#natasha romanoff x read | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redroomreflections · 7 months ago

Text

A Fleeting Moment

Note: This is an AU of the AU. This is using Sixteen Candles characters but it’s does not have any affiliation or connection to the storylines and drabbles. It’s completely au.

FOR MY ANON BESTIE

Read sixteen candles here on a03

Warning: breastfeeding and a bit of age regression from Bunny. Spanking (not done by Nat/Wanda) and child abuse in general. Also mentions of SA by a minor.

Bunny can pinpoint the moment like a location on a map. She can remember the first time she hid within herself, protecting what was left of her sanity, for the sake of staying alive. When she was nine years old her father died. She got the news on a Wednesday afternoon. She slid into the backseat of her mother’s car, wondering why her older sister was driving when she noticed the tense mood. She sat back in her seat, watching the trees go by, as they drove. She was silent the entire way home. The somber feeling of the car unsettled her. She walked into her home with excitement. Her teacher stuffed her very first report card of the year into her backpack and she wanted to show them. She struggled with math and her dad stayed up with her some nights to help her. He never got angry with her or yelled at her. He simply found the tools to help her thrive. She was more than ready to show him the fruits of their labor. She raced into the kitchen first, her backpack slapping against her back, as she searched for her parents. She skidded to a comical stop as she saw her mother bent over the counter, her older sister, Brie, holding her mother in her arms as she cried.

“Mommy,” Bunny asked. She stepped around her sister to tug at her mother’s shirt. “Mommy, are you okay?” Sherry looked down at her with tears in her eyes. She was distraught and hurt. Bunny, having never seen her mother so upset, wanted nothing more than to make it better.

“No, baby, I’m not okay.” Sherry sniffled. She wiped at her eyes before grabbing onto Bunny's arms. She looks into her eyes. His eyes. “Your daddy. He was sick.”

“Sick how?” Bunny tilts her head.

“Your daddy had cancer, baby,” Sherry continues. She swallows thickly.

“Like the bald kids in the commercial?” She questions and Sherry nods. “So he’s getting medicine from the doctor, right? They can make it better.”

For a moment Sherry wants to smile at her daughter’s innocence. She wants to cry at having this conversation with her daughter.

“No, y/n, they can’t make it better.” Sherry doesn’t know the right thing to say. She doesn’t know how to tell her daughter that her father, her husband, stopped his treatments because he was in too much pain. He hid it from her to allow her to enjoy as much of her childhood as she could. “They can’t make it better this time. Daddy passed away. He’s not coming back.” Bunny’s lips curled, her chin quivered, and her tears fell as she cried silently. She leaned into her mother, reveling in the feel of Sherry’s arms, as the words sunk in.

“He promised,” Bunny whispered into her mother’s shoulder. “He promised he would take me to the game. I don’t even like it but I can like it for him.” Bunny pulled back. “Tell him. I’ll sit and I won’t ask to leave and I won’t go to the bathroom too many times. Please, tell him.”

Sherry’s shoulder shook as she tried to keep in her sobs. “I can’t tell him, baby. I can’t. He’s gone.” Faster than she can react, Bunny pulls away from her mother. She runs up the stairs and into her parent’s bedroom. She searches far and low for the man in question only to come up empty. His side of the bed is perfectly made. His shoes still standing next to his dresser. His wallet is on the nightstand. Bunny comes over to the nightstand. His wedding ring sits on the dresser right next to the rest of his belongings. She only wants to touch it. To feel him with her. She takes a hold of the rings to turn over in her hands.

He promised.

A week later, the funeral has come and gone. Bunny has said goodbye to her father. She sits patiently in the living room of her home as people enter and exit. No one pays too much attention to her as they mingle and talk amongst themselves. Most of them glance at her and whisper. She knows what they’re saying.

He dind’t tell her. No one told her.

She was clueless as can be up until a week ago. She never knew her father was sick. She resents all of them for not telling her. She misses him. His smile. The way his eyes would crinkle whenever he was amused by something. She misses the way he smelled. The way he always brought joy into their lives. Bunny picks at her simple black dress. Her hair is pinned into a tight ponytail at the base of her head. Her shoes, black Mary Jane shoes, top off the outfit. She’s dressed so perfectly wehn everything inside of her feels like a mess. She stands from the couch to find her mother. Sherry is in her bedroom, surrounded by her older sisters, when Bunny enters. She’s crying to herself, as the other girls try and comfort her.

“Hey, go downstairs and play with the other kids,” Brie instructs.

“I want to be with Mommy,” Bunny ignores her to come and stand next to her mother. “Mommy, can I stay here?” Sherry simply looks at her and crumples. She turns away from the little girl to cry into her hands.

“Go, Bunny, she’s not in the mood.” Brie tries again.

“She hasn’t talked to me all week,” Bunny says defiantly. “I just want to sit with her. She’s my Mama too.” She stands with her arms folded. What used to be a way to annoy her siblings seems to do even worse. Brie doesn’t react. She simply stands there.

