Summary: Natasha is tasked with getting you into bed, Wanda and Natasha get you to sleep, but you wake them up later in need of comfort
Written: May 7th 2026
WC: 1079
Wanda and Natasha were infiltrating an abandoned widows nest when they found you. Scared, alone, and way too skinny for a kid your age. They took you back to the compound with them, and after two weeks of fighting tooth and nail with everyone on the team, it was decided that you would stay there with them.
That was over three months ago now, and you were thriving…For the most part. You were feisty, mentally still trapped in that widow's nest.
You were just five years old, and already the world had shown you how cruel it was.
Natasha and Wanda decided that they would be the ones to take care of you – Well, you did. They were the first faces you saw after months of solitude, and with your past, men weren’t exactly on the table.
It was 10pm now, Natasha was assigned bedtime duty. She’d managed to get you into pajamas, but after that you’d started putting up a fight. Now you were in the living room, standing against the TV stand in the dark, a dirty stuffed animal clutched to your chest as you glared at her from across the room.
Natasha stood against the doorframe – The only exit in the room. Her arms were crossed, and the faintest hint of a smile curled her lips.
“You’re tired, malyshka, just come to bed” She said quietly, raising her eyebrows at you.
You hugged your bunny tighter, stomping your foot. “No!”
Natasha only laughed, pushing herself off the doorframe and walking over to you. She crouched down in front of you, gaze sweeping over your form. She wasn’t good at this – The whole parenting thing. Especially not with a little one like you.
“You know, bunny needs to sleep too…” She started, pressing her lips together trying to gauge your reaction “Don’t you think he looks a bit sleepy?”
You huffed, your eyebrows unfurrowing. Natasha could see the gears turning in your head. Then, much to her surprise, you nodded.
She smiled, standing up “Okay” Her hand reached down for yours, waiting patiently for you to take it. When you did she gave it a gentle squeeze, walking you towards your bedroom.
You didn’t make it there, just as Natasha opened the door, you took off running, bare feet slapping the polished floors with the force of a baby elephant.
She dropped her head, defeated. Wanda never said it would be this hard. She followed you, walking down the hallway listening for your footsteps.
You were in the common room when she found you. Frozen in the archway. Everyone was there, watching a movie. Though most of their attention was on the little one standing in front of them.
“There you are,” Natasha murmured, reaching down to try and take your hand again.
You turned, wrapping your arms around her thighs and squeezing. Hard enough she almost lost her balance.
None of the avengers said anything, some of them looked uncomfortable – The last time they had an interaction like this when Wanda nor Natasha was present you’d had a meltdown and threw some hands.
Natasha picked you up, her arms holding you close against her. Your hands clutched the fabric of your shirt, your face buried in the crook of her neck.
She didn’t say anything to the team, leaving without a word and taking you back to your room. She made a stop in the kitchen, preparing you a bottle. Your room was warmer than the rest of the building, and fluorescent lamps lit the area around your bed.
“Alright, detka” Natasha murmured as she peeled you off, setting you down on the bed “Lets get you tucked in,”
She threw the blanket over your legs, waiting for you to lay down.
“Bottle” You said, reaching out for it.
Natasha looked at the bottle in her hand, handing it to you silently. You glared at her as you drank, laying yourself down, and pulling the blanket up to your waist.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the air vent and the sound of the bottle squeaking. Then, the door creaked open, you shot up, your entire body tensing.
“It’s okay” Natasha muttered, already knowing who was there, she placed her hand on your arm “It’s just Wanda, you can lay back down”
You didn’t listen, waiting until Wanda spoke – You had to make sure it was really her, and not someone else in disguise.
“How’s it going?” Wanda said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Natasha gave her a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Wanda smiled, tucking the blanket around your legs.
“Were you good for Natty?” She asked, reaching up to adjust your bunny, which was tucked closely to your side.
“We ran around a little bit” Natasha said when you didn’t respond.
“You must be pretty tired now, huh?” Wanda cooed at you.
You nodded.
Natasha and Wanda stayed by your side until you fell asleep, leaving to go to their own bedroom right across from yours.
You slept for most of the night, a rare occurrence. It was 6am when their bedroom door creaked open and you came in, tears streaming down your face.
Natasha woke up first, reaching over Wanda to turn on the bedside lamp, waking her up in the process.
“Hey, detka,” Natasha said, rubbing her eyes “Feeling okay?”
You didn’t respond, crawling into the bed in between the two women, soft whimpers escaping you as you cried.
Wanda reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
You jerked away, curling into Natasha's side. She wrapped an arm around you, looking at Wanda with wide eyes. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe with us” She whispered, rubbing your back. Wanda shuffled closer, tugging the blanket up over you.
“We’ve got you, baby” She said against your ear, nails trailing up and down your arm. “Nothing is going to hurt you, just breathe”
You pressed yourself harder against Natasha, like you were trying to merge your body with hers.
“Shhhh” Wanda cooed, glancing briefly up to Natasha when you began to calm down.
“We’re right here, little one” Natasha murmured “Not going anywhere”
It took you a few minutes to fully calm down, Wanda kept trailing her fingertips over your skin, and Natasha held you through all of it.
You fell asleep pressed between them, feeling warm, safe, and loved – Things you would never have to question again.
Summary: The journey to the coastal safehouse takes a sweet but unbearable turn for Yelena, who finds herself trapped in a car with Wanda and Y/N’s relentless, domestic pining.
Words: 9k+
Warnings: Canon-typical violence and blood, Angsty, Heavy pining, domestic fluff.
A/N: Sorry everybody in took me a long time to update this one. Hope you’ll all enjoy it.
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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---
Yelena's POV
The road stretched endlessly beneath a bright blue sky, winding through forests that slowly gave way to rolling hills. According to the map on the dashboard, they were only two days away from the old coastal safehouse.
If nothing went wrong.
Which, considering her life, probably meant something would.
Yelena rested one hand lazily on the steering wheel while the radio played quietly in the background. Beside her, Wanda sat unusually peacefully, one elbow resting against the window.
For the fifth time in the last ten minutes...She looked into the backseat.
Y/N was asleep. One arm was tucked behind her head while the other rested across her stomach. Her head leaned against the window, hair falling over her forehead, completely unaware that someone had been staring at her for the past hour.
Wanda smiled. Again.
Yelena watched the reflection in the windshield. There it was. That stupid smile. Then Wanda quietly looked back out the window.
Thirty seconds later...She looked back again. Still asleep. Another tiny smile.
Yelena made a face. She'd enjoyed teasing them before. Back when they were both hopeless idiots dancing around each other.
Now?
Now they were just...Sweet. Unbearably sweet. Every time Y/N reached for something, Wanda handed it to her before she asked. Every time Wanda shifted in her seat, Y/N instinctively adjusted the air conditioning without looking away from the road. Every time one of them laughed...The other looked like they'd personally invented happiness.
It was annoying. Cute, sure. But annoying. Yelena physically shuddered.
"I miss when you were both emotionally constipated."
Wanda looked over. "...What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't even know what that means."
"It means this." Yelena gestured dramatically between Wanda and the sleeping wolf in the back. "All this..." She waved both hands. "The smiling."
Wanda blinked innocently. "What smiling?"
"The smiling you keep doing."
"I haven't smiled."
"You smiled three seconds ago."
"I did not."
"You looked at sleeping beauty back there and smiled like you were in romance movie."
Wanda's ears turned pink. "I wasn't—"
"You were."
"I just looked."
"Mhm."
"I did."
"You looked lovingly."
"I did not look lovingly!"
Yelena sighed dramatically. "This is exhausting."
Wanda crossed her arms, trying very hard not to smile again. It lasted exactly twenty seconds. Then she glanced back once more. Y/N had shifted slightly in her sleep, brows furrowing before relaxing again. Wanda's entire expression softened.
Yelena let out the loudest groan she'd made all week. "Oh my god."
"What?"
"You did it again."
"I didn't even—"
"You looked at her like she is baby deer."
"I was making sure she was comfortable."
"You are proving my point."
Wanda huffed. "I can't win with you."
"No."
Yelena looked ahead. Then suddenly spotted a weathered sign beside the highway.
DINER — NEXT EXIT
Perfect. She flicked on the turn signal. "We're stopping."
Wanda looked over. "Why?"
"Because if I spend another hour watching you two make heart eyes at each other, I will intentionally crash this car."
"I don't—"
"No."
Yelena pulled into the gravel parking lot before Wanda could finish defending herself.
The diner looked like it had been standing there since the seventies. A faded red sign hung crookedly above the entrance, and three pickup trucks were parked outside.
Yelena killed the engine. "Let's go eat."
The sudden silence woke Y/N immediately. Golden eyes snapped open. She looked around once. Twice. Then focused on the front seats. "...Did something happen?"
"No," Yelena answered while already climbing out. "I'm hungry." She slammed the door behind her and marched toward the entrance.
Y/N watched her disappear through the glass doors. "...Is she upset?"
Wanda climbed out of the passenger seat just as Y/N stepped onto the gravel beside her. "I don't know."
Y/N frowned slightly toward the diner. "She sounded grumpy."
"I noticed."
Y/N closed the car door before looking toward Wanda. "...Did I do something?"
"I don't think so."
Before Wanda could say anything else, she found herself gently pulled forward.
Y/N wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sliding carefully around her shoulders.
"Wha—"
A low, content rumble vibrated through Y/N's chest. The familiar purr.
Wanda laughed softly. "Someone's in a cuddly mood."
Instead of answering, Y/N leaned down and rubbed her nose gently against Wanda's cheek. A slow, affectionate nuzzle. The motion was so natural that it almost made Wanda forget they were standing in the middle of a parking lot.
She smiled helplessly.
"There you are..."
Y/N hummed happily, pulling her a little closer. "You smell nice."
"Thanks."
Another soft nuzzle. Wanda's cheeks warmed immediately. "You've become very affectionate."
Y/N blinked. "...Is that bad?"
"No." Wanda reached up, smoothing a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "It's very nice."
Y/N smiled. A real one. Not shy anymore. Not uncertain. Just... happy. She dipped her head again, brushing another tiny nuzzle against Wanda's temple before kissing the side of her forehead.
Wanda melted.
"I think," she murmured against Y/N's shoulder, "Yelena might actually kill us."
Inside the diner, Yelena happened to glance through the front window while waiting for the waitress. She froze. Outside...The giant wolf woman was nuzzling Wanda's face.
Again. And Wanda was smiling like an idiot again.
Yelena slowly closed her eyes. Then opened them. They were still doing it. She looked toward the ceiling. "Natasha," she muttered under her breath. "You owe me."
The elderly waitress approached with a warm smile. "Table for one?"
Yelena sighed. "...Unfortunately, three."
As if summoned by fate itself, the front door opened. Y/N held it open for Wanda. Of course she did. Wanda thanked her with another smile.
Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose. This was going to be the longest two days of her life. She followed the waitress to a booth near the window before sliding into one side with a quiet sigh. Reaching for the menu, she looked up as the waitress smiled.
“Coffee?”
“Please, three.”
The waitress nodded and disappeared toward the kitchen.
A moment later, Wanda and Y/N joined her. Y/N instinctively waited for Wanda to slide into the booth before taking the seat beside her. Yelena watched the entire thing happen and simply rolled her eyes.
Of course.
The waitress returned with three mugs of coffee, setting them down before leaving them to decide on breakfast. Silence settled over the table as everyone looked over their menus. After a minute, Y/N leaned a little closer to Wanda, angling her menu just enough for Wanda to see.
“They have blueberry pancakes.”
Wanda glanced to where Y/N was pointing, a small smile spreading across her face. “I see them.”
Y/N nodded once, looking quietly pleased she'd found them.
Across the table, Yelena looked between the two of them before shaking her head with an amused smile. “And there goes the lovesick smiles again.” Yelena comments.
Wanda groaned softly. “Just leave us alone Yelena!”
“I wish!” Yelena replied with a small shrug.
The waitress returned a few minutes later with a notepad tucked beneath her arm. “Ready to order?”
Wanda nodded. “I'll have the blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon.”
“I'll take the country breakfast,” Y/N said. “And... another side of pancakes.”
The waitress smiled as she scribbled everything down before looking at Yelena.
“The western omelet. Hash browns instead of fries.”
“I'll have that right out.”
She disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving the three of them with the smell of fresh coffee drifting through the diner.
Wanda wrapped both hands around her mug before looking at Yelena. “So... how much longer?”
Yelena thought for a moment before answering. “If the roads stay clear...” She took a sip of coffee. “Two more days.”
Wanda nodded. “And then?”
“We find the safehouse.”
“And hope Natasha is there.”
Yelena's expression softened slightly. “Yeah.”
“If she's not?”
“We figure out the next step.”
Y/N quietly listened while stirring cream into her coffee. “You think Hydra knows where we're going?”
Yelena shook her head. “No. But I still don't like staying anywhere too long.”
“We'll keep moving if we have to.”
Y/N nodded once. “I'll keep watch tonight.”
“You've kept watch every night,” Wanda reminded her.
“I know.”
“You need sleep too.”
“I sleep.”
“Wolf naps don't count.”
“They do.”
Yelena smirked into her coffee. “I am staying out of this one.”
A comfortable silence settled over the booth until the waitress returned, balancing three large plates on her arms. “Blueberry pancakes.” She placed Wanda's breakfast in front of her. “Western omelet.”
Yelena thanked her before reaching for the hot sauce.
“And the country breakfast.” The enormous plate landed in front of Y/N, piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast, and pancakes.
“I'll be right back with the extra pancakes.”
Y/N nodded politely. “Thank you.”
A minute later, the waitress returned with another plate stacked with fluffy pancakes. “There you go, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.”
Yelena looked from the second plate to Y/N. “...You know, I always forget how much you eat.”
Y/N glanced down at the table. “…This isn't that much.”
Wanda laughed softly. “It really is.”
“It is?”
“Mhm.”
Y/N looked genuinely unconvinced before picking up her fork.
Breakfast began quietly. The only sounds were forks against plates, coffee cups settling back onto saucers, and the low murmur of conversations from the other customers.
Halfway through her pancakes, Wanda noticed Y/N had already finished nearly all of her eggs and bacon. She cut off a small piece of pancake, dipped it into the blueberries and syrup, then held the fork toward Y/N without thinking.
“Here.”
Y/N looked over before immediately leaning in to take the bite.
“Mm.”
Wanda smiled. “Good?”
Y/N swallowed. “Very.”
A few minutes later, Wanda did it again, this time with a piece of bacon. Y/N accepted it just as naturally. Yelena watched over the rim of her coffee before quietly shaking her head. “I knew this was going to start.”
Wanda looked over. “What?”
Yelena only roll her eyes and say “Nothing.” But the smile on her lips betrays her.
Wanda roll her eyes back and reach for Y/N plate stealing one of the crispy bacon strips.
Y/N noticed immediately. “…You took my bacon.”
“I did.”
“You could've asked.”
“I knew you'd say yes.”
Y/N considered that for a moment before nodding. “…That's true.”
She simply took another strip from the untouched side plate she'd ordered.
By the time Yelena had finished her omelet, Y/N had already cleaned her first plate completely. Not a crumb remained.
The waitress happened to walk past just as Y/N pulled the second plate of pancakes closer.
“Oh, honey,” she said with an impressed smile. “I’ve never seen anybody eat that much!”
Y/N looked up. “I was hungry.”
“I can tell.”
The waitress laughed warmly before continuing on to another table.
Wanda watched with quiet amusement as Y/N finished the second stack of pancakes, then reached for the remaining bacon and eggs she'd ordered on the side.
“You really were hungry.”
“I slept well.”
“I've noticed.”
Within another few minutes, the second plate was just as clean as the first.
Yelena leaned back in her seat, looking at the two empty plates in front of Y/N. “…Where does it all go?”
Y/N looked down at herself. “I don't know.”
“The wolf,” Wanda answered with a smile.
Y/N nodded thoughtfully. “…Probably.”
Yelena couldn't help smiling. “I should've guessed.”
She picked up her coffee again, watching Wanda absentmindedly brush a smear of syrup from the corner of Y/N's mouth with her thumb before returning to her own breakfast as if she hadn't done anything unusual.
Yelena simply rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
Still ridiculous.
But... she supposed there were worse things than watching two people who'd finally found a little happiness after everything they'd survived.
---
Soon they were back on the road.
This time, Yelena insisted on driving again.
“I've had enough of being trapped in the backseat watching you two flirt,” she'd declared before tossing Y/N the keys to lock the car instead.
So Y/N sat in the passenger seat while Wanda settled into the back. It wasn't ideal. Every now and then, Y/N glanced into the rearview mirror just to check on Wanda. Every time their eyes met, Wanda smiled, and Y/N couldn't help smiling back before returning her attention to the road ahead.
Yelena noticed every single exchange.
She chose not to comment.
The day passed much like the ones before it. Long highways. Small towns. Forests gave way to open farmland before disappearing behind more stretches of empty road.
Around noon they stopped at another roadside diner for lunch before continuing south. A few hours later, they pulled into a gas station to fill the tank.
While Yelena paid for the fuel, Y/N disappeared into the convenience store. She emerged several minutes later carrying two bags absolutely overflowing with snacks.
Yelena looked at them, then at Y/N. “…Planning for winter?”
Y/N peeked inside one of the bags. “I got hungry.”
“You haven't stopped eating.”
“The wolf burns a lot of calories.”
“So apparently.”
The snacks disappeared surprisingly quickly over the next few hours. By the time dusk settled over the countryside, only a few empty wrappers remained on the floorboard beneath Y/N's seat.
