his plan of meeting up with Maya and the Tracksuits to reveal that he, himself, is the Ronin; and how to try and get them off his back before it escalates even further up the chain of command.

“Now, are you sure you want to go in alone?” I confirm with him, “Because it would really be no trouble, and honestly smarter, if I was to hang out on one of the rooftops nearby.”

“No Nat, I promise,” he turns me down, “I need to do this by myself.”

I nod, understanding where he is coming from, “Okay, but if you end up hurt or killed, I am telling Laura it is your fault; then I am stealing her for myself.”

He laughs.

Clint leaves right after dinner; leaving me alone with the dog Kate had rescued. Knowing all I would do is stare at the dot of his tracker on my map until he comes back, I decide to grab the dog’s leash and take him on a quick walk around the neighborhood.

“Kate still has to name you properly,” I say down to the pup, who looks up at me with a tilted head and a smile, “I wonder if her mother would even let her keep you. Between you and me, I don’t like that woman.”

The dog huffs in agreement.

“Right! It seems like there is more going on with that situation, huh?”

He sends me another cute smile. This time I can’t resist in bending down to pat his head and smiling back.

“Aw. You are a good boy. Maybe Clint or I could keep you and Kate could come visit?”

We continue our walk in a peaceful silence. Once we reach the safehouse, I feed him and make myself a coffee.

Clint texts me that he made it to the location and will only text me again if he needs my help or when he is on his way back.

Hopefully he will be okay.

I look up to see that it is already almost 4 a.m. and debate putting down my coffee and getting some rest.

But I can’t bring myself to.

Even though I have been partners with Clint since I was a little over 18, and know he is fully capable of doing this by himself, everything that has happened over the past few years has made me nervous somehow.

I don’t sit in my worry long; however, as my phone buzzes again.

Ana, 4:03: Hi Natalia, I found out who hired me.

Ana, 4:03: Her name is Eleanor Bishop. She is a rich New York socialite who owns a security company: Bishop Securities.

Oh shit.

My phone buzzes again.

Ana, 4:04: I also found this, I am not sure if it will be helpful or not.

Ana, 4:04: *video attachment*

Ana, 4:05: Stay safe.

I click on the video and am met with a disturbing sight of Eleanor Bishop having a ‘business meeting’ with Wilson Fisk.

The only guy that Clint and I didn’t want getting involved in this situation.

Well this just got a whole lot more complicated.

I sigh and turn my attention back to the video.

In the video, she openly admits to killing Armand Duquesne III and framing her fiancé, as well as other crimes she dealt for Fisk.

Honestly, I am not that surprised. My gut had been telling me something was off, and this was definitely it. I can’t even imagine what Kate is going to do when she finds out—

Wait.

What about Kate?

What is gonna happen to Kate? Surely, she cannot stay in that house, her mother killed someone and is working with Kingpin.

And is she safe in that house right now?

I frantically grab my laptop and start running a trace on her phone. It takes a few moments, but when the location pops up, it is surprisingly not at her house.

Wait, is that?

I roll my eyes.

Of course she tracked Clint’s phone and followed him to his meeting with the Tracksuits. I sigh, but ultimately feel somewhat more relieved knowing she is potentially with Clint.

Looking up at the clock, even though it is nearing 5 a.m., it is still the middle of the night in California. I debate back and forth before ultimately pulling up my contacts and hitting dial on a number I never thought I would actually need to use.

Thank you Bruce, in advance.

After a few rings, the woman on the other line picks up, ‘Hello?’

“Hi, is this Jen Walters?”

‘Yes, it is. I swear if this is another prank call—’

“No I promise its not, sorry for the late call, but I need some legal advice?” I say uncertainly, not really knowing how to approach this situation.

‘Okay… do you mind telling me who is calling before I just go offering this advice?’

“Oh! Yes, sorry. My name is Natasha Romanoff,” I rush out, then add, “I am friends with Bruce.”

‘Oh my god! The Natasha Romanoff?’

“Yes,” I chuckle, “that’s me.”

‘I have heard so much about you from Bruce! And can I just say: I can’t believe he fumbled a gal like you!’

This I full on laugh at.