“Go,” Sherry says in a hushed tone. “Go to your room, go outside, go sit down. I don’t care just please go.” She says. Bunny’s heart drops. She only wants to be with her family. She wants them to hold her. To be with her. She doesn’t want to be alone. She certainly doesn’t want to play with the other kids. “Go!’ Sherry shouts, pointing to the door. Bunny jumps into action, leaving the room with tears in her eyes. She doesn’t go to her room this time. At least, not to stay. She grabs her favorite stuffed animal, Bunny II. It’s the one her dad gave her. It still smells like him. If they wanted to be left alone she could do that. She steps into the hallway with measured steps. She counts to herself how many. Finally, she reaches the bathroom. She closes and locks the door. She climbs into the bathtub, pulling the curtain close, not caring if she messes up her dress, her hair, or her stockings. She squeezes Bunny II to her as she cries.

She may be nine years old but she’s not stupid. Mama doesn’t want her. She never has. She has been able to tell since she was little. She treats her differently than all of the sisters. She yells at her more. Acts as if she is a burden. Maybe Daddy noticed too. Maybe that’s why he made the extra effort to be with her. Bunny lets her tears slip out onto the cold flooring of the bathtub. She brings her knees to her chest to lie in the fetal position. She stuffs her thumb into her mouth, sucking stronger, as she pulls at her ear. It doesn’t make her feel better. At least not all the way. It would work for now. Her body begins to feel weaker. She can’t stay awake for too long as her eyes flutter closed.

Hours later, Bunny wakes up by banging at the door.

“y/n, are you in there?” It’s Danielle. She knocks again, and again, and again. Bunny lifts to look at the door, not wanting to answer, as the knocking gets harder. If she doesn’t answer they’ll worry.

A part of her says let them. They didn’t care if she was alive anyway. They never care. When the knocking becomes excessive, she climbs from the tub with Bunny II dangling from her left hand. She turns the lock and twists the knob open to find her family looking back at her. She’s met by her mother’s enraged hands shaking her.

“Have you been in here this whole time?” Sherry shook her. “Answer me?” She didn’t care that Bunny seemed afraid of her anger. “Hello! Answer me. Why didn't you say anything? We’ve been looking for you for hours.”

Bunny simply whimpers. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Sherry asks incredulously. “What are you sorry for? You know better. Don't just disappear.”

Bunny’s lip trembles but she doesn’t cry. She stands, with Sherry’s tight grip on her arms, and a blank expression on her face.

“Take these wet clothes off and go to bed,” Sherry releases her.

Bunny nods to herself. This was going to be her new normal.

The next time Bunny regresses is when she’s eleven years old. She’s sitting at the dinner table, refusing to eat, and getting lectured about it. Her mother has been giving her disapproving looks all night while everyone else around her does what they're told. She pushes her plate away with a pout sitting against the back of the chair.

“Y/n, you’re not getting anything else,” Sherry warns her. “So you eat that or you go to bed hungry.”

“Hungry,” Bunny supplies and Mike smacks his lips. “I can go to bed hungry.”

“No, you’re going to sit and eat the food, even if you have to be here all night,” Mike steps in. He’s been dating her mother for a year. Long enough for him to think his opinion matters in htis household. Apparently, it does.

“I don’t want it,” Bunny looks ot her mother pleadingly. She slams her fork against the table.

“See that’s the problem,” Mike says. He looks to Sherry to back him up. “She does what she wants. No one else here acts like this but her. You need to whoop her ass and then make her eat it. Don’t give her a choice. Eat the food. I’ve said it not her. I’d like to see you give me attitude like you do her.” His tone of voice isn’t welcoming or loving at all. His words push Bunny into action. She mashes her fork into the mashed potatoes, forcing herself to swallow them down between her tears. She doesn’t like peas. Her mom knows that. “When I was growing up I wasn’t allowed to tell my parents what I would or wouldn't eat.” Mike goes on and on.

Bunny shovels more and more food into her mouth, finally pushing the plate away before she can finish.

“I don’t want to,” She whispers.

“Come over here a second,” Mike beckons her over. Bunny looks over to her mother for help but Sherry clearly agrees with him. Bunny reluctantly stands from her seat to come to Mike. “I can tell you have an attitude with what I told you right now.”

“I don’t,” Bunny shakes her head. “I just don’t like it.”

“Every time I come here you don’t like it and she lets you get away with it,” Mike frowns. “She worked hard to make you food and you sit and act very ungrateful. She already gave me permission to whoop you. I just haven’t yet. I think tonight I might have to.”

“No,” Bunny shakes her head.

“No, what?” Mike asks. “Everyone else at this table is sitting here. You’re the only one that has a problem. You always have a problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” Bunny balls her fist unconsciously as her feelings get the best of her. Why was it such a big deal for her to eat? She doesn’t want it. She’s not hungry. She can just go to her room like always.

“And you’re balling your fist up at me,” Mike is angry. “What are you going to hit me or something?” He stands, towering over Bunny, as he gets a bit closer to her face. “Don’t you ever ball your fists up at me or I’ll show you what it really means to be grown since you want to act like it.” Bunny’s tears come faster now as she tries to calm her breathing. “Now, I gave you a chance to sit there and eat, and you didn’t.” Bunny can see her siblings sitting, avoiding her gaze, as she receives her punishment. “Go, and sit down. You’re going to sit here until everyone is done.” He instructs with a poke to her chest. Under normal circumstances, Bunny would have rubbed the aching spot. Instead, she rushes to her chair, with her head down. She rubs her arms, hoping to keep quiet, as she cries.