The sun finally disappeared below the horizon just as another faded neon sign came into view.
MOTEL
DINER
VACANCY
Yelena let out a relieved sigh. “Finally.”
She pulled into the parking lot and switched off the engine.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Then, almost in unison, all three doors opened.
Yelena climbed out first, stretching both arms over her head until her back cracked. “Oh...” She rolled one shoulder. “I think I've been sitting for ten years.”
Behind her, Wanda stepped out more carefully, immediately stretching her legs before letting out a quiet groan. “I never want to see another highway.”
“You'll see one tomorrow.”
“…Don't remind me.”
Y/N rounded the front of the car carrying all three duffel bags over one shoulder as if they weighed nothing.
“You can give me mine,” Wanda offered.
“I've got it.”
“I know you do.”
Still, Wanda slipped closer anyway, leaning lightly against Y/N's side. Without even looking, Y/N's free arm settled naturally around her waist.
It happened so automatically neither of them seemed aware of it. Yelena noticed. She simply shook her head with a small smile before leading the way toward the diner attached to the motel.
Warm air and the smell of grilled food greeted them the moment they stepped inside. The diner was small but cozy, with only a handful of occupied booths. Country music drifted softly from an old radio somewhere behind the counter while a waitress welcomed them with a tired but friendly smile.
“Evening, folks.”
“Evening,” Yelena answered.
“Booth okay?”
“Perfect.”
She led them toward the back of the diner.
Yelena slid into one side while Wanda and Y/N took the other. Wanda barely made it halfway across the booth before leaning against Y/N again. Y/N shifted closer without interrupting her reading of the menu, one arm remaining loosely around Wanda's waist beneath the table.
Yelena watched them for a second before looking back at her own menu. “…Road trips are exhausting.”
“They are,” Wanda agreed. “I cannot wait to lie down.”
“You've been saying that since lunch.”
“Because I meant it since lunch.”
Wanda laughed softly. “I think we've all reached our limit.”
Y/N nodded. “I could sleep for a day.”
Yelena looked over. “You? Sleep?”
“I do sleep.”
“Barely.”
The waitress returned with her notepad. “What can I get you?”
Yelena ordered first. “The chicken fried steak.” Wanda chose the grilled chicken with vegetables. Y/N studied the menu another moment. “I'll have the ribeye.”
The waitress nodded. “Okay...”
Y/N glanced down once more. “And!…another ribeye.”
The waitress smiled surprised. “Coming right up.”
Once she left, the three of them settled into the comfortable silence that only came after spending an entire week together. No one felt the need to fill every quiet moment anymore. Sometimes simply existing together was enough.
Their food arrived surprisingly quickly. The waitress carefully distributed the heavy plates across the table.
“Need anything else?”
“We're good,” Wanda said with a smile.
“Just holler.”
The smell of grilled steak immediately filled the booth. Y/N thanked the waitress before cutting into the first ribeye.
For several minutes, the only sounds were cutlery against plates and the quiet conversations drifting from the rest of the diner.
Halfway through her first steak, Y/N suddenly stopped chewing. Her fork froze halfway to the plate.
A second later, the bell above the diner's entrance jingled. Three men walked inside. They looked like ordinary travelers. Work boots. Baseball caps. Dust-covered jackets. One of them laughed at something another had said.
The waitress greeted them with the same warm smile she'd given everyone else.
“Evening, gentlemen.”
“Table for three.”
“Right this way.”
She led them deeper into the diner before seating them in a booth three rows behind Yelena's.
Close. Too close.
Y/N's breathing slowed almost imperceptibly. She inhaled once through her nose.
Then again. The scent hit her all at once.
Gun oil.
Cheap aftershave.
Hydra.
Her muscles locked. Wanda felt it immediately. Y/N didn't look at the men again. Instead, she slowly turned toward Wanda.
Golden eyes met green.
Hydra.
The single thought brushed against Wanda's mind like ice. Wanda's expression didn't change. She simply looked across the table. Yelena was finishing the last of her juice.
Their eyes met.
Wanda gave the smallest nod.
Yelena didn't ask a single question. “…Got it.”
She calmly reached into her jacket and pulled out several folded bills—enough to cover dinner and leave a generous tip. She tucked them beneath her empty glass without drawing attention.
None of them looked toward the three men again.
None of them needed to. Because if Y/N recognized that scent...Then they'd already stayed one minute too long.
Yelena didn't rush. That was the first thing Wanda noticed. No sudden movements. No panic. She simply folded her napkin, stood from the booth, and slipped on her jacket. “Ready?”
Y/N rose first, her eyes never once drifting toward the three men behind them. Wanda stood beside her.
The waitress happened to pass by just as they reached the register.
“Everything alright?” she asked warmly.
Yelena smiled with practiced ease. “Food was great.”
“I'm glad to hear that.”
She tucked the cash beneath the receipt holder. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. Have a safe night.”
“You too.”
Nothing looked unusual. Nothing sounded unusual. Three tired travelers paying for dinner before checking into the motel.
Yelena pushed open the diner's door. Cold night air rushed over them. The parking lot stretched beneath buzzing neon lights.
Y/N immediately swept the area with one slow glance. Empty. Too empty.
“Car,” Yelena said quietly.
They didn't run. Running attracted attention. Instead, they walked briskly across the parking lot. Wanda climbed into the backseat, Y/N slid into the passenger seat, and Yelena was already starting the engine.
The SUV roared to life. She shifted into reverse. As they backed out of the parking space—The diner's front door burst open.
The three men stepped outside. One looked directly toward them. Another reached beneath his jacket.
“Go,” Y/N said.
Yelena didn't need to be told twice. The tires squealed across the asphalt as the SUV shot out of the motel parking lot and onto the highway.
For several seconds there was nothing.
Just darkness.
Headlights cutting through the empty road.
Y/N twisted in her seat, checking the passenger mirror. The motel was shrinking behind them. Then—Headlights.
Two vehicles exploded out of the motel entrance.
“They're coming,” Wanda said.
“I know,” Yelena answered calmly, pushing harder on the accelerator.
The engine growled.
Eighty. Ninety. One hundred.
The speedometer climbed relentlessly.
Behind them, the two SUVs matched every increase.
“They're gaining.”
“I see them.”
Yelena's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. The road ahead curved sharply through dense forest. She took it without touching the brakes.
The tires screamed.
The SUV leaned dangerously before gripping the pavement again.
Behind them, the first pursuing vehicle drifted wide before recovering.
“They're trained,” Y/N said quietly.
“I noticed.”
Gunfire shattered the night.
CRACK!
The rear windshield exploded inward. Glass showered across the backseat. Wanda ducked instinctively. Another shot punched through the tailgate.
“They're shooting!”
“You think?” Yelena barked.
She swerved violently left. Then right.
Another volley cracked through the darkness.
Bullets skipped across the asphalt. One struck the rear bumper.
The second SUV suddenly pulled into the opposite lane, trying to overtake.
“Oh, no you don't.”
Yelena jerked the wheel left, forcing the pursuing vehicle back behind them just before an oncoming truck thundered past.
The truck's horn blared.
The Hydra driver barely avoided a head-on collision.
“Nice.”
“Thank you.”
More gunfire. A bullet punched through the passenger-side mirror, exploding it into fragments.
Y/N didn't even flinch. “They're trying to disable us.”
“They're about to become my problem.”
Yelena took another hard corner before shouting, “Switch!”
Without hesitation, Y/N unbuckled. Wanda immediately grabbed the steering wheel with her magic from the backseat, keeping the SUV straight just long enough.
Yelena climbed halfway across the center console while Y/N slid behind the wheel in one smooth motion.
The transition took barely three seconds. Y/N caught the wheel.
Yelena was already hanging halfway out the passenger window. Wind whipped violently through her blonde hair as she drew one of her pistols.
“Little closer!”
Y/N understood immediately. She eased off the accelerator just enough.
The pursuing SUV closed the gap.
Closer.
Closer.
Yelena steadied herself against the roof.
“Perfect.”
BANG!
The first shot shattered the enemy's windshield.
BANG!
The second struck the front tire, exploding it. Rubber shredded across the highway. The SUV jerked violently sideways. Its driver fought for control.
Didn't get it.
The vehicle spun twice before smashing through the guardrail and tumbling down the embankment.
Yelena climbed back inside. “One down.”
She looked into the side mirror.
“…Ah.”
“What?”
“More.”
Headlights appeared over the hill behind them.
Not one. Three.
Then another.
“Oh, come on.”
Yelena slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol.
“How many people did you make angry?”
“I don't know,” Wanda answered.
Y/N's jaw tightened. “They've been waiting.”
The first of the new SUVs closed rapidly.
Then another. Four vehicles now, spread across both lanes.
Yelena cursed under her breath. “This is getting ridiculous.”
The nearest SUV pulled alongside them.
Its passenger rolled down the window.
Gun raised.
“Wanda!”
Scarlet energy erupted from the backseat. The red glow flooded the SUV. The entire vehicle lifted off the road as though grabbed by an invisible giant.
The Hydra agents inside had just enough time to scream. Then—The SUV flipped, crashing onto its roof before skidding across the highway in a shower of sparks.
The second vehicle swerved to avoid the wreck.
Wanda caught that one too. With a sharp motion of her hand, it rolled violently into the ditch.
Silence.
For exactly one second.
Yelena stared into the mirror. “…You could've done that earlier.”
“I was trying not to draw attention!”
“Little late for that!”
Before Wanda could answer, Y/N's instincts screamed.
“Left!”
A black SUV burst from a side road hidden by the trees.
It had been waiting.
The vehicle accelerated straight toward them.
“No—!”
CRASH!
The impact slammed into the driver's side with bone-rattling force.
Metal screamed. Glass exploded. The entire SUV spun violently across the highway.
Rubber screamed against the asphalt.
The driver's side slammed into the guardrail with enough force to fold steel inward. Glass exploded across the cabin as every airbag deployed at once, filling the vehicle with white fabric and the smell of burning propellant.
Wanda's head whipped sideways.
Crack.
Her temple slammed against the edge of the window before she was thrown into the opposite side of the backseat.
White flashed across her vision. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Only the ticking of the ruined engine echoed through the night.
Yelena was the first to react. “This is not a good way to die. You two okay?”
Wanda pushed herself upright with a groan, one hand immediately flying to the side of her head. Her fingers came away streaked with blood. The world tilted violently before settling again.
“...I'm fine,” she managed, though her voice sounded distant even to herself.
Y/N looked over immediately. “You're bleeding.”
Wanda blinked several times, trying to clear the ringing from her ears. “Just... hit my head.” She pressed harder against the cut, ignoring the throbbing behind her eyes.
“I'm okay.”
Y/N wasn't convinced. The words had barely left Wanda's mouth when blinding headlights flooded the highway.
One SUV screeched sideways in front of them. Another blocked the road behind, doors bursting open. Hydra agents poured onto the asphalt with military precision, rifles already raised.
“There!” one shouted. “Move!”
Yelena kicked her door open before the first shot was fired.
Gunfire erupted.
Bullets ripped through the windshield as everyone scattered from the vehicle.
Yelena hit the ground in a combat roll. Her pistol barked twice before she was fully upright. Two Hydra rifles spun from their owners' hands.
She never stopped moving.
A third soldier rounded the hood of the SUV. Yelena met him with the butt of her pistol, smashing it across his nose before driving a knife beneath his arm. The man collapsed.
Another replaced him instantly.
Hydra had learned. They didn't attack one at a time. They moved in coordinated pairs. Suppressing fire. Flanking positions. Communication. But Y/N charged anyway.
A baton crackled with blue electricity as one soldier swung toward her head. She ducked beneath it, seized his forearm, and snapped it across her knee.
The scream barely escaped before another rifle stock crashed into her ribs from behind.
She didn't even turn. Her elbow shot backward into the man's throat. He folded instantly.
Another agent rushed from the left. Y/N caught him by the tactical vest and hurled him straight into the windshield of the lead SUV. Glass burst outward in a glittering explosion.
Across the road, scarlet energy exploded through the darkness.
Wanda caught three rifles at once, wrenching them from Hydra's grip before spinning them into the trees. An agent lunged at her with a combat knife.
She sidestepped. The blade missed by inches.
Her magic wrapped around his ankle, slamming him headfirst into the pavement. Another fired from behind. Before Wanda could turn—Yelena shot the rifle from his hands.
“I've got your back!”
“Thanks!”
For several brutal minutes, the highway became chaos.
Gunfire.
Magic.
Flying bodies.
Sparks.
Shattered glass.
Then—Silence.
Eight Hydra agents lay unconscious across the road. Yelena lowered her pistol. “...That felt too easy.”
Almost immediately, engines roared through the darkness. More headlights.
Three.
No...
Four.
Y/N looked up first. “They're not finished.”
Black SUVs surrounded them. Doors opened and more Hydra soldiers stepped out.
Then two figures emerged from the final vehicle. Neither carried a weapon. Neither looked concerned. Both were enormous. Broad enough to block the open door behind them. Dark tactical armor covered their bodies from neck to boots. Their expressions remained perfectly blank.
Y/N's heartbeat slowed. “...Enhanced.”
One of the men smiled. Not confidently.
Hungrily.
He disappeared. Not literally. Just impossibly fast. One instant he stood thirty feet away. The next—His fist crashed into Y/N's guard with enough force to create a shockwave.
The impact blasted her off her feet.
She flew backward through the air, smashing completely across the hood of a wrecked SUV before hitting the pavement hard enough to leave cracks in the asphalt.
She rolled twice, then forced herself upright.
The enhanced soldier hadn't moved. He simply waited.
Y/N wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.
“...Strong.”
“So are you.”
He smiled again.
Then attacked. The road beneath them exploded as they collided. Every punch sounded like a car crash. Y/N landed three clean strikes to his ribs.
He barely reacted. His knee slammed into her stomach. The air exploded from her lungs. A backhand sent her skidding twenty feet across broken pavement.
She'd never been hit that hard. Not since Hydra.
Across the highway, the second enhanced soldier crashed straight through Wanda's telekinetic barrier. It shattered like glass.
“What—”
Wanda instinctively reached out again, scarlet magic flaring around both hands. A sharp spike of pain exploded behind her eyes. Her vision doubled just for an instant the spell faltered.
It was enough.
The enhanced soldier burst through the half-formed barrier before it could solidify. He caught her wrist and twisted.
Pain shot up her arm. Wanda tried to throw him backward, but another wave of dizziness hit her. The ringing in her ears grew louder, making it harder to focus her magic.
Scarlet energy flickered wildly instead of striking cleanly.
His fist crashed into her ribs.
Wanda cried out as she slammed into the side of the ruined SUV, leaving a deep dent in the metal.
“Wanda!”
Y/N lunged toward her but the first enhanced intercepted. His shoulder drove into Y/N's chest. She hit the ground. Before she could rise—a boot slammed into her ribs.
The enhanced wasn't trying to beat her. He was keeping her away from Wanda.
Behind them, Yelena fought desperately to keep the remaining Hydra soldiers off both of them, firing, reloading, and switching to knives whenever someone got too close.
“We're getting circled!”
Wanda staggered upright, one hand braced against the SUV. Blood continued to trickle from the cut on her temple, dripping onto her collar. Every heartbeat made the pounding inside her skull worse. She shook her head once, trying to clear the haze.
It didn't help. The concussion slowed everything. Her thoughts. Her reactions.
Even her magic.
Normally, she would've stopped him before he got within arm's reach. Tonight...She was always a fraction of a second too late.
The enhanced soldier closed the distance again. He caught her by the throat. Lifted her completely off the ground.
Scarlet magic erupted around his arm, but Wanda struggled to maintain her concentration through the dizziness. The energy surged unevenly instead of crushing him outright.
He slammed her into the SUV again. The impact sent another burst of agony through her head.
Stars exploded across her vision. Blood ran freely down the side of her face.
He pulled back his fist. Y/N saw it.
Saw Wanda's unfocused eyes. Saw the blood. Saw her struggle to even keep her magic steady. Saw the fist descending.
Something ancient inside her shattered.
The growl that erupted from her chest didn't sound human. It shook the trees. Hydra agents froze. Even the enhanced soldiers hesitated. Bones cracked. Muscles expanded. Dark fur burst through skin.
Within seconds, a massive wolf stood where Y/N had been. Golden eyes burned with pure fury. The wolf didn't roar. She attacked.
She hit the enhanced soldier like a freight train. Massive jaws crushed his armored shoulder. Steel folded between her teeth.
He screamed.
The wolf flung him nearly forty feet. He crashed through the windshield of his own SUV before the entire vehicle rolled onto its side.
The second enhanced charged. The wolf met him head-on. Claws tore through reinforced armor. He punched her ribs hard enough to splinter nearby asphalt.
She answered by driving him into the highway with both forepaws. The pavement collapsed beneath them. He tried to stand but she didn't let him.
Claws.
Teeth.
Another slam.
Again.
Again.
Again.
She fought like an animal protecting its mate. Not a soldier. Not an Avenger.
A wolf.
Every strike became more vicious than the last.
Nearby, Wanda forced herself onto one knee, clutching her side.
“Y...Y/N...”
One Hydra soldier hadn't joined the fight. He'd gone back to the SUV.
Carefully...He unlocked a reinforced case. Inside rested a long silver weapon covered in Hydra markings and glowing blue conduits.
Yelena's stomach dropped. “...Wanda.”
Wanda looked up. The barrel was already charging. “No...”
The soldier smiled. He wasn't aiming at the wolf. He was aiming behind her.
At Wanda.
The wolf couldn't see him.
“Y/N!” Wanda screamed.
