Warnings: Angst, mention of abuse, mention of rape
A/U: Hello! This is my very first Natasha Romanoff short story, if you would like me to write your prompt just hit me up! Hope you are going to enjoy this.
A snow was quietly falling on your porch, but that did not bother you at all. You loved the Winter season, you loved the Holidays and so did your small girl.
A small blond girl was putting away her last toy with a huge yawn on her face.
„Alright, dove, it's past your bedtime. Let's get you to bed.” You pick her up as the four year old raises her hands towards you. „You are getting heavier every day, I swear!” You tickle her a little as you are taking her upstairs to her room. She giggles while you are putting her into the bed, tucking her in and then kissing her forehead. You cross the room to put the small light into the socket.
„Wait, mama…” She stops you, knowing very well that light in the socket means sleepy time.
„What is it, dove?” You look at her with a small smile as you cross the room to her bed.
„What about a bedtime story?” She looks at you with large puppy eyes.
„It's already really late, Lia.” You check the clock in the hallway, which is showing something before quarter to ten.
„Pretty pleasee….” She begs you.
You roll your eyes. „Okay, okay...But scooch over, I'm not sitting on the floor this time.” You jump into her bed and let her snuggle up to you. „So which one are we telling today?”
„I want the one about the spy!” She exclaimed excitedly.
„Which one do you mean, dove?” You frown your brows, trying to remember which story it probably was.
„The one that had red hair!” She looks at you, almost hurt by your own words, that you could have forgotten about her favourite bedtime story.
You smile sadly at the small girl and nod. „I remember now.” You make yourself more comfortable in your daughter's bed. And as she snuggle up closer into your arms you are starting with the story, that is about a woman spy that was in love with a normal citizen, but this story has darker corners than you tell your daughter, this story is far far away from a love story and definitely does not end with a happy end like you tell your daughter.
You used to work as a recruit for a S.H.I.E.L.D, not that you were going for missions and stuff, but you were dealing with the important paperwork. So you often did get into contact with the higher level agents and sometimes even with the infamous Natasha Romanoff or Clint Barton. Agent Barton was your favourite kind of agent, he was funny, he always asked how you were doing, he was the exact opposite of Romanoff. You did not take it personally, how could you? She was dealing with danger on a daily basis and you understand the last thing that would have concerned her was how was your day going. But you don't even know when it happened when she was bringing you the folders of reports from her mission with a smug smile on her face and she never forgot to wish you a nice day when she left your office. But it was just that, nothing else.
And when all the shit fell on your head and you were on your lowest point she was actually the one who noticed. She noticed that you were no longer having lunch with your colleagues, that you were no longer wishing everyone to have a great day and giving them the warmest smile. You started to fade.
A huge pile of papers suddenly falls onto your desk with a loud slap. You quickly jump in your seat, looking up at the smile of agent Romanoff, that just got back with her reports from her mission in Europe. There was an ugly bruise on her cheek and a gash wound on her forehead, but she was still smiling down at you, until she noticed how much your hands were shaking. „Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-...”
„It's alright, it's alright.” You quickly snap out, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. „Thank you for the reports, agent. I will work it on it later.” You don't even look her in the eyes, as you can feel a stinging tear forming at the corner of your eye, so you turn on your computer, trying to look really busy.
She stays in your office for a bit longer that she should, taking all in your whole body language. She knew something was off, she just couldn't figure out what.
You were so glad when the clocks finally showed four in the afternoon and you had left your office and tried to get home quickly while the sun was still up.
No one knew what happened to you, when you stayed out longer than usual the last time. As you close the door behind yourself, you can feel the panic attack slowly building up, somewhere in your chest as your breath became shorter. You are quickly trying to think of the breath exercise your therapist told you about, but your thoughts are too far away now. There was no turning back this time. That's why you sit down on the floor, in the middle of hallway in your apartment, tears slowly streaming down your face and your breath having trouble producing the oxygen you need.
You were back. It was dark, but you could have seen the street lamps. You were out of breath, you were chased. But you knew you were almost home. It was just one block away, if you were a bit quicker, you could have been alright. But you ran into the trap, he outrun you. You were caught. Trapped like a mouse, unable to do something. He was just stronger and you had to wait, you were ruined. You stayed on the cold ground when he was done, unable to move, tears were streaming down your face, shaking.
There was a ring at your door, but you haven't heard it, because in that moment you are far far away in your thought, living the horrible moment over and over again. But what brought you back to reality was a key in your door, unlocking them. In that moment you were just staring at the door in horror, it had to be him, he came for you again, you thought.
The door slightly opened. „Y/N?” A quiet voice echoed through your apartment.
You were still too paralized to being able to answer, you just stared at the door when she opened them fully. „I found your spare key, I felt like checking up on-... Oh god, Y/N, are you okay?” She rushes right next to you, when she notices your small frame shaking on your own floor. „Did you fell? Are you hurt?” She checks your whole body, but you just shake your head, unable to speak out, because you knew you would start crying if you just try. „Okay, good, good… I'm so sorry that I barged in here like that, but I just felt something was off with you lately…” But she doesn't continue, she can see what state you are in, of course something is off, someone should have checked up on you a long time ago. „What happened?” She whispers into the dark. „Did someone… hurt you?” She asks carefully, but that question just brings more chills into your body and you are bursting out crying, falling into her arms, shaking. She doesn't ask anymore, she just holds you really close, strokes your hair and lets you cry through her shirt. „I've got you now. You are safe.” She repeats quietly over and over, until you don't have any more tears to shed and you have to tell her. So you do. You tell her everything, what he has done to you and that now you are carrying his baby. And she listens, she doesn't interrupt you, she holds your hand when you need her to. And then you cry again, finding more salty fluid in your eyes, that once again soaks her shirt through, until you fall asleep in her arms.
And after that night, she never really left, she was always around, she helped you heal. Even when she was gone on her missions, she made sure you had everything you needed, and as she was here for you, you were here for her, you were there after really bad missions with opened arms and baby bumps to snuggle to. At those nights you were the one who stroked her hair and let her fall asleep in your arms.
But all this got messed up really quickly again, you were almost due, when Thanos and the snap happened. And unfortunately for Natasha, you were snapped away.
And when you came back, everything you knew was gone. Natasha was gone. But this time you had no one's shirt to cry into. This time you were alone.
You had to run, everything around you was just too much, you saw her everywhere. Barton helped you move to Europe, even though you were due in a couple of weeks. He helped with everything, maybe he felt guilty, even though he never really told you what happened to her.
But then you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she was no longer something that would remind you of the horrible events, she was just your little baby. And suddenly you weren't alone. And as she cried in your arms you whispered those words to her: „I've got you now. You are safe.”
But this story wasn't for your daughters ears, not yet. She will know one day, but this time the story end well. And you whisper: „And they lived happily ever after.” You look down at the sleeping blond girl. You have to be really careful when you are getting up, trying not to wake her up. Then you tuck her in and kiss her forehead: „Goodnight, my sweet, Natalia.”
snowghoul
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