She can tell it’s making everyone else at the table uncomfortable but she doesn’t care.

It’s another half hour when Mike lets her go to her room. She felt all cried out as she tucks herself into the wall against her bed. She pushes her thumb into her mouth, eyes squeezed shut, as she hopes to shut out the rest of the world. Somewhere far away she can hear Faith enter their shared bedroom. She’s too far gone to respond to her.

She doesn’t feel like herself. Her headaches. Like a constant pressure that can’t be relieved. Bunny cries herself to sleep for what feels like the millionth time in her life.

*******

Over the years, as the pain never leaves her, Bunny finds those fleeting moments to bring her comfort. When she can calm down and not think about anything else but what makes her feel good. She does it more often as she becomes older. Her brain feels younger with the same constant ache.

When she’s adopted by Natasha and Wanda she tries to hide it. She really did. She would hide in her bedroom whenever she felt like she needed a moment to herself. She would suck her thumb, and count the tiles on the wall, or sing a song to herself in her head. Everything she wishes she had someone else do for her. Bunny is a few months shy of her sixteenth birthday when she finds a viral video of breastfeeding on her Facebook page. She passes over it once before scrolling back up. She’s entranced, intrigued, and startled by the feelings inside of her. She listens to the narrator talk about the bond, the nutrients, and the emotions it brings forth for both mother and child. She finds herself for the first time in her life upset by something so innocent. She slams her laptop closed, leaving it to rest on her desk, as she returns to her homework.

Days past and her interest only grows

Why did it make her feel this way?

Some nights, Natasha or Wanda would tuck her into bed. She’d find comfort in the form of cuddling with her mothers. Her nightmares seemed to be getting worse. Other nights, Bunny would allow herself to regress. She learned that word a while ago. She doesn’t know how old she is when it happens. She only knows that being in this space made her feel better. It felt safe. No one could hurt her when she felt like this.

Bunny’s cravings for comfort only grew. She would research and watch videos and research more. Whenever she had a long day, she would find a blanket, and cover herself, pushing her thumb into her mouth and imagining it was her Mama. Her eyes popped open at the new revelation. Her interest was something entirely different. She wants it. She needs it. She’s too old to want something like that though. If someone found out they’d make fun. Another thing on the list of things wrong with her. So Bunny’s desire goes untouched. She’s content with her thumb-sucking and her imagination for now.

Until one night, she’d had a particularly bad nightmare. She’s been crying out in her sleep, sweating dripping from her forehead, as she thrashes around. She’s ripped from her dreams by a cool compress against her forehead and another hand caressing her cheek. She opens her eyes to find Wanda’s understanding ones looking back at her. Her eyes flash over to the lamp on her nightstand that’s been turned on.

She whimpers.

“Shh, sweet girl,” Wanda gives her a soft smile. “Mama’s here. You had a nightmare.” Her voice is sweet honey to Bunny’s ears. Bunny doesn’t move, she simply watches Wanda work around her before the other woman crawls into bed with her. Bunny doesn’t hesitate to tuck herself into Wanda’s arms. She lays her head directly onto Wanda’s breast, using it as a soft pillow, as she cries to herself. “Hey, it’s okay.” Wanda traces patterns into her forearm. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me and Mommy.”

“Mommy?” It’s the only word Bunny can mutter.

“She’s out on a mission, a last-minute thing,” Wanda explains. “She had to but she misses you a lot. Don’t you miss her?”

Bunny nods. She’s too afraid to speak. She doesn’t know if speaking will help her right now.

“You’re not very talkative tonight, huh?” Wanda doesn’t find a problem with that. “That’s okay. We can just lie here.” At Bunny’s shift, she knows there is a problem. She can feel the way Bunny’s fingers trace along the hem of her shirt. She raises it up enough for the young girl to touch the entire expanse of her belly. “It’s called skin-to-skin. A lot of babies do it to bond with their mothers.”

“Me?” Bunny says. Her limited vocabulary is a bit concerning to Wanda but she chalks it up to her being sleep deprived.

“If it helps you,” Wanda encourages. “I think of you as my baby already.” She shrugs. “We all need something to ground us sometimes.” Wanda’s words soothe her. She talks about any and everything as Bunny’s movements stop. Her hand now lies flat on Wanda’s belly, just inches away from her breast, as the girl falls asleep again.

Wanda doesn’t think of the moment again. In the morning, Bunny is back to her talkative and loving self. She eats with Wanda, watches a movie with her, and even takes a dog on the walk. There’s no indication of her nightmare last night. There usually isn’t. When Natasha returns home, Bunny is in her arms before she can drop her bags.

“I missed you that’s all,” The teen says when Natasha gives her a surprised look.