The wolf turned, saw the weapon, then Wanda.
There wasn't even a moment's hesitation. She leapt. The blue spear erupted from the launcher.
It struck the wolf square in the chest.
The weapon didn't explode. It punched through. Clean through. The force carried the wolf backward several feet before she hit the ground.
Silence.
The wolf remained standing for one impossible second. Blood poured from both sides of the wound. A broken whine escaped her throat. Then her legs gave out.
As she collapsed, the transformation unraveled.
Fur disappeared. Bones shifted. Claws became trembling fingers.
Y/N lay motionless on the shattered highway. A gaping hole tore through the center of her chest.
“Wanda...” Yelena's voice broke.
Wanda didn't answer. She couldn't.
The world had narrowed to one impossible sight.
Y/N.
Still.
Bleeding.
Not breathing.
Something inside Wanda broke beyond repair. Scarlet energy exploded from her body with a force that split the highway apart. The night turned crimson.
Cars lifted into the air. Hydra soldiers screamed as invisible hands seized every one of them simultaneously. The enhanced soldiers fought against it.
It didn't matter.
With a single, grief-filled scream, Wanda unleashed everything. The shockwave tore across the highway. Every Hydra vehicle crumpled like paper.
The launcher was ripped apart atom by atom. The enhanced soldiers were hurled hundreds of feet into the darkness. The remaining agents slammed unconscious into trees, concrete barriers, and overturned wreckage.
When the red light finally faded...Nothing moved. Nothing except Wanda.
She was already on her knees beside Y/N, her hands shaking as they reached for the wound that no healing magic in the world should have been able to fix.
“No…” Her voice barely existed.
Scarlet energy poured frantically from her palms, wrapping around the gaping wound in Y/N's chest.
“Come on…”
The magic trembled violently.
“Come on…”
It wasn't working.
Blood continued to seep between her glowing fingers, warm against her skin.
“No, no, no…”
“Wanda.” Yelena's voice sounded distant.
Wanda didn't hear her. She pressed both hands harder over the wound as though she could physically hold Y/N together.
“Please…”
Her magic searched desperately for something to mend.
Broken ribs.
Torn muscle.
Collapsed lung.
The hole through Y/N's chest.
Every spell unraveled the moment it reached the wound, as though something was consuming the magic itself.
Yelena knelt beside them, breathing heavily from the fight. She glanced over her shoulder, pistol still raised as she scanned the dark highway for movement.
Nothing. Only wrecked vehicles. Unconscious Hydra soldiers. Smoke rising into the night.
She looked back at Wanda.
“…Wanda.”
Nothing.
“Wanda.”
Still nothing.
Yelena reached out, carefully placing a hand on Wanda's shoulder.
The witch flinched violently.
“Don't touch me.”
“Wanda.”
“I'm fixing her.”
Her voice cracked.
“I'm fixing her.”
Yelena's heart sank.
Because Wanda wasn't speaking to her anymore. She was pleading with herself. With her magic. With the universe. Anything that might be listening.
Scarlet energy intensified until it illuminated the entire highway. Wanda gritted her teeth.
“You heal,” she whispered to Y/N, tears falling onto her face. “You always heal.”
Nothing.
“You heal.”
Nothing.
“You promised me…”
Another desperate wave of magic surged into the wound.
It vanished like pouring water into an endless abyss.
Wanda's breathing became ragged. “No…”
Yelena's expression tightened. Something about the weapon...It wasn't just a projectile. It had done something else.
She stood abruptly. “I'll find it.”
Wanda didn't answer.
Yelena hurried toward the shattered remains of the launcher scattered across the road. Pieces of silver alloy still glowed faintly blue.
Nearby lay the soldier who had fired it. Still alive but barely conscious.
Yelena was beside him in an instant, grabbing him by the front of his tactical vest and dragging him upright.
“What was that weapon?”
The man laughed weakly. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “You... don't know…”
Yelena slammed him against the overturned SUV.
“What. Was. It.”
He smiled. “A... wolf killer.”
Yelena's blood ran cold.
“It stops…” He coughed violently. “…regeneration.”
“No.”
“It destroys…” Another cough. “The healing response…”
Yelena stared at him.
“No…”
The man laughed again. “…By morning…”
He never finished. His head rolled limply to one side.
Unconscious. Or dead.
Yelena didn't care.
She looked back toward Wanda.
Toward Y/N.
Toward the pool of blood slowly spreading across the broken highway.
“Wanda…”
The witch still hadn't moved. Her forehead rested against Y/N's.
“I'm here,” she whispered brokenly. “I'm right here.”
Another pulse of scarlet magic.
Another failure.
“You don't leave me.”
Silence.
“You hear me?”
Nothing.
“You don't get to leave me.”
Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. The blood on Y/N's chest refused to stop flowing.
Then—Almost too faint to hear...
A tiny hitch.
Not a breath.
Not quite.
More like...
A weak, wet gasp.
Wanda froze.
Her entire body went still.
“…Y/N?”
Another tiny sound escaped Y/N's lips. So faint it could have been imagined. But Wanda had heard it. Hope exploded through her chest so violently it almost hurt.
“Yelena!”
Yelena spun around immediately.
“What?”
“She's alive.”
Yelena was beside them in seconds. The two women held their breath. Several agonizing moments passed.
Then...
Another shallow, ragged breath.
Painfully weak. Barely enough to move Y/N's chest. But it was there.
Yelena let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
“She’s fighting.”
Wanda's tears fell freely as she gently cup Y/N's face with one hand while the other still pour her magic into Y/N chest.
“I know…” she whispered, her voice trembling with relief and terror all at once. “I know, my little wolf. Just keep fighting. I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”
---
Y/N's POV
Pain.
It was everywhere.
Not sharp. Not dull. Just... everywhere.
Every breath burned. Every heartbeat sent something warm spreading through her chest. She couldn't move. Couldn't open her eyes. Couldn't even tell if she was lying down or standing.
There was only darkness.
And voices.
"...Y/N..."
Wanda.
She knew that voice anywhere.
Soft. Shaking and crying.
Y/N tried to answer but nothing came out.
Her lips refused to move.
"...stay with me..." Another voice.
Further away.
"...we need to move, Wanda." Yelena.
"They'll send more."
"No."
Wanda's answer came immediately.
"I'm not leaving her."
"We're not leaving her."
A pause.
"We're taking her with us."
Y/N wanted to tell Wanda she was okay. Wanted to reassure her. But all she managed was a weak twitch of her fingers. Or maybe she imagined it.
Something warm squeezed her hand. Immediately.
Like Wanda had been holding it the entire time.
"I'm here," Wanda whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm right here."
Y/N tried to smile. She wasn't sure if she did. The darkness swallowed her again.
---
The next thing she knew...
Movement. Everything hurt. Every bump rattled through her body. The steady vibration beneath her told her she was in a vehicle.
The smell of gasoline.
Leather.
Blood.
The SUV.
Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. She forced them open. Only a sliver. The world was nothing but blurred lights streaking past the window.
"...Slow down!" Wanda shouted.
"I'm trying!" Yelena yelled back.
"They're behind us!"
The SUV suddenly jerked hard around a corner. Y/N's body slid several inches across the backseat despite the hands desperately trying to keep her still. Pain exploded through her chest.
A broken groan escaped her lips.
"...Ngh..."
Her eyes rolled back before she could stop them.
"Shit!"
Wanda caught her immediately.
"What the hell, Yelena?"
"There was a truck!"
"I don't care!"
"I'd rather not die tonight!"
"You almost killed her!"
"I almost killed all of us!"
Y/N barely understood the words. Everything sounded underwater. She felt warm hands press gently—but firmly—against the wound in her chest.
Gentle fingers brushed damp hair away from Y/N's forehead.
"We're almost there." A kiss touched her temple. "Stay with me."
Y/N tried.
God...
She tried.
But the darkness pulled harder. Everything disappeared again.
---
Cold.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Then...
Sheets. A mattress. The faint smell of old wood, medicine and rain.
Y/N groaned quietly.
"...Mm..."
Her eyelids fluttered open. Everything was blurry. The ceiling swayed strangely above her.
Where...
Where was she?
She inhaled instinctively. Trying to find something familiar.
Wanda.
Usually Wanda's scent grounded her immediately. But all she could smell was antiseptic.
Dust.
Old furniture and her own blood.
Confusion settled heavily in her chest. She blinked several times. Nothing came into focus.
"...W..."
Her throat hurt. She slowly turned her head. Just find an empty room and no signs of Wanda.
Her heartbeat spiked instantly.
Panic.
She pushed herself upright. The movement sent unbearable pain through her chest.
"...Ah..."
Her vision blackened around the edges.
No.
No, where—
"Wanda..."
Her voice barely came out. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The second her feet touched the floor…they gave out.
Y/N hit one knee hard against the wooden boards. Pain shot through her body but she didn't care.
"Wanda..."
She forced herself up using the bedside table. The room tilted violently. She stumbled into the wall.
Caught herself and kept moving.
Her hearing rang loudly. Somewhere nearby...
Voices.
Muffled.
Someone was talking. She couldn't make out the words. Only that people were there. She staggered toward the bedroom door, one hand pressed against the wall to keep herself upright.
Every step hurt. Every breath burned.
Her chest felt tightly wrapped beneath thick bandages.
She reached the hallway. The voices became clearer. Still distorted beneath the relentless ringing in her ears.
Another doorway. Light spilled through it. She stumbled toward it.
Almost there...She leaned against the frame—And froze.
Wanda.
Standing across the room talking to someone.
Yelena.
There was someone else too but Y/N didn't register who. All she saw was Wanda. Alive.
Before anyone could react—She lurched forward. Her legs completely gave out.
"Wanda..."
Wanda turned at the sound just in time to catch her.
Y/N practically collapsed into her arms.
"W-Whoa!"
Wanda wrapped both arms around her immediately before she hit the floor.
"Y/N!"
Y/N buried her face against Wanda's neck.
Frantically.
Desperately.
She inhaled over and over.
Finding her scent. Making sure it was real.
"You..." she whispered hoarsely, panic still evident in every word. "You're okay..."
Her nose brushed frantically along Wanda's neck, her shoulder, her hair.
Checking.
Confirming.
"You weren't..."
Another shaky breath.
"...hurt..."
Wanda's eyes immediately filled with tears.
"Oh, baby…”
Y/N clung tighter despite how badly it hurt.
"I couldn't..." Her breathing hitched. "I couldn't smell you..."
"I know."
"I thought..."
"I know."
Wanda carefully cradled the back of her head, tears already slipping down her cheeks.
"I'm okay."
Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her face.
Still blurry. Still doubled. She reached up with trembling fingers and cupped Wanda's cheek.
"...You're okay?"
"I'm okay."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Only then did some of the panic leave Y/N's body. Her shoulders sagged. Relief washed through her.
"...Good..."
The single word was barely audible. Then her knees buckled again.
"Y/N!"
She completely went limp in Wanda's arms, unconscious once more before Wanda could finish calling her name.
---
Pain greeted Y/N before consciousness did. Not the unbearable agony from before.
This was different.
A deep, dull ache spread through her chest every time she breathed, as though every muscle had been torn apart and stitched back together.
She frowned.
The light behind her eyelids felt too bright. Slowly…she opened them. The room blurred for only a second before gradually sharpening into focus.
The ceiling was wooden.
Old beams.
Stone walls.
A fireplace crackled quietly somewhere nearby. Nothing spun this time. She squinted against the sunlight filtering through the curtains.
A gentle hand brushed through her hair.
“Easy…”
Wanda.
Y/N turned her head.
Wanda was sitting in a chair pulled right beside the bed. Dark circles rested beneath her eyes, and her hair was tied back messily. She looked like she hadn't slept properly in days.
Despite that…the moment their eyes met, Wanda smiled.
A shaky, relieved smile.
“Hi.”
Y/N's lips felt dry.
“…Hi.”
Her voice came out rough, almost unrecognizable.
Wanda immediately reached for the glass on the bedside table.
“Easy.”
She slid one arm carefully behind Y/N's shoulders, helping her sit just enough to drink. The cool water soothed her throat.
Y/N sighed softly.
“…Better?”
She nodded.
Wanda helped her lie back down before brushing another strand of hair from her forehead.
For several moments, neither of them spoke. They simply looked at each other. Making sure the other was really there.
Y/N was the first to break the silence.
“…How long?”
Wanda's smile faltered.
“You've been asleep...” She swallowed. “…Three days.”
Y/N blinked slowly. Three…days?
“I thought...” she whispered.
“I know.”
Wanda reached for her hand immediately, lacing their fingers together.
“We made it.”
“The safe house?”
Wanda nodded.
“We were only about forty minutes away.”
“What happened?”
For a moment, Wanda didn't answer. Her thumb continued tracing slow circles across the back of Y/N's hand.
“You passed out again in the SUV. We couldn't stop. They kept sending more patrols, so Yelena drove...” She let out a tired breath. “…Like a maniac.”
Despite everything, the corner of Y/N's mouth twitched.
“I believe that.”
“It wasn't funny.”
“I know.”
“We got here just before sunrise.”
Y/N listened quietly.
“The weapon...” Wanda's voice caught. “…It wasn't normal.” She looked down at their joined hands. “It went straight through your chest.” Her breathing became uneven.
“I tried healing you. I tried everything. Closing the wound. Stopping the bleeding. Repairing the damage.” Her voice broke. “…I couldn't.”
Tears welled in her eyes again.
“My magic just...” She shook her head helplessly. “It wouldn't work.”
Y/N squeezed her hand as much as her weakened body allowed.
“The man who fired it,” Wanda continued quietly, “Yelena found out it was designed specifically for enhanced people.”
Y/N frowned.
“It stopped your healing.”
The words hung heavily between them.
“For almost two days,” Wanda whispered, “nothing happened.”
“I thought...”She couldn't finish. Her lips trembled. “I thought I'd lost you.” A tear escaped despite her efforts to stop it.
“I kept checking your heartbeat.”
“Every few minutes.”
“I was terrified it would stop.”
Y/N's heart clenched. “Wanda...”
“The wound finally started closing yesterday.” Wanda laughed softly through her tears. “Just... a little. But it was enough.”
She looked down at Y/N's bandaged chest.
“Then this morning... your healing finally came back. The hole closed. The lung repaired itself. The ribs started knitting back together.”
She smiled through her tears.
“You're still healing…But you're healing.”
Y/N couldn't stand seeing her like this. She slowly tried to push herself up. But a sharp pain ripped through her chest.
“…Ah...”
She immediately collapsed back against the pillow with a pained groan.
“Hey.”
Wanda was beside her in an instant.
“Don't. You've got a hole that only mostly closed.”
Y/N winced.
“I just...” Another painful breath. “…Wanted...”
She reached up anyway. Her fingers brushed against Wanda's cheek.
“…Come here.”
Wanda didn't hesitate. She leaned forward immediately until their foreheads rested together. Y/N's thumb gently brushed away one of the tears still clinging to Wanda's face.
“I'm sorry...”
“No.”
Wanda shook her head immediately. “Don't apologize.”
“I scared you.”
“You almost died.”
“I'm still sorry.”
A watery laugh escaped Wanda.
“You really are impossible.”
“I know.”
They stayed like that for several quiet moments. Just breathing. Just existing.
Neither wanting to let go.
Then—A familiar voice spoke from the doorway.
“Well...”
The voice was hoarse. Warm. Carried the unmistakable hint of amusement.
“I leave you two alone for a month... and this is what happens?”
Both of them turned.
Standing in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame with her arms loosely crossed, was Natasha.
There were fresh bruises along her jaw. A bandage wrapped around one forearm and she looked tired but she was smiling.
A real smile.
Her green eyes landed on Y/N.
“They said you'd wake up today.” She pushed herself off the doorframe. “I was starting to think you were trying to sleep through my welcome home.”
Y/N stared at her for a long second.
Then...“…Nat.”
Natasha's smile softened.
“Hey, pup.”
The nickname alone was enough to make Y/N smile weakly.
Natasha let out a quiet breath, some of the tension finally leaving her shoulders.
Y/N looked between Natasha and Wanda. “…How?”
“We got here first,” Natasha explained, stepping farther into the room. “Steve, Bucky, and I reached this safe house two days before you three did.”
“…Then?”
“Yelena came crashing through the front door just before sunrise.” A smirk tugged at Natasha's lips. “Literally.”
Wanda sighed. “She almost drove through the fence.”
“I was in a hurry,” Yelena called from somewhere down the hallway.
Ignoring her, Natasha continued, “Yelena was covered in dirt. You were covered in blood.” Her gaze settled on Y/N. “…And you looked dead.”
The room fell silent.
“Wanda wouldn't let anyone touch you.”
Y/N looked at Wanda, who lowered her eyes to their joined hands. “I thought if I let go...” she whispered, “…you'd stop breathing.”
Y/N gently squeezed her hand.
“When none of us went back, after that mission…” Natasha continued, “Clint came to me immediately. Didn't tell anyone. Just left. Classic Clint. A few hours later, Sam showed up too, looking for Steve and Bucky. Fury had managed to reach him.”
“Fury?” Wanda asked.
Natasha nodded. “He knew something was wrong inside SHIELD but didn't know who he could trust. His orders were simple: find us, stay off the grid, and don't trust anyone claiming to be SHIELD until he says otherwise.”
“…So officially?” Y/N asked.
“We're all missing,” Natasha replied. “Fury listed every one of us as MIA. That buys him time to figure out who's compromised.”
“And while we stay hidden...” Y/N murmured.
“We figure out what Hydra is really planning,” Natasha finished. “And how deep this goes.”