“I love your cousin, but I was never interested in him that way and I had to let him down gently,” I joke, “And let’s just say he wasn’t really my type.”

‘What, nerdy?’ she laughs.

“No, a man,” I chuckle.

She snorts over the phone.

‘I don’t blame ya there,’ she says, ‘So what can I help you with Natasha?’

“It is a bit of a long story…”

I proceed to tell her all about how we met Kate, leaving out any Ronin details, and how Kate’s living situation is not ideal and will most likely turn for the worse once her mother inevitably gets arrested. She tells me there is personally not much she can currently do, but she patches in a Social Worker who creates a case for Kate and we talk options.

Ultimately, when Eleanor gets arrested, Kate will most likely get put into foster care. She only has one living family member in the form of a great aunt, who I am guessing is the one she talked about the night we met, that unfortunately got diagnosed with dementia a few months ago and is now is a care facility in Florida.

I ask if there is another option outside of foster care, because I have heard the horror stories from Clint about his experience, and we all agree that it probably would be better if Kate was with people she knew.

Janine offers up a solution: that I could become an emergency foster placement for Kate.

I thought it would take me longer to decide, but I surprised myself in immediately agreeing to the idea.

‘I can email over some paperwork now if you would like to sign it and send it back,’ Janine, the social worker, informs me, ‘that way we can have everything squared away as soon as possible so whenever Kate needs to stay with you there will be no legal issues.’

‘Yeah,’ Jen adds, ‘And I can help cut through all the red tape stuff and get the process fast tracked, so don’t worry about that.’

“Okay,” I say, “is there anything else that will need to be done?”

‘Not right at this moment,’ Janine assures, ‘but call me if or when Eleanor gets arrested and we can talk more from there.’

“Sounds good,” I reply, “Thank you. Both of you.”

‘Anytime,’ Janine says, ‘Call me if you have any questions.’

‘And feel free to call me too,’ Jen adds, ‘A friend of Bruce is a best friend of mine!’

I chuckle as we all say goodbye and hang up.

Less than 20 minutes later, the paperwork is sitting in my inbox and I go to click on it, but I pause.

Am I really going to do this?

Then I think of Kate.

She truly reminds me of myself at times; like how she seems like she was forced to grow up quicker than she needed to, and how she seems to put everyone else’s safety and wellbeing before her own. She has been such a bright addition to this incredibly shitty situation.

I smile and click open the file.

By the time I sign everything and send it back to Janine, Clint and Kate walk through the safehouse door.

Kate seems so much happier than the last time I saw her; her and Clint are recounting their previous battle and I can’t help but smile.

But my mood dampens when I remember what I am about to tell them.

“Hey Natasha!” Kate smiles over at me brightly, “Wanna hear about how I just saved Clint’s ass, yet again?”

Clint rolls his eyes with a friendly huff, “I had the whole situation under control.”

“Sure you did,” Kate drawls sarcastically.

I send them a soft smile and motion for them to come join me in the living room, “As much as I would love that, I have some information I need to tell you guys.”

Clint catches my eyes and seems to figure out that the information I have is more serious because the grin he had drops off his face, “What’s wrong?”

“Ana, the Widow who was on the rooftop that night, figured out who hired her to kill you,” I announce, looking at Clint.

“Who?” Kate asks, her eyes jumping between me and Clint.

I take Kate’s hand and give it a soft squeeze, “it was your mother, Kate.”

Telling Kate that her mother killed a man, was involved in Kingpin’s business, and put a hit out on Clint was like a punch to the gut.

Initially, Kate did not react. When she did, she started to panic, insisting that we should go home and enjoy Christmas and that she would clean up ‘her own mess.’ We reassured her that we were her partners and weren’t going anywhere. And that the ‘mess’ that we were in was not hers but rather her mother’s (and slightly Clint’s but I didn’t add that) and that it was not her fault.

She has been pretty quiet ever since.

Her and Clint are currently making arrows for tonight while I map out our exit routes. Clint looks up at me then down at Kate with a forlorn look on his face. I send him a soft smile, and get up to go join them.

“What kinda arrow are ya making there, malen’kiy yastreb?” I ask Kate, not even realizing the nickname I let slip out.