It’s a week later when Natasha discovers what’s on her laptop. She’s come into the girl’s room to put her laundry away. She places folded clothes in their appropriate drawers before she goes to leave. Bunny left it open to go and shower before they left for the Avenger’s Compound. Tony was having a family picnic of sorts. Natasha isn’t intentionally snooping. She simply wants to close the laptop when the headline of the article catches her eye.

Breastfeeding Mothers and inducing breastfeeding.

Natasha reads over the line a few times. Was Bunny pregnant? No way. They would have noticed. So why was she looking at this? Natasha doesn’t find it weird. No. Not at all. She just doesn’t understand. She decides to leave the laptop alone and maybe mention it later.

At the picnic, Bunny sits with Lila and Cooper as they catch up with each other. From time to time, she glances over to Thor and Jane’s newborn baby. He’s a couple months old now. Jane is none the wiser to Bunny’s longing looks as she feeds baby Elias with a blanket for privacy. Natasha on the other hand does notice it.

What was going on with her?

Natasha mentions it to Wanda later on in the night.

“I’m telling you, she was staring quite hard,” Natasha pushes the covers back on the bed so she can climb in. She’s talking to Wanda who is standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Her only responses thus far have been “yep” and “oh wow” as she listens to her wife’s theory.

“I don’t think she’s pregnant but I’m concerned,” Natasha finishes. Wanda peeks her head from the bathroom to look at her.

“If you’re really that concerned we can talk with her,” Wanda shrugs. She doesn't see the big deal. A teenager being curious about such a natural part of life didn't concern her.

“No, I don’t know,” Natasha tries to figure out what is going on with you. “It’s not like anything bad can come from it? I guess. I’m just curious about the reasons behind her being so curious, you know? Nothing serious.”

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and if it becomes a thing then we can say something.” Wanda flicks the switch in the bathroom. She climbs into bed with Natasha. She cuddles into her and Natasha automatically wraps her arms around her.

It’s totally become a thing. Bunny’s behavior, in general, has become a thing. No, there’s nothing she’s done wrong, but Wanda’s began to notice things. Like how she leaves her blanket and Bunny II lying around the house, or how her taste buds have certainly regressed to that of a three-year-old, and sometimes at night, she wants to cuddle with her more. She doesn’t hesitate to press herself into Wanda’s side and rests her hands against Wanda’s bare belly. Wanda notices the increasing glances to her chest.

It’s kind of hard to miss when anyone does it but when a sixteen-year-old girl does she’s concerned. So she brings it up to Natasha.

“Could she be wanting to breastfeed?” Wanda asks one day while they’re in the kitchen. At Natasha’s look, she throws the idea out of the window. “I know it sounds crazy but that may explain it.”

Natasha thinks for herself. All of Bunny’s behavior would explain it.

“You might be right Wanda but what do we do with that?” She’s just as lost as her wife. “I don’t want to bring it up and make her feel bad about it.”

“We do so gently,” Wanda sighs. “With care and with compassion.”

“You always know what to say,” Natasha murmurs into Wanda’s neck as she sits on her lap. “I love you. I love the way you love her.”

“I love you too,” Wanda replies.

How could they help? By doing research.

Natasha and Wanda both did research. Together and separate. They came up with no links at first until Natasha stumbled upon something called age recession. Most research was geared towards children of younger ages. Bunny’s situation is different. Entirely different. With all of the tools they needed, they decided to let things happen naturally. If outside help was needed they would seek it but for now, they wanted Bunny to come to them.

The moment arises when Bunny has another nightmare. This time she’s reserved and more into herself than before. They can’t get her to calm down no matter what methods they try. Until Wanda remembers how much skin-to-skin contact has helped before. She rips her shirt over her head and tosses it somewhere across the room. She’s now in her bra and sleep shorts.

“Bunny, I’m going to help you take off your shirt now,” Wanda says hoping to get through to the young girl. “Can you nod your head if you hear me?”

Bunny gives a slight nod but doesn’t offer anything more. She allows Natasha and Wanda to take off her shirt before she rushes into Wanda’s waiting arms. She lies her head directly on Wanda’s chest as she struggles to breathe. Feeling Wanda’s warm skin against her arms and chest, calms Bunny considerably. The ache in her head is at the forefront of her mind but she tries to push it down.

“Mama,” Bunny hwimpers and Natasha shushes her from behind. “Mommy.”

“We’re both here this time,” Ntasha assures her. Bunny continues to cry in theri arsm. When her breathing is back to normal, Natash ais the one to bring it up. “Bunny, how old are you right now?” She wonders if this is the right question as bunny stiffens.

“Sixteen,” Bunny answers.

“Do you feel sixteen?” Wanda tries again. There’s a silence as they wait for Bunny’s answer.

“I don’t know,” She’s panicking again. “I don’t know. I do but sometimes i feel younger. Like I need more.”

“More than what we’ve been giving you?” Natasha guesses and Bunny nods. “I’m not mad. Mama isn't mad either. I found your breastfeeding articles.” Bunny begins to remove herself from Wanda’s arms but she’s stopped by Wanda’s tighter hold. “We’re not mad baby. We just want to understand you.”

“I’m sorry,” Bunny whimpers. “I made it weird. I’m weird.”