A knock sounded against the already open door.
Yelena leaned against the frame with an apple in one hand. She looked at Y/N, took another bite, and said, “Oh. The corpse woke up.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “There she is.”
“I was getting bored talking to Sleeping Beauty.”
Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “…Hi.”
“Hi.”
Yelena wandered over to the bed and, for once, dropped the sarcasm. “…Thanks.”
Y/N blinked. “What for?”
“For jumping in front of that thing.” Her voice softened. “It wasn't just Wanda you protected. It would've hit both of us.”
Silence lingered before she shoved her free hand into her pocket. “…So... thanks.”
“I'd do it again,” Y/N said.
“I know.” Yelena sighed. “That's what worries me.”
Natasha clapped her hands once. “Alright. Mission briefing can wait. You've been unconscious for three days. Your only job right now is recovering. We'll catch you up later.”
Y/N nodded. “Okay.”
Natasha gave her shoulder a careful squeeze. “Come on, Yelena.”
Yelena took another bite of her apple. “Don't do anything dramatic while we're gone.”
Y/N looked genuinely confused. “I'm in bed.”
“Exactly.”
The sisters disappeared into the hallway, leaving only the crackling fireplace to fill the silence.
Y/N turned her head. “Wanda.”
“Hm?”
“Come here.”
Without a word, Wanda kicked off her shoes and carefully climbed onto the bed beside her, taking care not to jostle the bandages around Y/N's chest. The mattress dipped as Y/N slowly lifted an arm despite the pain and wrapped it around Wanda's waist, pulling her close.
Wanda melted against her, resting her head beneath Y/N's chin.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Y/N simply breathed her in.
“…Did you sleep?” she finally asked.
“I did.”
Y/N looked down at the dark circles beneath Wanda's eyes, her tangled hair, and wrinkled clothes.
“…Liar.”
“I slept.”
“You closed your eyes,” Y/N murmured. “That's different.”
Wanda said nothing.
“You stayed here.”
A small nod.
“The whole time?”
Another nod.
“You barely left.”
“…Only when Nat or Yelena made me.”
“Wanda...”
“I couldn't.” Her voice cracked. “What if you woke up and I wasn't here?”
Y/N's heart ached. She tightened her arm around Wanda despite the sharp protest from her ribs.
“Easy,” Wanda whispered.
Ignoring the pain, Y/N rested her cheek against Wanda's hair. “I'm awake now.”
“I know.”
“So now...” She kissed the top of Wanda's head. “…you need to sleep.”
“I'll sleep later.”
“No.”
Wanda looked up to find Y/N watching her with quiet determination.
“You took care of me. Now let me take care of you.”
Wanda smiled tiredly, cupping her cheek. “I'll let you... after you're recovered.”
Y/N opened her mouth.
“No arguments.” Wanda glare softly.
“I wasn't—”
“You were about to.”
“…Maybe.”
“I've spent three days making sure you stayed alive. Now you stay in bed until you're healed.”
Y/N sighed dramatically. “I don't like staying in bed.”
“I know.”
“I feel useless.”
“I know.”
“I can walk.”
“You can barely sit up.”
“…That's temporary.”
“It is. Until then...” Wanda kissed the tip of her nose. “…you're listening to me.”
“…You're bossy.”
“I learned from Natasha.”
Y/N laughed, immediately wincing as pain flared through her chest.
Wanda rested a hand gently against her side. “See?”
“I'm fine.”
“Mhm.”
“I am.”
“You just proved my point.”
Y/N sighed and settled deeper into the pillows, still holding Wanda close.
“…Then sleep here.”
Wanda blinked. “Here?”
“With me.”
“You need space to heal.”
“I need you.”
Silence settled between them as the words lingered in the air. A faint blush colored Wanda's cheeks.
“…Okay.”
She carefully lay beside Y/N on top of the blankets, mindful of every bandage. The bed was small, but neither cared. Wanda rested her head lightly against Y/N's shoulder while Y/N held her just tightly enough to keep her close.
“There.”
“There,” Y/N echoed.
For the first time in days, Wanda's body finally relaxed. The tension eased from her shoulders, and the fear that had kept her awake every time Y/N's breathing changed slowly melted away.
Y/N buried her face in Wanda's hair. “…Sleep.”
“I will.”
“You promise?”
A soft smile spread across Wanda's face.
“I promise.”
Within minutes, her breathing became slow and even. Y/N smiled faintly. It had taken nearly being torn apart for Wanda to finally rest. She pressed one last kiss to the top of Wanda's head before closing her own eyes—not to sleep, but simply to listen to Wanda's heartbeat.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ ANGST, miscarriage and divorce mention, grief and loss, relationship insecurity, hard on GROVELING, Carol wants you bad and Natasha is scared really bad
Author's Note: Scheduled post
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⧗
Two months had already passed since everything.
Somehow, you and Natasha had fallen into a routine. Everything revolves around Aliah. School, homework, playdates, what she wanted for lunch, whether she was sleeping enough, whether she will sleep in mommy's or mama's. Natasha came by the apartment whenever she wanted and you did the same at the manor. There was no discussion about it anymore. No awkward asking for permission. If it had something to do with Aliah, the door was open. It was simple and easy.
At the same time, Natasha never let things become only about Aliah. Every single time she came over, she brought white tulips.
Every. Single. Time.
One bouquet for you and a smaller bunch for Aliah because your daughter had become obsessed with getting flowers too. At first, you thought was just a phase. But two months later, the flowers were still showing up. Natasha never made a big deal out of it. She'd just walk in, set them on the vase, and continue with whatever she came there to do.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And then there were sundays. It became a habit to go to church. To light a candle and pray for the baby you lost—for your little angel. Time had passed, but not enough to make you forget. Maybe it never would. The grief wasn't as sharp anymore, but it was still there. A permanent part of you now.
Natasha wasn't religious. Everyone knew that. She'd probably be the first person to admit it. But every sunday, she was there beside you anyway. Sometimes she followed along. Sometimes she just sat quietly while you prayed and she held Aliah. She never complained or acted uncomfortable. She simply came because you did.
But somewhere along the way, Natasha had even started praying too—she wasn't really praying in the traditional sense. Most sundays, when she sat beside you and watched you bow your head, her own prayers felt more like conversations. Quiet thoughts directed toward someone she hoped could hear her—your little angel.
I hope you help mommy heal. Help her smile more. Help her carry this.
The requests were never really for herself at first. They were always for you. But eventually, Natasha started asking for something else too. Something selfish—something she never had the courage to ask you directly.
If you're listening, angel, help me make this right. Help me take care of her the way I should have. Help me show her that I'm trying. And if there's still room in her heart for me...help her give me a chance.
Natasha always felt ridiculous afterward. She wasn't sure if heaven worked that way. She wasn't even sure she believed enough to deserve an answer. But she kept doing it anyway. Week after week. Sitting beside you in church, talking to a child she loved and lost before she ever got to know them, hoping that somewhere your little angel could see how hard she was trying—not just to heal herself, but to find her way back to you.
She never asked if you had an answer for her yet. There were days she wanted nothing more than to sit you down and ask where she stood, whether you still loved her, whether there was still an "us" somewhere in the future. But every time the urge came, she swallowed it. She'd already hurt you enough. The last thing she wanted was to pressure you into giving an answer you weren't ready to give.
So she waited. And she will keep on waiting.
As long as you never brought up divorce—she's safe, she's fine. For Natasha, it meant everything.
It might not be comfortable or secure. Not stupid enough to think everything was fixed. She knew better than that. She knew there were wounds that she caused that still hadn't healed. She knew you still hadn't answered her. But if you weren't telling her to leave, if you weren't ending things, if you were still letting her sit beside you at church and walk through your apartment and help with Aliah, then Natasha could keep going.
She could be patient.
She could wait as long as it took.
Because after coming so close to losing you completely, uncertainty felt a lot less terrifying than goodbye.
The knock came at the same time it always did. When you opened the door, Natasha was standing there with white tulips in one hand and Aliah's favorite fruit snacks in the other.
Natasha held them out to you with a small smile. "Morning."
You took the flowers from her and stepped aside to let her in. "Morning," you replied quietly.
Two months had passed. Two whole months of Natasha showing up yet somehow, you still couldn't look at her properly. Not for long. Every time your eyes met, you found yourself looking away first.
"Where's Aliah?" she asks, though both of you already knew that. You nodded, clutching the tulips a little tighter.
"She's in the kitchen finishing her breakfast."
A small silence settled between you afterward. Comfortable enough not to hurt, awkward enough to notice. Two months later, neither of you knew exactly what you were anymore. But Natasha was still here, and you were still opening the door for her.
"Hey, maybe Aliah can stay with you later? If you can pick her up after school." You asked casually as you set the flowers on a vase.
It's monday today, you know her schedule and she's mostly free for the day. You knew which afternoons she disappeared for a few hours for therapy and which days usually left her quieter afterward. And without ever talking about it, you'd made it a habit not to bother her on those days.
Natasha looked up immediately. "Yeah, of course." Anything for you.
You nodded. "Thanks. I need to have the sink and bathroom fixed. Something's wrong with the water line, I think. The pressure keeps dropping and the bathroom faucet has been making weird noises for a week now."
Before you could say anything else, Natasha spoke.
"I can fix it."
The words left Natasha's mouth before her brain had a chance to catch up. You two meet eye to eye. Then the redhead mentally cursed herself.
Because no, she absolutely could not fix it.
"Are you sure?" you asked slowly.
And somehow, instead of admitting she had no business touching a water line, Natasha nodded. "Yeah."
The worst part was that she couldn't even explain why she'd said it. She was a multi-millionaire businesswoman. If something broke in one of her properties, she called someone and had it done in an hour or so—it would be fixed before she even noticed. Natasha Romanoff had many skills and plumbing was not one of them.
So now she stood there pretending she had even the slightest clue what she was doing while you continued looking at her suspiciously. But she held your gaze with all the confidence of someone who definitely did not know the difference between a wrench and whatever other plumbing tools existed.
Because honestly? If pretending she could fix a sink meant spending a few extra hours with you, she was willing to commit to the lie for at least another minute before reality inevitably caught up with her.
After dropping Aliah off at school, Natasha drove back to your apartment and parked outside. She had every intention of walking straight inside and confidently dealing with the plumbing situation she had volunteered for. Instead, ten minutes later, she was still sitting in the driver's seat with her phone propped against the steering wheel, watching a man on YouTube explain the difference between water supply lines and drain pipes.
Natasha stared at the screen with the same focus she'd once used to whenever she's in a meeting with the executives.
"Okay," the man said cheerfully. "First, you'll want to locate the shut-off valve."
Natasha paused the video. What the hell was a shut-off valve?
She opened another video. And another.
Twenty minutes later, she knew slightly more than she had before, which was to say not much. Then she felt it. That sensation at the back of her neck—the feeling of being watched.
Slowly, Natasha lowered her phone and looked around the area. There, she saw Wanda walking towards the apartment building.
Of course it was Wanda. That witch.
She'd been making Natasha's life difficult for two months now—not enough to be openly hostile, just enough to make sure Natasha never got comfortable.
Wanda called it accountability.
The grocery store incident alone should've qualified as a crime. You'd been sick one afternoon, and Wanda had casually mentioned that you were out of soup, medicine, and half the things in your kitchen. Natasha immediately drove out and bought everything.
One trip turned into three. Wanda would say after: wrong brand. Then again: forgot the eggs. Then again: actually we needed more than that, Y/N prefers the other kind. Natasha would come back from the grocery store, hands full, jaw tight, only to turn around and leave again because Wanda would insist it wasn't "that hard to get it right."
When she finally arrived at your apartment, exhausted and irritated, she opened the fridge.
Everything was already there.
Every single item.
Natasha had slowly turned her head toward Wanda, who had been standing in the kitchen the entire time.
Wanda just simply smiled. A smile that belonged in a horror movie.
The most exhausting part wasn’t even the errands themselves. It was the feeling that she was being watched while doing them—evaluated. Wanda would lean in the doorway, arms crossed, already waiting for Natasha's comeback—checking if she was frustrated, if she was slipping, if she was going to react.
And Natasha never did. She just stayed quiet, nodded, and went back out if she had to. Because every time she considered snapping back, she’d remember you were in the same house.
And she couldn’t risk making things worse between you two just because Wanda was making her life feel a little hard on purpose.
So whatever test Wanda had prepared for her today, she was going to need at least a basic understanding of plumbing.
Natasha's already back to your apartment and she had barely opened the cabinet under the sink when Wanda appeared beside her. She simply looked down at the toolbox, then at Natasha, and let out a long, unimpressed hum.
"That's brave."
Natasha ignored her.
"Or stupid. Honestly, I'm still deciding."
Still, Natasha said nothing.
Wanda leaned against the counter and took a sip of her coffee. "You really do this to yourself, don't you? Nobody told you to fix the sink. Nobody asked you to. Yet here you are, pretending you're a plumber." She looked down at Natasha. "Actually, pretending is generous. I don't even think you know what you're looking at."
Natasha tightened her grip on the wrench but kept working.
"Try not to destroy the plumbing," Wanda called over her shoulder as she walked away. "Y/N would be really stressed."
The comment shouldn't have hit as hard as it did, but Natasha immediately felt her stomach sink. Because that was the thing—anything that involved you made her worry. She'd spent the last two months trying to do the opposite—trying to make things easier, lighter, better. The last thing she wanted was to be the reason you had one more problem to deal with.
Staring at the maze of pipes beneath the sink, Natasha suddenly wondered if this had been a terrible idea from the start. Maybe she should've just paid for the plumber herself. Maybe she should've called three plumbers. Maybe she should've called an entire plumbing company. Unfortunately, she'd already committed to this.
A little while later, you came downstairs, slipping your phone into your pocket as you entered the kitchen. Your eyes immediately found Natasha.
"You're back," you said.
The effect was immediate. Natasha practically stood up from where she'd been crouched beside the sink.
"Yeah," she said, brushing her hands on her jeans. "Hi."
A small smile appeared on her face. You smiled back automatically.
It was awkward. The kind that felt suspiciously similar to two people trying very hard not to act like they were interested in each other.
Across the room, Wanda watched the entire exchange and rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn't injure herself.
"Oh my God," she muttered to herself. Then she grabs her bag before grabbing you. "Let's go."
You looked back at Natasha. "Uh, we're going to the market." Then you awkwardly added, "Do you want anything? Food or something?"
For a moment Natasha looked genuinely surprised you'd asked. Then a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Yogurt." Natasha bites her lip, "You know…the one before? The one we used to buy."
And immediately you knew exactly which one she meant. The cheap yogurt you practically lived on back in college. The one you'd shared while cramming for exams, surviving on three hours of sleep and bad decisions. You hadn't bought it in years.
"Oh." You nodded once, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "Yeah. Okay, sure."
The moment the apartment door closed behind you and Wanda, Natasha let out a long sigh and looked around the suddenly quiet apartment. Well, this wasn't exactly how she'd pictured the day going. When she confidently said that she could fix the sink, she'd secretly imagined spending a few hours with you. Just being around you. Maybe talking while you cleaned or worked on something. Instead, you'd disappeared to the market with that witch, leaving Natasha alone with a toolbox and a plumbing problem she wasn't remotely qualified to solve. Still, she couldn't complain. At least she had the apartment to herself now. No one would judge her watching YouTube tutorials.
By the time you got back from the market, the first thing you noticed was that the sink was actually working. You stared at it for a moment before looking toward the kitchen. Natasha was standing there with a wrench in one hand, a smudge of dirt on her shirt, and what looked suspiciously like grease on her cheek. The sight alone was enough to surprise you. You'd known Natasha for since college and not once had you ever pictured her fixing anything around the house.
"Wow," you said honestly. "You actually fixed it."
Natasha immediately straightened up. The praise seemed to hit her harder than it should have. A faint blush appeared across her face, and suddenly the woman who had faced world-ending threats looked oddly nervous.
"Yeah..." she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's nothing." The blush only deepened.
"Here."
Natasha looked down. The yogurt. The exact one she'd asked for.
"Thanks." Natasha took it carefully. Then, after a brief hesitation, she looked up at you. "Do you...want to share?" The question came out quieter than she'd intended. Almost hopeful.
You shook your head. "No, I'm good."
Natasha nodded immediately. "Right. Okay."
She smiled anyway—a small one—the kind she'd gotten very good at over the last two months.
Because the truth was, it hurt a little.
Not because of the yogurt itself. Natasha could buy a thousand yogurts if she wanted to. It was what it represented. Back in college, you never even had to ask. One spoon, two spoons, it didn't matter. If one of you had food, the other automatically got some. It had been one of those small, thoughtless things that happened when two people were close.
Now Natasha found herself asking permission for things that used to be natural. And you had every right to say no.
She just couldn't help feeling the distance. The reminder that some things hadn't found their way back yet.
The yogurt wasn't the first time. There had been countless little moments over the past two months. Natasha would come over and you'd offer her food out of politeness.
"Have you eaten? I made pasta." But when you came back she only saw one plate in your hand—only for her—when she actually thought that you would sit down and eat with her.
Sometimes she'd arrive just as you were carrying groceries inside. She didn't need permission to ask, she just reached down to the plastic bags but you softly pulled it away from her.
"It's fine," you'd say before she could even get them. "I can carry them."
And then there were the days Natasha came over and never saw you at all. Aliah would throw the door open with excitement before dragging Natasha inside. Meanwhile, you'd stay upstairs.
Sometimes she'd ask, "Is your mom resting?" and Aliah would nod. "Mommy's in her room."