Kate just shrugs and looks up to Clint for an answer. Clint smiles softly, “That’s a freeze arrow.”

Kate nods and then goes back to working on her arrow. I swear I hear her sniffle, but I don’t see the presence of tears on her cheeks. I frown up at Clint.

“So Katie-kate,” Clint tries, “How fancy is this party we are going to later?”

“Pretty fancy,” Kate hums.

“Great,” Clint chuckles sarcastically, “time to drag out the ol’ trusty suit and tie.”

Kate chuckles, “My dad also hated to dress up for it.”

I softly smile at Kate when she looks up at us.

“He would’ve loved to meet you guys,” Kate states, “But he would be glad that you guys are here to keep me safe. And that you kept me safe that day…”

I share a look with Clint and we both stay quiet and leave our body language open so Kate will hopefully elaborate more.

“You saved me that day,” Kate looks up at Clint, “the day the aliens came to New York. The Chitari I think they were called?”

My eyes widen slightly and I look over to Clint who seems to be hanging on Kate’s every word.

“Our building got hit pretty hard and there was this big hole in the side. I remember just standing there, almost unable to move, when an alien guy was coming straight for me. But right before it got to me, it got taken out by an arrow. I looked behind to see you, just a regular guy, fighting frickin’ aliens with a stick and a string,” Kate chuckles softly as a tear runs down her face, “I decided that day to start learning how to shoot, because I know it could save my life, or someone else’s, someday.”

She wipes the tear off her face and continues, “Our building ended up collapsing that day. Dad didn’t make it out…”

“I am so sorry, Kate,” I wrap her in a tight hug.

She initially flinches, but gradually starts to lean into it.

“It’s okay,” Kate sniffles pulling back, “it was a while ago.”

“That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Clint says, “But I am glad you survived that day.”

Kate sends us both small smiles, “If I didn’t who would’ve saved your ass today, old man?”

Clint laughs.

After a very long and taxing conversation, where we were basically pleading with Kate to have her stay back so she is safe, we reluctantly are all headed to the Christmas party to find Kate’s mother and hopefully end all of this.

I know if we made her stay back, she would have just ended up following us anyway and potentially creating a MORE dangerous situation. But at least this way, we can have more control over what is going on.

“Kate, remind me again of YOUR tasks and rules for tonight,” I ask her.

“I find my mom, take her somewhere safe, then stay out of sight,” she drones.

“And what else?” I nudge her shoulder.

She sighs heavily, “I will stay out of sight and safe, and not put myself in danger.”

“Correct,” Clint and I hum in unison.

“It is for your own safety kid,” Clint reminds her, “this can get ugly really fast. This is the best way we will know you will be okay, because I am gonna need someone around to bug me about boomerang arrows.”

This earns a chuckle from Kate.

“And only use your bow and trick arrows if necessary,” I tack on then hand her an earpiece, “here put this is your ear. Let us know if/when you need help.”

“And remember the LARPers will be around the party as well if we can’t get to you right away,” Clint adds.

“Okay, got it,” Kate nods resolutely.

“Alright partners,” Clint cheers, throwing an arm around each of us, “Let’s give ‘em hell.”

Ana was right. Another Widow picked up the contract that Eleanor put out to have Clint killed. Luckily, I don’t have to worry about Kate as I chase this Widow through Rockefeller Center. She had found Eleanor about 10 minutes ago and told Clint and I that she was safe in the kitchen with her.

Although I don’t know if I would use the word ‘safe’ in the same sentence as ‘Eleanor.’

After a long ass, almost playful, fight with this Widow; I explain the situation to her, and she easily backs off.

Then I find myself on the Rockefeller ice rink with Clint taking down what has to be over 200 Tracksuits. And of course they are all wearing red and green suits tonight. Honestly, I can’t blame them for wanting to get into the spirit.

As we take the last one down, Clint and I look over to see Maya fighting Kazi over on the diagonal from us.

“Huh, seems like that alliance fell apart,” Clint observes.

I nod, “Maybe she finally started asking the right questions and didn’t get the answers she wanted.”

“Hmm,” Clint hums, “Well, that is one thing we potentially don’t have to deal with.”

“Yeah,” I agree, stretching my limbs before offering, “let’s go find Kate.”