“You’re not weird,” Wanda frowns. “You’re not weird for wanting it either. Do you age regress?”

Bunny shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She answers in a small voice. “It’s not like how I’ve seen. I don’t know. I don't want to dress up like I’m younger or do all of those things I don’t know.” She can feel herself becoming worked up again. “I don’t need to. I just sometimes it makes me feel better.”

“What makes you feel better?” They’re allowing her to lead the conversation in whatever direction she needs to.

“Sucking my thumb,” Bunny confesses. “And my blanket, and Bunny II. I still feel like myself but younger. If that makes sense. I still am fifteen but I just need more.”

That makes perfect sense to them. She wanted to be nurtured and cared for. She needs that extra comfort sometimes. For some people, it was voluntary and involuntary for others. It seems that Bunny was more than aware of her feelings and what age regression looked like for her.

“By more, do you mean breastfeeding?” Wanda questions. She can see the look of embarrassment on Bunny’s face. “It’s okay if you do.”

“You won’t think I’m weird?” Bunny looks up at her with wide eyes. “You won’t send me away? I can stop. Being that way I mean.”

“If you stop will that help?” Natasha figures this coping mechanism has helped Bunny through a lot.

“No,” Bunny bites the inside of her cheek nervously. “I just… since I was younger I would feel different. Especially when I’m afraid. Like I needed someone to hold me and make me feel better. Like I need to be cared for. I do it on my own.” She wants to assure them that she isn’t asking for something they aren’t willing to give. She doesn’t need them to do anything.

“But what if you don’t have to,” Wanda prods.

“What do you mean?”

“Mommy and I were talking,” Wanda takes a breath. “And we would be willing if it's something you want. It could be our thing.”

“A secret?” Bunny questions.

“A good secret, Malyshka.” Natasha rubs her back.

Bunny goes over the pros and cons in her head. She’s been with Natasha and Wanda long enough to know they’re not joking. They’re being sincere. Someone finally knows how she’s feeling and she’s thinking about giving up the chance. She glances at Wanda’s chest before looking back into her eyes. She doesn’t want to make things awkward for her mothers.

“Can I think about it?” She asks.

“Of course.” Wanda kisses her forehead. She settles further into Wanda’s arms as she drifts off to sleep. She’s too afraid to think about it any longer.

Bunny’s home alone with Wanda when she feels it. A sudden wave of anxiety and depression hit her full force. She doesn’t feel good enough, or competent, or anything really. She finds herself thinking bad things. Deciding that she needs a distraction, she takes Bunny II along with her to find Wanda. She finds the redhead in her usual spot on the couch with her knees up as she reads a book.

“Mama,” Bunny stands against the back of the couch. Wanda closes her book to look at her. “Can we?” She asks. Another wave of anxiety hit her. She’s afraid of Wanda’s answer. Wanda doesn’t need to ask what she’s talking about as she places her book on the coffee table. With a wave of her hand, she gestures for Bunny to come around the couch and lie with her. The positioning is awkward until finally, Wanda decides to lie on her back, with Bunny in her arms. She starts by pushing up her t-shirt. As if Bunny can feel the nerves from her, the girl moves to get up.

“No, stay, baby,” Wanda encourages. She lifts her t-shirt further up to expose her breasts. Bunny’s eyes immediately drop to look. “You want this?” Wanda asks one last time and Wanda nods. She could do this. With her left hand, she guides Bunny’s head to her chest. She uses her other hand to guide her dusky nipple to closed lips. Bunny’s nervous. She can tell. “It’s okay, baby.”

Bunny’s lips part, giving an experimental lick before she gently takes the entire bud into her mouth. She suckles weakly, at first, trying to get a feel of it for herself. When she finds she’s more sated than she’s ever been, her suckling becomes stronger.

Wanda gasps at the sensations and emotions running through her. She’s never felt so close to or loved by her child before. Bunny, a bit startled by the noise, raises her hand to cover her face in embarrassment. Wanda doesn’t like this. She removes Bunny’s hand placing it in the valley between her breasts. She runs her fingers over Bunny’s cheeks and hair.

“Open your eyes, b.” Wanda waits patiently for thick lashes to flutter and for furrowed brows to straighten as Bunny looks at her. She only feels love as her baby girl looks at her completely satisfied and safe. “Good?” Wanda asks and Bunny nods. She never stops her suckling as she closes her eyes to fall asleep again.

Her feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and everything else were washed away by the comfort of her mother’s loving arms.

#sixteencandles #mama wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda x natasha #wandanat #teenreader #breastfeeding #fic #don't like don't read

91 notes · View notes

swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters · 1 month ago

Text

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.

49 notes · View notes

corralinesage · 2 months ago

Text

Portrait of a wounded heart (3/8)

CHAPTER 3 All night long

The book was mind-numbingly boring, or maybe it was the fact that you, quite frankly, had better things to do, better people to get to know than the ones in the provincial town of Middlemarch. Had Natasha been one of those people, you would have surely binged the book in five seconds total, but unfortunately that was not the case. You skipped paragraphs, skimmed through entire pages, all so that you would get faster to her, the book nearly flying out of your hands the second you finished the last sentence of the first chapter. You dug up your phone, opening a new chat and typing her name in it.