Natasha never pushed. She'd spend the afternoon helping with homework, playing, and listening to stories about school. Then she'd leave. There is an unspoken agreement between you both—Aliah came first. Natasha would show up for your daughter every single time and you'd never stop her.
But when it came to you, things were different. You were kind. You were never cruel. Yet there was still a careful distance that Natasha felt in every declined offer, every closed bedroom door, every quiet "I'm okay" that meant the conversation was over.
⧗
You texted Natasha asking if she could pick Aliah up from the apartment in the morning and take her to school. When she arrived, she noticed you were already dressed and ready to leave.
"You heading somewhere?" she asked casually while Aliah finished getting ready.
You hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. Just an appointment."
The answer wasn't rude, but it was brief enough that Natasha immediately understood it wasn't an invitation for more questions.
She almost asked what kind of appointment. If everything was okay or if you wanted company. But she didn't. So Natasha simply nodded and said, "Okay." Nothing more.
The appointment is actually a follow-up after your miscarriage. And the entire drive there, one thought kept circling in your head—you should have told Natasha. She had every reason to know. She would've come even if you didn't ask. She would've cleared her schedule without a second thought and sat beside you through the entire appointment. You knew that. That's what made it harder to explain why you hadn't told her. And now, sitting alone in the waiting room, you couldn't decide if keeping it to yourself had been easier or just lonelier.
After dropping Aliah off at school, Natasha stopped by a coffee shop before heading home. She wasn't expecting to see Pietro there. The encounter was completely random.
"Natasha?" he said, looking surprised. Natasha greeted him, and for a few minutes they made small talk.
Among the twins, Pietro had always been the kinder one toward Natasha. He still talked to her normally.
"How'd the appointment go?"
Natasha frowned. "What appointment?"
Immediately, Pietro's expression changed. Shit, he thought. He felt like he just said something he wasn't supposed to.
"She didn't tell you." Then Pietro sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his lips.
Natasha felt something sink in her chest. Slowly, she shook her head. "No...what is it?"
Pietro looked away before answering quietly, "It's just a follow-up check-up in the clinic."
Just a follow-up check-up. That was the thing Natasha couldn't stop thinking about all day. Not the appointment itself or the fact that you'd gone alone. It was that you hadn't told her. She'd asked where you were going that morning and you'd given her an answer that was technically true but carefully incomplete.
By the time she picked Aliah up from school and headed to your apartment, a small part of Natasha wondered if maybe you'd bring it up yourself. She wasn't expecting some deep conversation. Just a simple, Hey, I came for a check-up today. It was okay. Something, anything. But when she arrived, you greeted her normally. Asked how the drive was, how Aliah's day had been, and the appointment never came up.
And Natasha didn't ask—she could have. The words sat right there on the tip of her tongue every time she looked at you. But she didn't push. She'd spent the last two months learning where the lines were, and she recognized this one immediately. If you wanted her to know, you would've told her. So Natasha swallowed the questions and kept the conversation on safer things instead even though it hurt her.
⧗
A couple of days later, Natasha called asking if the three of you can go out. But you let her know that you and Aliah were going to a friend's house for a birthday party that weekend.
"Do you need a ride?" There was a small pause before she added, trying to sound casual, "I can pick you up if you want."
Her plan of going out may not push through but she will still make a way to spend time with you.
You hesitated. But the memory of that appointment still lingered in the back of your mind. You've already hidden things from her. And maybe because of that, you found yourself saying something unexpected. "Yeah. Okay."
The silence on the other end lasted a second too long before Natasha answered, a little too quickly, "Yeah? Okay. I'll pick you up."
Monica's birthday party was louder than you'd expected. The backyard was filled with balloons, games, screaming children, and enough sugar to keep every kid awake for the next week. Aliah had disappeared almost immediately after arriving, running off with Monica and the other children without so much as a glance back.
Most of the afternoon, you stayed near the edge of everything. Sitting in a chair beneath a shaded patio umbrella, quietly watching the chaos unfold in front of you. Every now and then Aliah would run past, laughing so hard she could barely breathe before disappearing again.
A familiar figure dropped into the seat beside you, Carol. She followed your gaze toward the kids before nudging your shoulder lightly.
"I told you to follow me inside the house. You've been sitting here for an hour now."
You laughed softly. "Someone has to supervise."
"Half the neighborhood is supervising." Then she stood up and pointed her thumb toward the house. "Come on."
You looked at her suspiciously. Carol rolled her eyes.
"The adults are hiding in the kitchen."
"Hiding?"
"Drinking."
That earned a laugh from you.
"Come have one drink. I promise nobody's discussing politics."
With a reluctant shake of your head and a smile, you finally stood and followed her inside, she led you toward the kitchen and a chorus of greetings followed from her friends. You immediately got shy but smiled politely, and exchanged a few introductions. After that you immediately felt yourself gravitating toward the quieter side of the room. Carol noticed. With an amused shake of her head, she grabbed two glasses from the counter and guided you toward the farthest corner of the kitchen, away from the louder conversations.
"There," she said. "Now you can socialize from a safe distance."
A few moments later, she handed you a glass of wine. You stared at it for a second before hesitating. Carol immediately caught the look.
"Relax," she said, nudging the glass into your hand. "It's light. You're not going to wake up on someone's lawn tomorrow."
You laughed despite yourself. "Very reassuring."
"I'm serious. It's barely stronger than juice." Carol grinned.
You glanced down at the glass once more before finally accepting it. The first sip was cautious, but she was right. It wasn't heavy. Just enough to warm your throat without making you regret it.
What started as casual conversation somehow turned into the two of you being tucked away in the corner of the kitchen, talking about random things.
She watched you more than she meant to. When you took a sip of your drink. When you looked away like you were embarrassed by your own laugh. When you nodded along to her stories like you were actually interested instead of just being polite. And each time you laughed again Carol felt her cheeks warm a little, like her body was reacting before her brain could stop it. It annoyed her, honestly, how obvious it was becoming.
So she did what she always did when something felt too noticeable. She joked and teased you. She leaned into the role of the easygoing friend who just happened to enjoy your company a little too much.
But even as she spoke, she kept glancing at you when you weren't looking. It wasn't just that she liked being around you. It was that watching you be happy, even for a moment, made her want to keep you there.
"Y/N?"
"Yeah?"
Carol held your gaze for a second too long, the words she couldn't say pressing at the back of her tongue. Then she exhaled softly through her nose and forced it all back into place. Whatever was happening in her head didn't belong in the room with so many people.
I like you.
I want to kiss you.
Fuck, I want to have you.
The blonde had already stepped in closer without fully realizing it. The space between you had narrowed to something that didn't feel accidental anymore. Her gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then back up again, slower this time, like she was weighing a decision she already knew she shouldn't make.
And then your phone rang.
The moment shattered instantly. Carol pulled back just a fraction too late. Your attention snapped away from her completely as you checked the screen, and the soft, immediate smile that appeared on your face made something tighten in her jaw.
"It's Natasha," you said. You answered without hesitation, stepping away not even realizing what Carol was about to do to you seconds ago.
When you came back, Carol was already back in place—composed, casual, drink in hand like nothing had happened at all. You told her Natasha would be picking you up soon. Carol nodded, forcing an easy smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Sure," she said simply. But her jaw ticked once, subtle but sharp, as she took another sip of her drink.
The blonde walked you out of the house, the noise from the party fading behind you. She kept things light, like she always did, talking about small things as you walked side by side. You nodded along, still a little warm from the wine. When you reached the curb, Natasha's car was already there.
Natasha observed the way you and Carol were still talking for a moment longer than necessary, like there was no rush. You finally turned toward Natasha's car and smiled politely at Carol.
"Thanks for earlier," you said. "And—Aliah, okay? I will try to call later if I still can."
Carol nodded. "Got it. We'll take care of her."
Natasha didn't say anything. She just watched from where she stood, eyes following the ease between you and your friend. It wasn't loud or obvious, nothing anyone else would've questioned. But Natasha noticed everything. The way Carol stood closer to you and the way she touched you. The way it all looked…easy. Maybe it's just her mind again, but fuck it's making her crazy again.
The moment you got into Natasha's car, you immediately felt it—that quiet shift in you. Like you had to be more careful now. More aware. The last fight between the two of you flashed in the back of your mind, the one that somehow ended up about Carol. So you quickly said your goodbye to Carol outside, a little too fast and awkward, then got in and closed the door immediately.
The drive was silent at first. Natasha didn't do her usual thing of trying to fill it with small talk or random questions. She just drove, one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road. It felt…different. Heavy that you couldn't ignore. After a while, you gave in and spoke first.
"Have you eaten?" you asked, like you always did.
Natasha glanced at you for a second before shaking her head. "I'm not hungry." Then, after a beat, she added, "Are you drunk?" Her voice didn't soften this time. Her eyes stayed on the road.
You blinked, a little thrown off by how direct it sounded. "I…a little," you admitted after a pause. "I had wine."
Natasha nodded once, like she was noting it down in her mind rather than reacting emotionally. "Wine," she repeated quietly, almost to herself.
She tightened her jaw slightly, keeping her focus ahead. Because in her mind, it wasn't really about the alcohol. It was the fact that you could sit there, a little tipsy from someone else's company, laughing somewhere else earlier in the day…but when it came to her, even sharing a meal felt like something you kept declining. And Natasha didn't say it out loud, but the thought settled anyway, quiet and sharp.
The rest of the drive felt heavier than when it started. Neither of you said much after that. By the time the car finally slowed in front of your apartment building, it almost felt like you had both been holding your breath the entire way there.
You stood there for a second after getting out of the car, keys in your hand, the conversation still sitting heavy in your chest. The air between you felt unfinished.
Without really thinking it through, you looked back at her.
"Do you…want to come in?" you asked quietly.
"Sure."
Inside the apartment, the silence didn't get any easier. If anything, it felt tighter now that the door was closed behind both of you.
"You didn't tell me the party was at their place," Natasha said, her voice calm—but firm. "You didn't tell me Aliah was staying over there."
There was no anger in it, but there wasn't softness either—just clarity.
"Sorry," you said quietly. "There were some sudden changes to the plans." You glanced down for a second before looking back at her. "The party wasn't supposed to be there originally. And the sleepover thing happened today. Carol asked if Aliah wanted to stay with the other kids and she got excited about it."
Natasha just hummed and nodded once. Not wanting to talk about it anymore.
"I'll get you some water. You're drunk."
"Thank you but I'm fine."
The response came so automatically that you barely thought about it.
Natasha froze. Then she looked at you and let out a short laugh.
"I'm fine." She repeated sharply. "Of course."
The tone in her voice made you straighten slightly.
"No, seriously," she continued, shaking her head. "It's always like that with me. I'll help you carry something? No need. I'm fine. I'll drive you somewhere? You're fine. I'll ask if you need anything? Don't bother, I'm good." Her jaw clenched. "It's always like that. Every time I ask about anything, every single time, I get the same answer." She laughed bitterly. "It's fine."
You swallowed hard. The apartment felt unbearably quiet.
"But is it really? Y/N? Is it really fine? Are we really okay?" Natasha looked away for a second before looking back at you. "Because at some point it stops sounding like you're actually fine and starts sounding like you just don't want anything from me."
Your eyes dropped to the floor, your fingers twisting together unconsciously.
"You didn't tell me about the appointment."
You blinked, your head lifting immediately. "How did—"
Before you could finish, Natasha answered. "Pietro. I bumped into him that day." She let out a breath and shook her head. "He asked me how the appointment went."
The guilt hit you instantly. You looked away, jaw tightening as the realization settled heavily in your chest.
"Why didn't you tell me?" There was no anger in it or accusation. Just hurt. "You knew I would've gone with you. You knew I would've been there." She swallowed. Her eyes stayed on yours. "Why, Y/N?" she asked again. "Why didn't you tell me?"
When you finally looked up, Natasha was still standing there, waiting. She let out a shaky breath and looked away for a moment before forcing herself to continue.
"You can't even look straight at me." Her voice cracked slightly. "But with other people, you can." She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "With that blonde friend of yours, you can. You talk to her, laugh with her. You sit with her." A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. "Do you know how hard that is to watch? And I'm trying not to read into it. I'm trying not to make assumptions. But I'm scared, Y/N." She wiped at her face quickly, frustrated by her own tears.
"Am I losing you?" The question came out small—vulnerable. "To her? Or to a life that doesn't have a room for me anymore?"
The apartment fell silent. Natasha swallowed hard and looked at you, eyes glassy now.
"I just don't know where I stand with you. We're always together but why do I feel like you're out of reach?" Her voice broke. "I don't know if I'm your wife. I don't know if I'm your friend. I don't know if I'm just Aliah's other parent." Another tear slipped free. "And I can keep trying, I will keep trying...but I need to know if I'm fighting for something that's still there."
Natasha wiped at her face with the heel of her hand.
"I just need to know where I stand in your life. I need to know." She said firmly though her voice is shaky and full of fears.
Her eyes stayed on yours, unwavering despite the tears.
"Because the only thing I am sure of right now..." Her voice cracked slightly. "The only thing I know for certain is that I still love you."
The confession hung between you painfully simple.
"So tell me. Tell me where I stand. Tell me if I still have a place there in your heart."
You didn't answer right away.
The silence between her words and your reaction felt like it stretched too long, too fragile to survive anything sudden. But then you moved. You stepped closer to Natasha, tears still running down your face, your breathing uneven from everything that had already been said. The alcohol was still there—softening the edges of your thoughts—but you were fully there. Fully aware. There was no confusion in the way you looked at her.
Your hand lifted before you could second-guess it. Fingers trembling slightly as you reach for her face. She just stood there, watching you like she was afraid that if she blinked, you'd disappear.
You wiped at her tears carefully, brushing them away like you were trying to undo every second that made her cry in the first place. A broken breath escaped her. She covered your hand with hers, holding it against her face like she needed it.
That broke something in you.
Your forehead dipped slightly, your voice barely steady when you finally spoke.
"I love you," you said, and it came out raw. Immediate and unfiltered. "But I'm scared too."
Natasha's grip tightened on your hand.
"I'm sorry," you hiccuped, shaking your head slightly as more tears fell. "I just don't know how to do this without being scared. I don't know how to come back from everything that happened and not feel like I'm going to be hurt again."
Your thumb brushed against her cheek instinctively.
"I never stopped loving you," you admitted. "I just…got lost in how to survive it."
Natasha's eyes squeezed shut for a moment. The words hit her harder than anything else you said.
A broken sound escaped her before she could stop it. She shook her head immediately, tears falling faster.
"Please," she whispered. "Don't punish yourself for being scared. You don't have to know how to do this. You don't have to trust me tomorrow. You don't have to have all the answers tonight."
Natasha looked into your eyes.
"Just let me stay." Her voice broke again. "Let me love you. Let me take care of you."
Fresh tears spilled over before you could stop them, your lips trembling as you stared at her.
"Let me spend however long it takes proving that I'm not going to hurt you again."
Summary: When Wanda ends up pregnant a few weeks before their wedding, having an impending family shocks them both.
Pairing: Bucky X Wanda
Word Count: 14,401
Warning: none
A/N: Find the rest of the chapters here; Chapter 1: Two Lines | Chapter 3: Talking Bodies | Chapter 4: A Visit Before the Bells | Chapter 5: An Exchange of Air | Chapter 6: Week 20 | Chapter 7: The Best Team | Chapter 8: Terrible Timing | Chapter 9: The After
Chapter 2: All In
Bucky tried his hardest not to startle her when he entered their apartment, finding her standing in front of the mantle. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hair tied half up half down, and her fingers played with the elbow of her orange jumper.
She’d make a beautiful mother.
Her eyes were trained on the center picture, a printed out cell phone selfie of him, Sam, Laura, and Wanda at Kate Bishop’s graduation.
“Whatcha doing, honey?” he asked, swallowing thickly.
Her eyes flicked to his, smiling lightly before turning back to the images. He glanced at them as well, swaying slightly as he took in images of their history. He looked so happy in all of them that she wasn’t in, and he knew it was because she was the one taking the picture. She was always next to him in the photos, tucked into his side or holding his hand, her cheeks rosy with joy.
“Just…thinking,” she replied, reaching out and touching a frame. The frame held an image of Laura and Wanda cooking, along with the Barton children running around their legs as they attempted to lick the bowls. “We have such a great family, don’t you think?”
Bucky inched closer, touching her waist with his flesh hand. She pressed herself into his palm, which he took as a good sign. Looping his arms around her waist, he pressed his chest to her back, squeezing her to him as his chin rested on her shoulder.
She sighed, placing her hands atop his and closing her eyes. “You’re back.”
“Course I am,” he replied, nuzzling closer. He had to bend slightly to reach her height, but he didn’t mind. “Doubting me?”
She didn’t respond right away, but instead rocked gently on the balls of her feet, and he wished he could see her face.
“Well, you were gone for a while,” she pointed out, turning her face slightly so that she could look at him. “So I don’t know what I thought.”
He huffed a sigh, anger at himself rising, but gave her a smile. Lifting his hand, Bucky traced his thumb along her cheek bone, and her eyes fluttered in comfort. “I didn’t…I thought you needed some time, some space. You didn’t ask me to come back.”
Leaning into his palm, she opened her eyes again and he had to gulp from the look she gave him. She kissed his palm. “And you listened because you’re perfect. I just got in my head.” She let out a small laugh.
“I am not perfect,” Bucky countered. “Far from it.”
“But you try,” she responded quickly, pressing another kiss to his hand. “That’s all I could ever ask for.” She smiled at him, and he could practically feel her place her heart in his hands. “Besides, this is unexpected for both of us. You need time to process this change, too.”