“Hey kid, we are on our way back up to you,” Clint says over the earpiece as we start towards the building.

We pause when nothing but static comes back over our earpieces.

“Kate?” I try.

Nothing.

We share a nervous look as we pick up our pace and move towards the building faster. As we enter the building, we pick the fastest route towards the kitchen Kate and her mother are supposed to be hiding in.

Once we get to the kitchen, we find it empty.

Clint sighs, “Oh great.”

I was already uneasy when Kate didn’t answer us back earlier, but now the feeling starts to intensify. I shove down the feeling as I pull out the tracker on my phone.

“The tracker shows she is down the block at… FAO Shwartz?” I inform Clint confusedly.

“Let’s go then,” Clint nods.

As we get closer to the store, we see start to see the flash of police cars. Getting to the store front, we find Kate sitting on the curb with a Police officer standing next to her, and many of them walking about.

Kate is now just dressed in her new suit the LARPers made for her and seems to have some cuts on her face.

Clint nods to me and he goes off to talk to the police officers. I walkover to where Kate is sitting, send the police officer a smile, and sit down next to Kate.

Kate jumps slightly as I sit down before schooling her expression.

“Hey malen’kiy yastreb,” I bump her shoulder with mine.

“Hey,” she replies softly, “sorry I didn’t stay in that kitchen…but my mom left and I wanted to make sure she would be okay, I guess her and Fisk’s deal went south this morning, and I just didn’t know what to do, and—”

“It’s okay, Kate,” I reassure her, sending her a soft smile, “I understand.”

“Mom got arrested,” Kate states in a semi-monotone voice, staring off at the flashing lights.

“I know,” I answer back, softly.

We sit in relative silence for a few moments before she speaks up again.

“I took down Fisk,” she states, in the tone.

I let the smallest bit of surprise take over my features.

Damn, this kid really does have balls.

“Really?” I ask, she hums an affirmative, “That is really impressive, Kate.”

She nods with a half-smile, before letting her features go back to the neutral state it was before.

If she fought Fisk, she probably has more injuries than just those cuts on her face.

I look up to see an ambulance pulling up to the area the police have blocked off. I nudge Kate to get her attention.

“Why don’t we get you checked out really quick?” I point over to the ambulance.

“Oh, I think I am okay,” Kate tries to persuade me.

“Trust me, Kate,” I chuckle as I stand up, “once your adrenaline wears off, you might think differently.”

I hold my hand out for her to take, and she hesitates for a minute before taking my hand.

As she is getting looked over by the paramedic, I keep enough of a distance so that she can have some privacy but close enough that I am here if she needs me.

I hear the paramedic say that she probably has a concussion and broken ribs, and that she strongly suggests Kate goes to the hospital. Kate pretty much refuses, but let’s the paramedic continue to patch her up.

I sigh.

Clint walks back up to me, “How’s the kid?”

“She took Fisk down by herself,” I inform him.

I watch as his eyes widen and his eyebrows rise towards his hairline, “Wow… is she okay?”

I shrug, “she seems to be adamant that she is okay and doesn’t need to go to the hospital.”

Clint chuckles and smirks, “Welp, I can’t say anything without being hypocritical.”

“What did you find out?” I ask him.

“I guess they came here to arrest Eleanor, and when they got here, they also found Fisk unconscious inside the store. But I guess as they were in the process of actually arresting Eleanor, Fisk must’ve woken up and got out somehow.”

“You don’t seem super worried about that,” I notice he still has that easy smirk on his face.

“Well… let’s just say I heard an Echo tell me that she took care of it,” Clint’s smirk widens.

“Ahh, I see…” I smile.

We both look over to see the paramedic finishing up with Kate.

I will need to call Janine and Jen later… I am strangely happy about that.

“Shall we get Kate and head home?” Clint nudges me.

“Yeah,” I smile, “let’s go.”

And with that, we head over to the teen sitting on the back of the ambulance.

#kate bishop #mama nat #mama spider #malen’kiy yastreb #natasha romanoff #marvel #nat is gonna be kate's mom #clint barton #hawkeye #clint barton is a good bro #kate needs a hug #natasha is alive

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