Y: First chapter down :)

You couldn’t believe it, you simply could not believe that you were texting her, texting the woman of your dreams. Oh, you wanted to scream, you wanted to run around your room, or jump up and down on your bed to release some of the exhilarating thrill that you felt, and then you wanted to scream some more when you saw that she had read your message. Your body was buzzing from anticipation as you waited patiently for what she was about to respond to you.

N: Good job! How are you liking it?

It really shouldn’t have had such a huge effect on you, but the sole fact that you were texting her was enough to make you lose your mind. Receiving praise of any kind was bound to make your heart gallop. You refrained from letting out a girly squeal and typed up your response instead after getting over the full-body wave of excitement, letting her know what you thought of the book, although you made sure not to say anything too negative in case it was a favorite book of hers or something of the sort.

N: You better hasten your pace if you want to finish it by morning. You’ve got another 85 chapters and a finale to get through.

Fuck. You stared blankly at the book on your bed, unable to grasp how it was even possible to fit that many chapters into a silly, little book. You knew it was long, but it was slowly starting to dawn on you just how long it was. You felt a wave of despair wash over you. There was no way you were ever going to finish it on time. You felt like crying, you were far too loaded up with intense emotions to be able to regulate yourself, and so, for a moment you just lay on your back and stared at the ceiling, contemplating your options, like any sane person, instead of actually doing something beneficial to accomplish your task. You wasted an unnecessarily long amount of time on everything else that you weren’t supposed to be doing, the uncomfortably intimidating task shadowing you like a whiny ghost that lacked attention. You organized your notes for art history, found yourself a snack from your poorly stocked cupboards, and wiped down your kitchen counters all the while you kept up a conversation with Natasha. Dozen minutes later, or –let’s be honest– maybe even an hour later, you were back to skimming through pages, trying your best to absorb any crucial information that you might have discussed in class the next day. It took you three whole hours to get to chapter 10. God, the book was unnecessarily long. By the time you turned the page to the last one of chapter 10 your eyelids were half-closed. All the characters and places were messed up in your head. You didn’t know who was who, or what was where. There were too many new names, too many relations, too much of everything. You wanted to give up, you really did, you even told Natasha that you were going to fail the assignment, clambering up from your bed as you waited for her to respond to your pathetic whining. You headed for your small kitchen once again, switching your coffee maker on despite the fact that caffeine had lost its kick on you long ago. It would do nothing to keep you awake, but at least you would get an excuse to have a large mug of warm coffee with additional toppings that you chose to hopefully make yourself feel better. You squeezed some caramel sauce on the inside of the mug before adding the steaming coffee on top, you stirred it briefly, hearing a soft ping from your phone. You didn’t even try to resist checking her message, a smile finding your lips at the sight of her name on the screen.

N: You are not giving up, not if I have a say in it.

You felt warm again, your sorrow subsiding for just a moment. You poured some milk into your cup to fill it to the brim, searching for a comforting snack to get you through the hours of reading you had ahead of you, settling for crunchy pretzel bites to ease your hunger. The kitchen flashed with blue light, the soft pitter-patter of rain that sounded from the windowsill soon accompanied by thunder. It was still raining, and it seemed that the storm would only be getting stronger if the harsh wind was anything to go by. The building you lived in was old, wind howling outside, clattering things around. As much as you hated your poor plumbing and fickle heating system, the house did have a few very aesthetic, comforting features that soothed your artistic soul. You returned into your room with a small smile on your face, sipping on the creamy coffee on your way, the scalding drink burning your tongue. You sat back down on your bed, placing your mug on the bedside table before finally responding to her message.

Y: Come on Nat. There’s just no way. I’ve barely read an eighth of the book.

N: Call me.

Y: What?

N: Call me, sweetheart. I’ll tell you the story.

You froze completely, staring at the screen with your jaw hanging on the floor, eyes fixed on the endearment. You glanced at the time, unable to understand what could’ve possibly prompted her to suggest anything of the sort to you at two in the morning. What did she do for a living to not only be up and awake at such an hour but also willing to call someone to talk about English literature? Your finger trembled slightly, heart skipping a beat from nerves as you hovered your thumb over the call-button. Was she being serious, or was she just messing with you? Would you dare to call her? Without giving yourself the chance to hesitate for any longer you dialed her number, squinting your eyes shut as you waited for the telltale ring of the phone to sound. It came only once before you heard her pick up.

“Hi, krasotka.” Her voice was smooth, silky, the words sounding right in your ear, your gut churning with butterflies. You felt breathless, flustered by how intimate the entire situation felt.

“Hi.” You nearly gasped the greeting, somehow unable to believe that she had even picked up the phone. You felt your heartbeat accelerate, your mouth drying up from more than just the salty pretzel snacks. “What are you doing?” You sounded dumber than you had intended to, silently cursing yourself in your head for your awkwardness.

“What am I doing?” She repeated the question as if wishing to tease you a bit.