Fear gripped him like a vice, twisting around him like chains, a fear he hadn’t identified before. This child was everything they could hope for, but it was also part of him, and he was dangerous. Would it have powers? Super strength like its father, or the ability to bend reality like its mother? Bucky had sworn to never allow Wanda to go through any more pain. She was done with being put through the emotional ringer. But he had no control over the physical, had no idea what this baby could do to her.
The dread and fear began to grow, and he clenched his jaw. “I’ll always be here for you.” Bucky assured her in a shaky voice. He dipped his head down, pressing his forehead against hers, hands against her back to hold her to him. He just needed to feel her, needed to know she was there after the anxious days.
She breathed out slowly, her breath fanning his face as she kissed his nose, hands moving to cup his neck. “What’d you come up with?” he asked after a moment, wishing this feeling, the closeness, didn’t have to end.
Wanda craned her neck to look up at him as he straightened, pulling him to sit with her on their couch. “I thought about you, about…my boys. About how much I missed them.” Her eyes looked far away, a faint smile on her face. “I thought about how much they’d love having a baby sibling to take care of.”
Bucky nodded, clasping her hand. There wasn’t much comfort he could say to that.
“But they’re gone,” she said quickly, eyes blinking. “I had my time with them, and I cherished it. I think I should cherish my time with our baby, too…with all of us.”
“Wanda,” he whispered her name, fingers curling around hers slowly, the guilt tracing up his spine. “Listen, I-I didn’t know I could– we could…that…it shouldn’t be possible.”
She was patient, waiting for him to take a breath over his stumbled words, her face calm and impassive.
He took a shaky inhale. “I just…I’m sorry I put this on you without warning.”
“Bucky,” her voice was gentle as she squeezed his hand in hers, and scooted closer to him. He welcomed the contact, pressing his nose into her hair. “Do you really think I blame you?” She ducked her head, forcing him to look at her. He knew there were shadows under his eyes and that he needed a good shave. Sleeping without her was like sleeping on a rock; nearly impossible.
When he didn’t answer, she clicked her tongue.
“Bucky, this is not your fault. This is not a pain that you’ve inflicted on me,” Wanda said, her voice strong. He patted her thigh with his hand nervously, not knowing where to look. “I never thought about kids for you and me because…well, it was impossible. But now…baby, we have a chance.”
He swallowed thickly, nodding, and Wanda leaned forward to press her forehead against his once more. She smelled like cinnamon, her shampoo fresh in her locks. He didn’t deserve this peace, didn’t deserve this good.
Maybe she hadn’t been thinking about blaming him, but she was certainly thinking about the future now, and did that have room for him? “You needa do whatever is best for you, baby” he murmured, drawing circles with his hand against her thigh, trying to soothe himself. He cringed at his own actions. When had he become such a fucking bitch?
“Hey, hey, stop it,” Wanda told him, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He blinked, stared at her hands then glanced at her face. She was smiling, and he felt his heart settle just a bit. “Where’d you go?”
“Just thinkin’,” he answered, looking down.
She sighed lightly, pressing her face against his shoulder.” “Promise me something?” she asked, voice muffled.
She could ask for the Infinity Gauntlet and he’d try to get it for her. He nodded wordlessly.
“Promise we’re in this together? I just…” She took a breath. “I just need to know you’ll be by my side no matter my decision.”
He swallowed the gravel of despair that had grown in his throat, focusing instead on her warmth as she cuddled into his side. “Of course, darlin,” he breathed, giving her a lopsided grin. “Whatever you want.”
She pressed her nose to his cheek, one hand cupping against his neck. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I thought…I thought it was over,” he admitted.
“What was over?”
“Us.”
She tucked herself under his arm, nestling closer, and Bucky pulled her to him even tighter. “Never,” she whispered. “I’m with you till the end.”
It was like his chest had been converted from lead to mist. He felt weightless with relief.
“I just want you to know I’m here, whatever you decide,” he breathed, shutting his eyes. “If you wanna family, then fuck it, let’s have a family. But if you want our life to stay the same, say the word and I’ll drive you to the clinic right now.”
Wanda glanced down, taking his other hand into hers, caressing the metal. “Well, what do you want?” she questioned almost shyly.
He shook his head. “No, this is about you, your body. You’re the one he’s going to be carrying all of this. It’s your health. I’m not taking that from you.” He couldn’t do that to her, could never take any option she wanted away from her. He remembered what it was like to not have control of your body, to have things done without his consent. Bucky would never let her feel like that.
“Thank you, I appreciate that you care so much,” Wanda replied, smiling. “But I still want to know your thoughts. On the topic of health, we should probably give Bruce a call, ask some questions. Nice to have such smart folks on speed dial.”
“What kind of questions?” Bucky asked, mouth tilting downwards.
She gave him a tight smile, a smile he knew was riddled with worry. “I had a few concerns because…well, I doubt this will be a normal pregnancy.” She squeezed his hand, but he suddenly felt cold. He hadn’t thought about that, not really. “He said it could be…difficult. But they don’t know, since this has never happened before.”
“The serum.” Bucky gulped. “Because of me. This pregnancy is at high risk because of me?”
“Baby, a super soldier infant would be difficult for a normal girl. But I’m the Scarlet Witch,” Wanda explained, her voice humorous, trying to pull him out of the dark hole she knew he was descending in. “I’ll be fine, and so will she.”
“She?” Bucky repeaked weakly. Wanda smiled, looking down at her still-flat abdomen, but Bucky couldn’t join her in her joy. He had seen first hand what the serum can do. Was she really going to be able to handle that?
“It’s just a feeling.” Wanda whispered, almost to herself.
Bucky nodded, but his thoughts were so far away that he barely registered her words. All he could hear was high risk and difficult and he couldn’t fathom the thought of something he did, taking her away from him.
In the past few years, Bucky had made great progress in self-worth and self-forgiveness. But as he heard more and more about Wanda’s pregnancy, the only thing he could do was blame himself.
“So how can we help it? How can I help it?” he asked, fear leaking into his voice.
She took a breath, breathing out through her nostrils slowly. “Rest, monitoring the fetal activity,” she replied calmly. “Probably gonna have to start eating a lot, but mostly just rest.”
“You don’t really eat much,” he commented, scratching his head.
She laughed, the sound like little diamonds and rolled her eyes. “Yes, but think of how much you consume due to the serum.”
Bucky nodded again, like he wasn’t internally sick with worry, like his stupid sperm hadn’t put her life on the line.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Wanda’s fingers gently stroking his metal palm, the sound of the city streaming lowly from their open windows.
“I don’t want this if it’ll hurt you,” Bucky said suddenly, words spilling out faster than she could capture them. “Nothing is worth your safety, nothing. Fuck, honey, I’m so sorry I never–“
He stood up with a frustrated grunt, tearing himself away from her. He wanted to pace, wanted to throttle himself for being the only thing he couldn’t stop from hurting her. “I won’t lose you. Especially like this.”
“Bucky…” Wanda started to say, standing slowly.
He scowled in response. He hated when she did that, hated that he made her feel the need to treat him gently.
“We have to get a handle on this because…well you know S.H.I.E.L.D. will want to be involved.”
“Fuck no,” he responded, tone like gravel. “Absolutely fucking not.”
Wanda sighed, placing her hand on the back of her neck and rubbing it, looking away. Suddenly turning on the balls of her feet, she looked at him with wide eyes. “We never talked about kids. Never needed to. Do you even want children? Do you see yourself as a father?”
Bucky felt his anger nearly explode at the idea of S.H.I.E.L.D. thinking they had any claim on Wanda or their child. But the image of little feet, bright brunette hair in pigtails and pink bows shifted to the forefront of his mind, Wanda making pancakes on Sundays while they watched cartoons, or walks in Manhattan as they shopped for presents to put under the Christmas tree.
He shoved the image away. He didn’t want it, not without her.
“Buck?” Wanda was standing in front of him, her arms crossed loosely and her face a mask of concern.
He sighed, hating that she worries so much about him. Striding to her, he takes her in his arms.
She grinned, eyes bright with possibilities. “Tell me. Ever thought about fatherhood?”
“Sorry, I’m here. Yeah, I mean…I guess at one time, I thought about it,” Bucky responded sheepishly. “But then, I was in a war and I had to let the majority of my wants go.”
“Well, if it’s still a want, the opportunity has literally fallen into our laps,” Wanda muttered, craning her neck to look at him.
Bucky felt his eyes grow wide at her words. “You wanna keep it?” He leaned his forehead to hers. “Wanda, do you want to keep it?”
Silence stretched, and he shifted, pressing his mouth to her forehead. When he leaned back, she blinked rapidly and gave him a pained smile. “I think I do, but I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. And I don’t want you to resent me for it.”
She thought he was gonna walk away from her? She was worried that he’d just leave?
He cupped her face, making sure she was hearing him and said, “I’m with you no matter what, darlin’.”
“But do you want this?” she asked again, and bless her heart, she needed the clarification. Wanda had had her hopes dashed time and time again, her future ripped from her grasp, and now her fragile state was always skeptical.
“Yes,” he answered, his voice strong enough for her to feel it. “Jesus, Wanda, I’ll go with you anywhere. I want to do this with you, build this family if it’s with you. It’s…terrifying, but I’m with you.”
She scrunched her nose in the way he loved so much, her hands gripping his t-shirt lightly. “What about the wedding?”
“Oh, we’re still gettin’ married,“ Bucky told her, lowering his hand to her backside and giving her ass a squeeze. She laughed in mock surprise and swatted at him. “Ain’t nothing stopping that from happening.” Wanda beamed in amusement and he wished he could freeze this moment to snap a picture. She leaned up to kiss him, but he grabbed her chin, keeping her a few inches away. “I have some stipulations.”
She gave him an odd look, brow raised. “Go on.”
“Firstly, we’re putting you first,” he instructed. “If it comes to it, your health is first. I won’t lose you, hon.”
Wanda nodded, taking ahold of the hand that gripped her chin. “Okay, okay, it won’t come to that,” she whispered in assurance, and he didn’t miss the excitement in her voice.
“And you have to listen to whatever the doctors say. If they say vitamins, we buy every kind. If they say less walking, I’m carrying you everywhere.”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m serious.”
She shook her head in light agreement. “Okay,” she muttered, and he could tell she was holding back a grin. “So…we’re having a baby?”
Bucky paused, and for just a moment, he allowed a little bit of happiness seep into his chest, and the image of a little girl with Wanda’s eyes swaddled in his arms appears at the back of his mind.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, pressing a light kiss to her lips. “Yeah, I think we are.”
The look she gave him could be considered the definition of peace
Summary: When Wanda ends up pregnant a few weeks before their wedding, having an impending family shocks them both.
Pairing: Bucky X Wanda
Word Count: 14,401
Warning: smuttt, a bit of violence if you squint
A/N: This is probably one of my favorite WinterWitch fics yet, because I just know Bucky would be a nervous wreck if his girl was pregnant. Hope y’all enjoy!
Find the next chapter(s) Chapter 2: All In | Chapter 3: Talking Bodies | Chapter 4: A Visit Before the Bells | Chapter 5: An Exchange of Air | Chapter 6: Week 20 | Chapter 7: The Best Team | Chapter 8: Terrible Timing | Chapter 9: The After
Chapter 1: Two Lines
She had only been going grocery shopping. It was that little act that had her entire world in shambles. If she hadn’t gone grocery shopping, she wouldn’t have seen the tests, wouldn’t have thought about how her periods were a few weeks late, wouldn’t have bought said-test just in case.
They couldn’t have children. Of course, they could have children that she made, but she didn’t want to exclude Bucky from something like that. And of course, Wanda had already been a mother, even if it was for a short while.
She stared at the positive test in her palm and felt her jaw shake. A sob threatened to escape, but she was too confused to cry, too shocked, too skeptical.
Staring back at her was a little pink line, a pink line that had stunned her stupid, shocked her into a state of complete unknown.
They were supposed to be getting married in a few weeks. They’d been together for years, meeting up not too long after Westview and falling so hard neither of them could admit it for months. If she wasn’t so skeptical, she’d have thought they were made for each other. They were practically married already, shared an apartment and split the bills, but this?
She thought this wasn’t in the cards for them.
Her hands were heavy as she tried to hold the test strip in the light, making sure she was reading it correctly. What would he say?
She knew he wanted to marry her, he cried when he asked. But a child was an entirely different subject. A child was….delicate.
And aside from the fact that Bucky had been told he was sterile, she wasn’t entirely sure they could handle it. She smacked her palm to her forehead and willed herself not to cry.
They had been anything but careful. Why did they need to be if he was sterile? They never bothered discussing it, as they didn’t feel the need to. Being parents had seemed like such an unachievable thing that they’d never really broached the topic.
They loved each other, and it was enough. But now?
Wanda let out a laugh. Was that the correct response to finding out you were magically with child? She didn’t think so, but this, this unidentified, terrifying prospect had her reeling.
She stood, throwing the test in the trash, and began to pace inside the bathroom. Eventually she stood in front of the mirror, taking in her reflection for a moment before turning to the side.
Did she look larger? She didn’t feel it, didn’t see it. When she was pregnant the first time, she had been nearly out of her mind and could barely remember how she reacted. But she didn’t remember how it felt. The little flutter deep within, like hope had bloomed. Without trying, she smiled, gripping the sink tightly.
She was going to have a baby. His baby.
Anxiety ripped through her like a claw. He would sense it in minutes, knowing that she was in turmoil. But would he know why? He was so gentle with her, so watchful. Surely he’d demand to know the source of her emotions. Would he think she was cheating? He thought he was sterile just as much as she did.
Wanda swung the bathroom door open in a hard motion, ran to their bedroom and sat on the foot of their bed. Shutting her eyes, she breathed in deeply, clasped her hands, then released and placed a palm lightly over her flat tummy.
“I’ll love you,” she whispered, the air thin, pressing the pads of her fingers into the fabric above her stomach. “No matter what you do to me and him. I’ll love you.”
She waited for him on the foot of their bed, heart racing as she listened for the door. When she heard the key slide into the lock, she jumped, feeling the tears well in her eyes.
Baby first. This child didn’t ask to be made, Bucky would have to accept that. Even if he couldn’t accept that it was his.
“I’m home, hon.” His voice was light, content. She hated that she was shattering that for him. “How’d shoe shopping go?”
Wanda swore her heart stopped as she covered her mouth. “Fuck,” she gasped into her palm. “Fuck fuck!”
Bucky entered the bedroom, his smile melting as he took in her face. “What?”
“I-I forgot to meet up with Laura,” she groaned. “I need to text her.” Bucky laughed lightly, and Wanda took in his expression. “But first, we need to talk, Buck,” he whispered, watching his smile fade. There was no reason to make the inevitable wait, no reason to hide it.
“What is it?” he asked, looking concerned.
She held her hand out to him, hesitantly lacing their fingers. “I have…a bit of news.”
Bucky wished for the millionth time in his life that Steve was there. He would know what to do and would react perfectly.
It had been three days since Wanda told him she was pregnant, three days of sleeping on the Barton’s couch while she took the time, she said they both needed. He didn’t need time. He needed her, he needed to know what the fuck they were going to do.
His gut was twisted with guilt, wondering what she was thinking in that pretty little head of hers. He wanted to panic, demanding that she just talk with him, but fear stopped him.
Maybe she didn’t want it.
Maybe she’d break off the engagement, take the baby and run. It was all she’s ever wanted, right? Her and Vision and their little world? She couldn’t have Vision or babies, but now…
She called him every day he had been gone, and he was grateful for the little comfort of hearing her voice. He had always been clinging, ever since they first kissed, and Wanda always treated it with grace, never minded it, so he never worried. Not until now.
It was nice while it lasted, the time he had been allowed to spend with the love of his life, the very center of his heart. He should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to keep her. When had life ever been that kind? He’d be forever grateful that he had met her in the first place. She’d repaired his mind, moved into his heart, nestled into him. And now he worried she would be removed by something he didn’t even know was a threat.
“So you haven’t talked about it?” Clint asked, leaning against the counter top. Beside him, Sam mimicked the confused expression, jaw set tightly as he listened.
“She said…she needed space,” Bucky replied slowly, hands clenched. “Time to think.” His gaze fell down to his keys that sat in a pile on the coffee table. The keyring she’d given him ages ago stares at him, the carved text shining.
Drive safe because someone loves you.
“And I wanted her to be able to have that time,” he finished, tearing his eyes away from the keychain and back to his two friends.
Sam nodded slowly. “That doesn’t mean she wants to break things off.”
Bucky gave him a look. “You had to see her face,” he said, jaw tight. “She looked…she looked so scared. And it’s my fault.”
“Well of course she’s scared,” Clint chimed in, dropping his arms. “Every girl is scared when they find out they’re expecting.” He clasped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Last time I checked, it takes two to make a baby.”
“Or three if you’re adventurous,” Sam interjected, wiggling his brows.
Bucky shook his head in exasperation, squeezing his hands tightly. “You didn’t see her, I didn’t..I didn’t know it was possible,” Bucky rasped. “I can’t have kids. I didn’t think she would get pregnant.”
I didn’t think I would lose her like this.
“Listen, I don’t…I know it’s unlikely,” Sam started, staring at his feet. “But, is there anyway it isn’t yours?”
Bucky stood quickly, feeling his blood thrumming in his ears. Clint straightened, holding his hands out between the two of them. “Calm down, Buck.”
“Of course I’m sure,” Bucky snapped, his heart rattling in his chest, the want to protect blooming. “There’s no doubt in my mind, so there shouldn’t be any in yours.”