“Yeah, you know, up at 2 AM, and all that.” You tried to save it by sounding less like you were accusing her of something.

“Well, I’m telling a story to a pretty girl”, she hummed, clearly amused by your shock. You laughed out of nerves, your fingers finding your sheets to fiddle with the fabric. She was going to be the death of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m more than sure. She’s pretty as a picture.” You went completely silent, unable to find a response to her words. She was unabashedly flirting with you.

“N-no, I meant that… that- Are you sure you want to spend your night like this?” It was almost starting to sound like you were the one who didn’t want her to spend her night with you. “Just that I don’t wanna interrupt anything.” You butted in quickly before she had the chance to get the wrong idea.

“Don’t worry, milaya, I have nothing better to do.” It was hard to believe that a woman like her had nothing on her schedule, but you would’ve been lying had you said that you weren’t pleased to know that she was choosing to spend even more time with you that day.

“Well, in that case… Tell me all about Middlemarch. I was just reading about Dorothea getting married to that grandpa”, you said, trying to bite back your smile so she wouldn’t be able to hear it through the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Casaubon. Dorothea was yet another victim of daddy issues”, she said jokingly. “This is gonna be a bit of a ride. I hope you’re taking notes.” You were in fact not because all you could focus on was how low and velvety her voice was. “So, as you know, Dorothea is very headstrong. She’s religious and thirsty for knowledge. She marries Mr. Casaubon over Sir James in the hopes of broadening her intellectual horizons.” She chuckled softly at herself, her tone insinuating that Dorothea’s dreams might have not come true after all. “The Vincys are another family that the book is centered around. There’s Mr. and Mrs. Vincy, Fred –lazy kid– and Rosamond, who’s the girl that everyone wants. She’s dainty and very ladylike, a girly girl if you will.” At first you found it more than difficult to follow along with what she was saying because a huge part of your attention was stolen away by the sound of her voice. It was rather surprising how much you could learn about a person just by listening to their voice. You could not help getting hung up on little details, noting each little inflection in her tone and style of speech, wishing to memorize the rasp of her voice, the way it sometimes squeaked a little as if breaking from exertion. Sometimes she would chuckle or even laugh, the gorgeous melody sounding right next to your ear as you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling with a huge grin on your face. “At this point we already know that Will Ladislaw and Dorothea have chemistry.”

“Wait, who's Ladislaw again? Wasn’t he the doctor they shit-talked?” She laughed again, the gesture somehow coming off as affectionate, your heart soaring at the sound of her beautiful laughter.

“No, honey, Ladislaw is the artist. Mr. Lydgate is the doctor, and he marries Rosamond Vincy”, she reminded you again, her smile audible.

“And will they end up together, Ladislaw and Dorothea?”

“You’ll just have to listen to my story and find out.” You couldn’t help but to grin so widely that your cheeks hurt. There was something about the way she spoke to you, the way she treated you that made your insides melt. She was gentle, but assertive with a hint of playfulness to her. She made you want to hear more, to learn more, so, you listened. You listened and listened, clutching a pillow to your chest as she told you the unfolding of events in her own style, allowing you to state any questions that might have arisen along the way. There was a lot of talk about money and class, marriages and relations, so much so that it was sometimes hard to keep up, especially when more characters were introduced, but she did her best to include small reminders like monikers and titles to help you follow along. “After the fight they have, Mr. Casaubon ends up having a heart attack and later on dies, which is when we learn about his will that says if Dorothea is to marry Will Ladislaw, she is to lose her entire inheritance.”

“No! I wanted them to end up together”, you gasped, nearly bouncing up from the bed.

“I know, me too”, she lamented, a soft sigh sounding from the other end of the line.

“That’s it? She has to choose between going broke or being with the one she loves?”

“Not exactly because as of now, Dorothea doesn’t think of Will that way and she is appalled by her husband’s lack of trust in her”, she explained, continuing on with the story, filling you in on the lives of all the characters involved in the current events of the book, giving you insight on what each of them thought about the situation. You noticed yourself fall into the world of Middlemarch, getting thoroughly invested in the characters that had seemed so plain and boring at first glance. Natasha had a way of describing people and events, she knew how to word things eloquently, the story falling from her lips like she knew it by heart, like she would have been reading an abridged version of it to you. It made you wonder why the book meant so much to her because there was nothing she could say anymore to convince you otherwise. There was a connection between her and the book, something that spoke to her personally, something that created emotional value. You would have wanted to know the story behind her and Middlemarch, but you didn’t dare to disturb her. “They solve the money affairs, and Dorothea offers to pay Lydgate’s debt to Bulstrode. She goes over to the Lydgates to bring the check, but she ends up finding Will Ladislaw there with Rosamond.”

“What? Wha- what- Doing what?” Natasha chuckled at your question and the obvious disbelief in your tone, pleased to know that you weren’t just following along to the story, but you were also entertained by her manner of retelling.

“Holding hands.” You gasped, the sound followed by yet another discreet laugh from her.

“How dare they? Might as well show him her ankles too!” You couldn’t help the wide grin that found your lips when you heard that your comment only prolonged that wonderful, melodic sound of laughter that came from her.

“I know, right? Rather scandalous if you ask me. However, this sends Dorothea into a fit of internalized rage which later on comes out in hours’ worth of crying.”

“Feels a bit dramatic. I mean it’s just hands”, you reasoned quietly, although you had no room to judge, not when you had cried over a stranger you had fallen in love with at first glance. “Couldn’t they have talked it through?”

“I get it”, she hummed, somehow in an even softer tone than before. “Hands are intimate. You do everything with your hands. You connect to the world around you through your hands. You feel, you touch, you leave a mark. I wouldn’t let just anyone hold mine.”

“Oh… when you put it like that. Yeah… yeah.” You both sat in silence for a while, in a comfortable, serene silence that could only be found in the middle of the night before she spoke again.

“If I saw the very hands that were meant to touch me, hold me, love me, in someone else’s…” She didn’t finish the sentence, failing to find words adequate enough to describe the feeling. “I don’t blame Dorothea in the slightest.” You thought about her hands, recalling the way she had held yours when she had smelled your wrist. Her touch had been gentle, delicate, so intimate especially when you looked back on the memory with the new information you had just acquired. You could tell she felt deeply. She was soulful, someone who understood sentiment, someone who perhaps saw more than others. “There were two living forms that tore her heart in two.” Her tone shifted, turning more formal. “As if it had been the heart of a mother who seems to see her child divided by the sword.” You realized that she was reciting the book, reading a passage to you, or maybe even voicing it from memory. “And presses one bleeding half to her breast while her gaze goes forth in agony towards the half which is carried away by the lying woman that has never known the mother’s pang.” The line went silent again for just a moment. “That’s how she describes it.” You didn’t know how to respond, the heaviness of her words taking up all the space in your cozy bedroom as you went over the passage in your head. You would have to actually read the book after your assignment was over so that you could give it the time and energy it needed –required.

“That’s beautiful”, you whispered after a while, feeling in awe of the sense of vulnerability that she had created. “Kind of gut-wrenching”, you admitted softly, hearing her hum in agreement.

“It’s a good book. Hopefully you’ll get the chance to actually read it sometime.” She was moving at the other end of the line, quiet rustling sounding through the phone.

“I will. I’ll make sure to read each and every word.” You wanted to promise it to her, you wanted her to know how much you valued not only the book but also her willingness to share her thoughts on it with you. “It’s a shame you have to spoil it for me.” She chuckled.

“A shame indeed. Do you have an assignment due tomorrow?” She asked.

“Oh no, tomorrow is class discussion and then I’ll have to write a small essay on a topic of choice”, you explained, hiding your yawn by moving the phone away from you as you rubbed your eye, your blurry vision making you feel like you were going partially blind from how tired you were.

“Well, in that case, I’d say you’re doing okay so far.” You huffed softly at her comment.

“I just wish I had more time, but I have three other assignments due next week, so this one will most likely end up being generic crap that the professor has heard a thousand times before.” It was not typical of you to feel bad about poorly done assignments, but the Middlemarch assignment had suddenly acquired a whole new meaning to it. You had someone much more important to impress with your work. You wanted Natasha to know that you were good at what you did. You wanted her approval more than you wanted your professor’s. You wanted to discuss the book with her, you wanted her to think that you had good opinions, that you were smart.

“Are you free tomorrow?” You struggled to process her words in your tired brain, trying to recall your schedule for the following day.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Come to the library after your lecture. We can write the assignment together. I’ll bring coffee.” You paused completely. Had she dived into your brain and dug through your daydreams? There was no way she didn’t know all the stupid fantasies you had of her. It couldn’t just be coincidence, but how could she possibly know when the only person aware of the things you dreamed of was you?

“My lecture is pretty early though. It ends at 11:45. If you have work or something…” You wanted to know what she did with her time, if she had a career of some sorts, but to your dismay she hadn’t said a word about any possible profession or studies. She was still a huge mystery to you.

“I’ll be there. How do you want your coffee?”

“Hmm, surprise me.” You smirked a bit groggily, adjusting your position to get more comfortable, the phone screen that was pressed to your cheek burning up from the length of the call. You were sure your battery wasn’t far from running out. “So how does the story end?”

And so, she continued spoiling the ending for you, finishing her retelling with a happy and satisfactory ending, at least in your opinion. You yawned quietly, nuzzling into your sheets, so comforted by the warmth they provided you, her soothing voice right by your ear, your eyes shutting on their own, the large mug of coffee you had consumed hours ago doing nothing to keep you awake. The world went quiet, silent, even the little sounds of the early morning, the pitter-patter of rain, the wind, the creaking of the old house, fading into oblivion as sleep took you, swallowing you whole into the dark abyss of dreamland.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice sounded from the other end of the line, but you didn’t budge. “Y/N?” She tried again but heard no response. She waited for a moment longer, an affectionate smile playing on her lips as she listened to your even breathing. “Good night, krasotka”, she whispered eventually when no answer came, ending the call right before the clock had the chance to strike six in the morning.

A/N: I just posted another chapter of my smut collection that is a sequel to this story on my ao3!

23 notes · View notes