Wanda wouldn’t do that to him. She was too pure, too good. Wearing her heart on her sleeve is what got her hurt so often, but she never changed, never soured. It was one of the multitude of things he adored about her.
“She wouldn’t do that,” Bucky stated, making sure his words hit them. “She’s always faithful. It’s just life fucking with me again. I should’ve made sure we used condoms.”
Clint coughed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure little ears weren’t listening.
“Okay, calm down, man,” Sam responded, hands raised in ease. “I get it. I’ve seen the two of you together and I know you’re both done for.” Clint and Bucky gave him quizzical looks. Sam’s eyes grew in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed? The way she looks at you.” Sam whistled, shaking his head. “She looks like she’s won the competition of a lifetime. And while I myself do not agree at all, anyone with eyes can tell she loves you.”
Clint nodded In agreement. “I suppose that’s true…she does get this dazed look on her face.”
“Exactly,” Sam cheered, shrugging. “But you’re here moping when you should be with her, encouraging her that you are just in this as much as she is. Maybe she’s having the same kind of worries as–”
Bucky was grabbing his keys and flying out the door before Sam finished his sentence.
He raced to his bike, throwing his leg over the side with ease. No matter what, he’d convince her. Convince her that she was loved, that he wasn’t going anywhere unless it was with her. That he wanted her baby.
Summary: After a few months of dating, you realise you don't know when Nat's birthday is. She isn't interested in celebrating, and when you ask, she refuses to tell you. But you are very determined.
____☆____
A/N: This is just a little fluff, also my first x reader fic. Love reading em so I thought I'd give it a go :3. Also I find it hard to read Y/N as my name so I'm using [...] instead!
Tags: Just fluff <3
____☆____
"Oh, come on, why won't you just admit it?"
"Because I can't deal with you inviting half of the United States to the tower for a party."
"Exaggeration."
Natasha raises a brow at you. "Oh really? And what about he time you put flyers around about Wanda's party?"
"She was turning 21!"
She gives you a 'really?' look and you know you aren't getting anything out of her. It just didn't make any sense, birthdays were the one day a year where it was all about you. Well that's everyday if you're Tony Stark, but for well functioning members of society it should count as the best day of the year.
"I will not be disclosing that information until I can trust you not to make a huge deal."
"What if I pinky promise?"
"You always overdo it, detka, it's just how you are." She plants a small kiss on your forehead and leaves you on the couch to begin plotting.
___♡___
"And then she said 'you always overdo it', give me a break!"
Wanda looks up from the pot she's stirring and chuckles, "I didn't know half the people the showed up at the tower on my 21st, [.....]"
"I knew I should've gone to Tony, he would get this."
"I don't think asking the most flamboyant Avenger would be very helpful in this situation."
"Right."
"I think you should just leave it, she'll probably tell you eventually." She gently taps a bit of salt into the pot.
"Or..."
"No."
"You didn't even hear me out!"
"I can read minds. It's a terrible idea."
"Firstly, reading Nat's mind to figure out her birthday is literally a flawless plan, and secondly, you're good reading my mind and not hers?"
"Natasha already set her boundaries with me, and plus I don't feel like getting my ass kicked for aiding and abetting."
"Thanks a lot Wands."
"Any time."
If Wanda wasn't going to cooperate then you were simply going to have to enlist the help of a certain blonde assassin.
___♡___
You hear Lucky and Fanny barking hysterically after you ring the doorbell, followed by fast paced footsteps and a small "One minute" from the other side of the door.
Usually a simple question would only warrant a text or phone call, but for some reason Yelena NEVER answers her phone. Unless it's from Kate of course, you're half convinced that she has a special ringtone and notification for her.
It's none other than the archer that answers the door, "Hey, [.....]! I didn't know you were coming over."
"I've actually dropped in unannounced, but I won't stay too long." You reassure her. Kate has a habit of forgetting things, including scheduled hang outs and honestly everything else that isn't attached to her body.
"Come on in!" She steps out of the way and shuts the door behind both of you.
You're immediately greeted by the two large dogs, fighting over your attention in a confusion of wagging tails and paws. Kate tries to get them under control and ultimately fails until they're distracted by Yelena calling them.
"That's totally not fair, they only listen to you." Kate complains and Yelena laughs.
"Because they love me more."
"Lies and deception!" Kate is soon distracted by the golden retriever pulling at her sleeve and gives Yelena a smug look before pouring all of her attention to him.
"Hey, Yelena."
"Hello, [......]. To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Uh, I actually had a quick question. When's Natasha’s birthday?"
"Ah. I do not know."
"What?? But you're sisters!"
She shrugs, "She does not want me to know. Birthdays are not really Natasha’s thing, surely you must know that."
"Yeah, I know, it just doesn't make any sense."
"That's Natasha for you."
You sigh in defeat and sit down on one of the armchairs, your lap immediately occupied by Fanny who still wholeheartedly believes she's the size of a puppy.
"Well, there is someone else you could ask."
Your ears perk up, "Who?"
"Melina."
Ah. Melina. It wouldn't be fair to say that she hated you, but it also would be lying to say that she was fond of you. Perhaps you could ask Alexei instead.
___♡___
"Hello? Can you hear me?" You ask over the phone to your future father in law.
"HELLO? ARE YOU THERE, [......]?"
"Yeah, I'm-"
"I THINK MY WHATISUP IS BROKEN- MELINA!"
"No, no, Alexei there's really no need."
You hear the sound of footsteps and Melina scolding Alexei for always forgetting to turn up the volume before she picks up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Ah, hello Melina."
"[........]. Do you need something?"
"When's Natasha’s birthday?"
"December third. Is that all?"
"But- that's today."
"I'm aware."
"Well, thank yo-" The phone cuts off before you finish your sentence and you're left with about two hours to plan a surprise party for a spy.
___♡___
"I did it, Wanda!"
"Only took you half the day."
"Okay, hater, I need you to help me surprise her."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"One hundered percent." You reply confidently. For most of the day you'd been discouraged, but now it was time for you to trust your gut.
Soon enough you've formed a team of Kate, Yelena and Wanda gathered in one of the common rooms of the tower.
"Alright, Wanda you can be in charge of snacks, Kate you can do decorations, and Yelena you can find us the cake."
"Can-"
"No it may not have profanities on it."
The blonde sighs but jumps into action with the other two. Now all you have to do is buy them some time.
___♡___
You greet Natasha at the tower's entrance with a huge smile plastered on your face.
"Hi, Nat!"
"Hey, [.......]. How was your day?"
"A little hectic. Wanna go for a walk?"
"I would love to but I need to sleep for at least ten hours straight."
You step in front of Natasha as she starts to head inside, "Wait- Uh, did you know walking actually improves energy levels?"
Natasha raises an eyebrow, "What's up with you?"
"Nothing."
"For some strange reason I do not believe that." She holds you in place by your shoulders and steps around you, but you take her arm and try to steer her to the kitchen, your plans are foiled by Lucky and Fanny who bound up to Natasha happily.
"What are Yelena and Kate's kids doing here? Seriously, what is going on?"
"Uhh."
"Insightful."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She stares you down for a few seconds before suddenly moving towards your shared quarters and only speeds up once she realises you're trying to stop her.
The red head clears the stairs in a few seconds and opens the door, only to be met with pitch black. When she steps through and flicks on the light Wanda, Yelena and Kate jump out from behind the couch and yell "Surprise!".
The look on her face is priceless when she turns to you, "How- when did you-"
"I have my ways."
Natasha pulls you into a tight hug and you hug her back even tighter when you feel a small damp patch forming on your shoulder.
___♡___
"Okay, now make a wish!" Yelena says excitedly, the three of you are crowded around the table where the birthday girl sits in front of her cake.
"Alright, alright." She closes her eyes and blows out the candles, which prompts a cheer from everyone in the room.
The five of you all squish onto the couch to watch a movie and eat snacks and cake, with Natasha curled into your side.
"So, did I 'overdo' it?" You ask playfully.
You hear her chuckle, "It was perfect."
____☆____
Tysm for readinggg, If you liked it I have more stuff in my masterlist :)). Reqs are open!!
Also, if you saw the unfinished version of this when I posted it by accident, no you did not.
Summary: After Wanda is blipped, you develop cancer, another thing on Natasha's plate. Years later, you are the one to go with Clint to Vormir, to save your mother. Steve returns the stones to their homes.
Word count: ≈1700
Warnings: talks of death, cancer, technically a suicide (🤨)
Reading time: ≈10 mins
Req by: @marvelogic (original by Grammar Anon)
Type: Oneshot
a/n - Mama = Natasha, Mom = Wanda
tag list: @tigerlillyruiz
Steve stands on the Quantum Platform, armed with Mjolnir and the Infinity Stones. Banner had promised that all the stones would be returned to their original times to prevent dangerous alternate timelines from forming.
The Platform flashes around him, taking him back in time to New York, 2012. Two stones were collected here, he knew that. Firstly, the Time Stone was an easy return to the Ancient One. He assumes the others can only be that easy as well. Thankfully, returning the Mind Stone wasn't too hard either, as he already knows the password, Hail HYDRA, to return to scepter to SHIELDs double agents, Rumlow and Sitwell.
Unfortunately, it couldn't all be that easy. The Space Stone has to be returned as the Tesseract to the 70s, at Camp Lehigh, where Steve knows he's highly likely to get recognised. He doesn't know how long it truly takes him to return the Tesseract without being caught, having to avoid Howard Stark and Hank Pym, among others. He feels the relief instantly when he's able to move on to the next stone.
Relief doesn't last long though, as returning the Reality Stone to Asgard in 2013 is no easier of a task. Steve knows he has to inject the liquid back into Jane Foster without being caught by Frigga or Asgardians guards. Steve quickly realises that there is a lot of close calls when he got sloppy, and by the time he's finished he knows that's not his best work.
Steve finds Morag significantly easier. With Star Lord still knocked out, and the guards not having arrived, he's able to simply place the orb back in its temple, quickly travelling to Vormir before Star Lord wakes up again.
Vormir was always going to be the painful one. Steve knew that. With the loss of you off the same cliff, he wasn't exactly prepared to see your body, still there, laying at the bottom. Impossibly small against the dark sone floor, dried red standing out against it. Hair resting wispily against the stone, laying over your shoulder, even in death. Steve feels a tear roll down his cheek. You were too young for everything, losing your mom, getting cancer, and then sacrificing yourself for everyone. “You were just a kid,” he murmurs, backing away from the edge.
It wasn't long of Steve's staring off the cliff before Red Skull, an old nemesis appears. “I brought the Soul Stone,” he tells the apparition quietly. It felt wrong to speak any louder here. Like it would disrupt the peace, the silence and tragedy of your death. Red Skull retrieves the stone from Steve.
He waits for a moment, taking it all in. The wind whistling, the cool chill biting at his cheeks, the jagged rocks on either side of him, even at the top. He can only imagine what you and Clint had experienced that day. He only hoped you got what you had wanted, that you knew your sacrifice hadn't been in vain. That you knew your mothers were together again.
He turns, starting to walk back down, when a bright light shines behind him. He turns back, covering his face with an arm, squinting into the brightness. "What...?"
He moves forwards with caution, free hand held out in front of him like a brace. He sees a figure lying on the floor in front of him. "Hello? Who's there?"
The figure rolls half way suddenly, from their back to their side, one arm holding them up slightly. They cough, clouds of dust against the bright light. It couldn't be...
Steve doesn't move. The figure pushes itself upright, wincing and coughing. His breath catches. “Y/N?”
Slowly, you look up, confused. “...Uncle Steve?” Relief floods your face. “Did it work?”
Steve freezes. “What?”
“Mom. Did we get Mom back?” Silence. “Steve, are my moms together?”
“Yes, Y/N. They're together.”
“Take me home.” You reply. “I need my moms. I need them to be okay.”
“Can we...do that? I thought-” Steve trails off, shaking his head. You weren't a hallucination meant to torture him and his grief? He looks to Red Skull.
“A soul for a soul,” is his only reply. “The debt has been repaid.”
Steve hooks an arm around your shoulders, helping you walk a little in your...freshly alive form. “You okay?”
“I just wanna get home.”
Steve laughs once. A horrible, broken sound. Then he's pulling you into a hug before he can stop himself. “Kid...” His voice cracks. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”
Steve helps you down the mountain, Halfway down he fronws. Steve stops walking. You turn. “What?”
His eyes narrow. Because your skin isn't pale anymore. There aren't dark circles under your eyes. You're standing without leaning on him. For years every photograph of you had looked tired. Sick. Now you just looked fifteen. “And— your breathing.”
You blink. “What about it?”
Steve stops again. Because there isn't any wheezing. No cough. No exhaustion. No weakness.“...my chest doesn't hurt.”
Steve's eyes shine. He had spent years unconsciously walking slower beside you. Waiting when you got tired. Carrying things you insisted you could carry yourself. And now he'd walked halfway down a mountain before realizing you weren't struggling to keep up.
On the teams end, the Quantum Platform lights up again, a soft whirring sound as Steve reappears seconds later on the platform. Through the light, squinting, Natasha can see another figure with him. Her smile fades. “Steve?”
The figure beside him steps forward. Small. Familiar. Impossible. Natasha stops breathing. “Holy shit...” You stare at her through the fading light. “Oh my god...” she gasos, hand flying to her mouth. “No. No way.”
“Mama...” you whisper. Natasha barely had chance to blink before you're around her, leaping from the platform into her arms, feet off the ground as her arms wrap around you. Tears fall against her shoulder, your face buried in the crook of her neck as your legs wrap around her waist.
Natasha doesn't let go, like she's afraid you'll disappear if she does. After months of watching through every recording, every edited photo, every voice note about your day, and now you're here. Back with your family where you belong. Warm, breathing, fingers tangled in the back of her jumper just like when you were a scared kid.
“I'm sorry, Mama...” you whisper, tears darkening the shoulder of her jumper.
She buries her face in your hair, one hand smoothing the back. No strands come out in her fingers. “Dont do that again. Ever. You're not allowed to scare me anymore.”
She pulls back to look at you, one hand cupping your face. No exhaustion. No pale skin. No trembling hands. No cough. No shadows beneath your eyes. Just her kid. Healthy. Fifteen. Alive.
“Natasha?” Another voice asks. Warm, loving, familiar in a way you hadn't heard in years. Your whole body goes still, legs dropping from around Natasha, looking up from her shoulder. “Oh my— Y/N?”
“...Mom?”
Wanda freezes a few feet away. Everyone, Clint, Natasha, Steve, had told her that her daughter had died bringing her back. That in the time she'd been dust, her daughter had developed cancer and died by sacrifice. And now here she was, wrapped around Natasha. Surely this was some kind of awful joke. “Nat, is it really...?”
Wanda takes one step forward. Then another. Her eyes never leave yours. “Y/N?”
Your lip trembles. “Mom.”
Wanda makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. The next second she's running, her arms pressing you tightly against her. “You reckless idiot...” she murmurs into your scalp, arms wrapped almost too tight around you.
Wanda pulls back suddenly. Her hands move to your face. Then your hair. Then your shoulders. Confused. “Wait.” Everyone freezes. Wanda stares at you. “I thought you said she had cancer?”
Wanda stares at you. Then at Steve. Then back at you. “Natasha said you was sick.”
“She was,” Bruce says quietly.
Wanda's eyes move back to yours. “Y/N...”
Natasha already knows. She knows because she spent years memorizing every symptom. Every cough. Every bad day. Every hospital visit.Every scan. And none of them are there.You look down at yourself. Your hands. Your arms. You take a careful breath. Then another. No pain. No tightness. No exhaustion. Nothing.“..it's gone.”
Silence. “What?” Natasha asks.
Tears suddenly spring to your eyes. “It's gone.”
Natasha laughs. Once. A tiny, disbelieving sound. Then her face crumples. “Don't joke about that.„
“I'm not.”
“Kid...”
“I'm not.”
Bruce is already moving forward. He checks your breathing, your eyes your pulse. “She's healthier than before,” he murmurs.
________________________________________
“I'm gonna get you!” you pant, chasing Morgan around Clint's field, Cooper, Lila and Nathanisl playing too. Morgan and Nathaniel squeak and giggle as they run away from you, Cooper and Lila's longer legs.
The adults smile happily from a picnic blanket a few feet away. “Be careful, Y/N! Don't wear yourself out!” Natasha calls instinctively.
“Nat,” Wanda hits her shoulder. “Bruce said she's fine.”
She sighs. “I know, I just...I can't imagine her playing like this anymore. It feels unsafe.”
She watches you sprint across the field. Sprint.Actually sprint. Not stopping halfway. Not coughing. Not holding your ribs. Not pretending you were fine. Just running, chasing Morgan and Nathaniel. Natasha feels tears sting her eyes before she can stop them.
That night, for the first time in years, Natasha wakes up because someone climbed into bed between her and Wanda. “Seriously?” Natasha mumbles.
“I died,”you mumble into Wanda's shoulder.
“Fair point.”
Wanda laughs quietly and pulls you closer. Natasha wraps an arm around both of you. Nobody moves. Nobody leaves. And for the first time in a very long time, the family is whole again.
The text had come just as Natasha was gearing up to dig into a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. She was mid-scoop, enjoying the quiet and solitude at this time of night, when her phone dinged. She knew it could be one of the few people on her personal line, daring to text her at this hour.
With a fond eye roll, she began to respond to your message. Only another one came in before she could finish typing.
I have made a series of poor but legally defensible decisions.
Natasha sighed. ‘Where are you?’ She asked.
I’m here, but Karen can take me home….
Another ping.
I just really missed you. *insert crying sad face emoji*
Where is here? She responded, already grabbing her jacket.
*************
Here ended up being a lovely, hole-in-the-wall nightclub named Peachez with terrible parking and a line down the block. Natasha parked her Jaguar in the front, not even bothering to turn on her hazards as she gave a slight nod to the bouncer at the door.
There were a few gasps in the line from those who recognized her. She didn’t react. You were her only focus. The club was loud enough to qualify as a weapon. She slipped through the crowd, practically bumping into security, a man named Will, with green eyes and a muscle shirt labeled in white.
“Where is she?” Natasha asked. They’d done this dance before. It was always funny, really. She had infiltrated secure compounds, fought assassins, and survived alien invasions. Finding her girlfriend after a law school finals celebration felt more challenging.
“If you’d come any earlier, you would have seen her,” Will grinned. “She was dancing on top of the platform. After that, she jumped into the crowd and-”
“Natasha,” You grabbed her from behind, pulling her into you. You drunkenly stumbled back, knowing how surprising it could be for her, but also knowing she was expecting it. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m just so happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you too,” She said. She gave you a once-over, eyeing the outfit you donned. A fitted halter dress that hugged your waist, flaring out over your curves, patterned with cheetah print, fishnet stockings with rips on the side, and stilettos high enough to twist an ankle. Those heels kept her attention longer than necessary. She could guess because they made your legs and ass look so much more enticing. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Well, the average woman is around 5'4,” You began very seriously. “And I am 5'7. Which means statistically speaking, I am easier to find than most women.”
Natasha stared at you. “You are not 5’7.”
Will immediately turned away to hide a laugh.
“Also, that isn't how statistics work.”
“You're a spy, not a mathematician.” You rolled your eyes.
“Neither are you.”
“I passed Statistics.” You scoffed.
“You got a B-minus.” She glanced down again, no doubt at your heaving breasts, before she looked back up to your eyes.
“A pass is a pass.” You shrugged. Then, you beamed proudly.
Natasha took your hand before you could launch into whatever argument was coming next. “Come on.”
“No.”
“No?” She raised a brow.
“I just got here,” You said. “Karen’s already left and found some dude to screw. I should really stop her from doing that.”
“You texted me for help.”
“I needed emotional support.”
“You have emotional support.”
You held up her hand triumphantly. “See?”
Despite herself, Natasha felt the corner of her mouth twitch.
Dangerous.
The second you spotted it, you pointed dramatically.
“There! You smiled!”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You're smiling right now.” You poked her cheek.
Will coughed loudly. “She's definitely smiling.”
Natasha shot him a look. The security guard suddenly found the opposite wall fascinating. You giggled and leaned against her shoulder.
The smell of your perfume mixed with sweat, club lights, and something sugary she'd long ago identified as your signature scent wafted in the air.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“The most fun.”
“How much did you drink?”
You squinted. “A lawyer never reveals information without representation present. Also, define drinks.”
Natasha closed her eyes briefly.
“Before we leave, you have to dance with me.” You made her promise. “One song.”
“One song,” Natasha held up a finger. The crowd seemed to cheer as Zapp and Roger’s “I want to be your man” began to play. You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her into you.
Natasha was a great dancer. One of the best you’d ever met. There was nothing like slow dancing with your girl in the middle of the club. Except maybe, tacos. Tacos would do.
“Let’s go,” You began to pull her outside of the club. Before you could leave, the bartender, Connie, held up your purse. “Oh, I was wondering where that went.” You reached past a couple of men to grab it.
One of them, a blonde with expired highlights, leered at you. “Where are you going? Can we come?”
“In your dreams,” You rolled your eyes. You pulled Natasha towards the door once again. “Besides, I don’t share.” You mumbled. Natasha’s expression softened in a way she didn’t bother hiding anymore.
“Good to know,” she murmured. She was finally happy to see that you both stepped onto the street. She aimed for the car and stopped for half a second.
That was all it took for you to veer off course like it was the most obvious decision in the world.
“Y/n? Where are you going?” She called after you.
“Street tacos,” you said again, more firmly this time, already scanning the sidewalk like a person on a very important mission.
Natasha followed your line of sight and immediately spotted what you meant: a late-night taco truck parked a half block down, glowing under the street lights.
Of course.
Of course, you had priorities.
“Baby,” she called, catching up to you in three quick strides, “you’re wearing stilettos.”
You waved her off without even looking back. “And? Tacos don’t judge me. I’m hungry, and my stomach’s gonna eat my back.”
“Walking like that, you’re going to fall into the sidewalk.”
“I won’t fall.”
“You’re walking like a newborn deer.”
“I’m walking like a lawyer on a case.”
Natasha exhaled through her nose, already reaching out so her hand hovered near your elbow without quite forcing you to stop. You didn’t even fight it; you just naturally drifted closer into her space.
“Yes, hi, I’ll have three of the mini steak tacos, with jalapenos on the side,” you asked politely.” You looked over to Natasha with slightly dilated pupils. “My girlfriend will have three as well.”
“I’m not really hungry,” She shook her head.
“Oh, please, you’re going to be trying to bite into mine as soon as you smell how good it is,” You finished ordering. You paid and stepped back to allow another drunken customer to order. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to fight off the cold.
“Here,” She said quietly, wrapping her jacket around your shoulders.
“Thank you,” You kissed her lightly. “You have my makeup on your lips now.” You giggled, wiping it away with your thumbs. You could tell Natasha was secretly amused by all of this. “Later, I can tell you about how Professor Meyers is destroying my life.”
“You're getting a job offer from one of the best firms in New York.” She furrowed her brow.
“That's unrelated.”
Natasha reached to grab the tacos, thanking the cashier, and walking arm and arm with you back to her car.
“Get in the car.” She said as she opened the door for you.
You paused. Then suddenly wrapped both arms around her neck. The force nearly knocked her backward.
“Thank you for coming, baby.”
The sincerity in your voice caught her off guard.
Your eyes were glassy now, not from tears exactly, but from exhaustion and love?
Natasha pressed a kiss against your forehead.
“Always.”
Your smile returned immediately.
“Okay.” You sat down. “Stay there so I don’t flash the neighborhood.” You requested, grabbing onto your seatbelt and throwing your head back against the seat.
“Sometimes, maybe you should wear panties,” She shook her head. When she was in her seat and ready, she started the car again and drove off.
“A thong counts,” You laughed. “You know I was arguing with a guy in there,” You said. “A finance bro using daddy’s money to splurge on hookers and booze. We argued for forty-five minutes about maritime law.”
“You don’t know maritime law,” Natasha flicked her indicator on to change lanes.
“I know enough to know he was annoying,” You argued. You were quiet for a few minutes longer. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?” Natasha glanced over.
“If we get married,” You began. “Would I get diplomatic immunity?”
She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach at the idea of marrying you. It wasn’t the first time you brought it up, and she loved it every time.
“No,” She denied.
“Are you sure?” You tilted your head. “What are the benefits of being an Avenger? Do you need someone to go over your contract because I can?”
“Do you plan on committing crimes?” She asked.
“No, of course not,” You shook your head. “I’m innocent.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” you said proudly, “you came to get me anyway.”
That made her glance at you.
“Yeah,” she said simply. The moment lingered for half a second longer than either of you acknowledged.
Then you shifted, her hand on your thigh moving a bit higher, like a thought had just fully formed.
“Okay,” you said suddenly.
Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly. “That tone is never good.”
“No, listen,” you insisted. “Hypothetically. If we ever decided to have kids—”
Natasha froze. You kept going, completely unaware of the internal system reboot you’d just triggered.
“—What do you think they’d be like?” You looked up at her, genuinely curious now, swaying a little in your seat. “I feel like they’d either be super well-behaved,” you continued, “or absolutely feral. There’s no in-between with our genetics.”
Natasha finally found her voice.
“…Our genetics?”
You nodded seriously.
“Yes. Like, imagine a kid who inherits your ability to read a room and my inability to stay out of one.” You began to name. “Or putting my foot in my mouth at the worst times. A little us running around. No, I think I’d like that very much.” You said.
Natasha couldn’t help but think about it too. Before, she’d think about it too. A life with you. A family with you. For a while, the only sound was the sound of the road.
Natasha glanced over at you again.
“You really don’t pace yourself,” she said under her breath, not expecting a response.
You didn’t move. You were already gone. With your head tipped against the window, lashes lowered, mouth slightly parted in the kind of deep sleep that only came after weeks of exhaustion finally catching up all at once.
She huffed a quiet laugh.
Then, after a moment, her gaze returned to the road, but her thoughts didn’t.
“You know,” she said softly, like she was talking more to the quiet than to you, “you asked about kids. I think about it sometimes,” she admitted. At a red light, she finally let herself look at you properly. Your cheek was pressed against the window. “I think…” she continued, almost uncertainly, “you’d be good at it.”
A small breath left her.
“You’re patient in the way you don’t realize. And stubborn in the way kids need. You’d definitely teach them bad habits.” She glanced at you again, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Probably starting with tacos before responsibility.”
You shifted slightly in your sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, but didn’t wake.
Natasha reached over carefully, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.
“I guess,” she said, quieter now, “I wouldn’t mind that either.”
And she drove the rest of the way home a little slower than necessary, just to keep the moment alive.
NATASHA ISN’T WEARING HER FRIENDSHIP NECKLACE AT THE START OF ENDGAME AFTER CLINT LEFT HER, BUT WHEN HE COMES BACK SHE’S WEARING IT AGAIN OH MY GODDDD MARVEL WHY DO YOU HURT ME LIKE THISSSSSS
Summary: At 30 weeks pregnant with twins, Lizzie and Y/N start to prepare for the birth.
Word Count: 11k+
Request: Yes
Warning: Fluff, Little Smut, (18+), Reader has a P.
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
---
---
Thirty weeks.
The number felt both impossibly far away and alarmingly close.
Lizzie sat on the examination bed, one hand resting beneath the curve of her stomach while the other held Y/N's. Her belly was large now—larger than either of them had expected at this stage—and every movement from the twins seemed determined to remind her they were running out of room.
Across from them, the ultrasound monitor glowed softly as the technician finished taking measurements.
"Both babies look great," she said with a smile. "Growth is right where we want it. Heartbeats are strong."
The familiar rush of relief settled over both women. Y/N squeezed Lizzie's hand once before letting go so the technician could finish. Thirty weeks meant they had become experts at these appointments. They knew the routine, knew the terminology, knew exactly how much they worried before every scan despite hearing good news nearly every time.
A few minutes later, they were seated in the doctor's office.
Dr. Ramirez reviewed the chart on her tablet before looking up. "Everything continues to look excellent. Your blood pressure is good, babies are growing well, and Baby A is still head down."
Lizzie smiled. "That's good."
"It is." The doctor glanced between them. "Any questions today?"
Y/N and Lizzie exchanged a look. There was one question they had been carrying around for weeks.
"Actually, yes," Lizzie said.
"Go ahead."
Lizzie rested both hands on her stomach. "I've always wanted a water birth."
The doctor didn't look surprised. "I know."
"But we're having twins," Lizzie continued. "Mo-di twins. We wanted to ask what you think."
The room became noticeably more serious. Dr. Ramirez set her tablet down.
"I'm glad you're asking now."
"We've read a lot of different things online," Y/N admitted.
The doctor gave a small sympathetic smile. "Which usually makes things more confusing."
"Very," Lizzie admitted.
That earned a soft laugh from all three of them.
Dr. Ramirez folded her hands together. "With a singleton pregnancy, assuming everything is healthy, I'm generally very supportive of water labor and water birth. Twins are a different conversation."
"Because of the risks?" Lizzie asked.
"Partly."
The doctor pulled up an image of the twins' latest scan. "Mo-di twins are already considered higher risk than singleton pregnancies because they share a placenta. So even when everything is going perfectly—as it is for you—we monitor more closely."
She pointed toward the image. "Baby A is head down right now, which is excellent. Baby B's position can still change after the first baby is born."
Y/N nodded. "So things can become unpredictable."
"Exactly." The doctor wasn't trying to scare them. Her tone remained calm and matter-of-fact. "After Twin A is delivered, we need to assess Twin B quickly. Sometimes everything proceeds smoothly. Sometimes Baby B changes position. Occasionally intervention becomes necessary."
Lizzie looked down at her stomach. "So a water birth isn't impossible?"
Dr. Ramirez considered her answer carefully. "I wouldn't say impossible. But I would say that many hospitals, including ours, don't offer water delivery for twin pregnancies."
Lizzie let out a small breath. Not disappointed exactly. Just processing.
The doctor continued, "Water labor is a different discussion. Laboring in water for pain management is often something we can still consider depending on how the pregnancy progresses and what things look like when labor starts."
That caught Lizzie's attention. "So I could still use the tub during labor?"
"Potentially, yes."
Y/N glanced toward Lizzie and saw some of the tension leave her shoulders.
The doctor smiled. "I know the water birth itself is important to you, but my priority is getting all three of you safely through delivery."
She looked back at the chart. "The good news is that right now everything looks excellent. My recommendation is that we keep monitoring week by week. Twin pregnancies can change quickly, especially in the third trimester."
Lizzie nodded slowly. "That makes sense."
The answer wasn't exactly what she had hoped for, but it wasn't a complete no either. More importantly, it was honest.
Y/N reached over and squeezed her knee. "We'll figure it out."
Lizzie looked at her and smiled. "Yeah."
They had already figured out so much together. This would be one more thing.
Dr. Ramirez stood. "I'd like to see you again next week."
"Next week?" Lizzie asked.
The appointments had been getting closer together.
The doctor nodded. "You're thirty weeks with mo-di twins. From here on out, we're watching things carefully. Everything is healthy, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Fair enough," Y/N said.
A few minutes later they were walking back through the parking lot. The summer air was warm. Lizzie moved slower these days, and Y/N automatically matched her pace without making a fuss about it.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Lizzie sighed. "So."
"So."
"No water birth."
"Not exactly."
Lizzie glanced at her.
Y/N opened the passenger door for her before leaning against it. "We can still ask around."
Lizzie paused halfway into the seat. "Hm?"
Y/N shrugged. "We got one opinion. A very qualified opinion."
"That's usually how doctors work."
A grin tugged at Y/N's lips. "I'm aware."
Lizzie smiled despite herself. "But?"
"But we can still talk to some birth centers. Maybe speak with a few midwives. See what their experiences are with twins."
Lizzie considered that. "You think it's worth it?"
"I think gathering information is worth it." Y/N crouched slightly beside the open door. "Maybe every answer is the same. Maybe they tell us exactly what Dr. Ramirez told us."
"And maybe they don't."
"Exactly."
Lizzie's shoulders relaxed. That was one thing she loved about Y/N. She never dismissed Lizzie's concerns, but she also never fueled them. She simply helped her work through them. Practical. Patient. Steady.
"Okay," Lizzie said. "I like that idea."
Y/N smiled. "Good."
She leaned into the car and pressed a soft kiss to Lizzie's lips. It was brief. Comfortable. The kind of kiss that came naturally after years together.
When they pulled apart, Lizzie was smiling. "Was that for agreeing with you?"
"Maybe."
"You just like hearing yourself being right."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Lizzie snorted. "Sure."
Y/N stole one more quick kiss before finally stepping back. "Get comfortable, my love.”
Lizzie settled into the seat with exaggerated care. "I'm thirty weeks pregnant with twins. Comfortable is a myth."
"Fair point." Y/N closed the passenger door and walked around the front of the car. A few moments later, the engine started.
The drive home was peaceful. The radio played quietly in the background while the late afternoon sun filtered through the windows. Neither of them felt the need to fill every silence. After months away from work, they had both gotten used to slowing down. No interviews. No filming schedules. No concerts. No flights. Just doctor's appointments, nursery planning, and waiting for two little boys who already seemed determined to keep everyone on their toes.
About halfway home, Lizzie shifted in her seat.
Immediately, Y/N glanced over. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
A pause. "They're moving."
Y/N smiled without taking her eyes off the road. "Both of them?"
"I think so."
Lizzie rested her hands over her stomach. One side pushed outward. Then the other. It looked almost ridiculous.
Y/N laughed softly.
Another movement rolled across Lizzie stomach. Lizzie shook her head fondly. "I still can't believe there are two babies in there."
Y/N's expression softened. "I can."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Lizzie looked at her. Y/N kept her attention on the road.
"You've been carrying enough snacks for two babies since week twelve."
Lizzie gasped. "I have not."
"You absolutely have."
"I was hungry."
"You ate three grilled cheese sandwiches the other day.”
"It was a difficult day."
Y/N laughed as Lizzie tried—and failed—to maintain a serious expression.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, both of them were smiling as they were finally home. Their favorite place these days.
The moment they stepped inside, their golden retriever came rushing toward them, tail wagging furiously.
"Hey, buddy," Y/N greeted, bending to scratch behind his ears.
The dog immediately abandoned Y/N and went straight to Lizzie. Traitor.
Lizzie laughed as he carefully pressed his head against her leg. "At least somebody appreciates me."
"I appreciate you."
The dog looked up at Y/N.
Y/N pointed at him. "You know exactly what you're doing."
The dog wagged harder.
Lizzie shook her head. "Come on."
Together, they headed deeper into the house. The nursery door was open as they passed, and both of them automatically slowed. Inside sat two cribs. Two dressers. Stacks of tiny clothes. Two car seats waiting in their boxes. Proof that in just a few weeks, their babies would be here.
Lizzie slipped her hand into Y/N's. Neither spoke for a moment as they stood in the doorway, taking it all in. Then a hard kick landed against Lizzie’s ribs, making her wince.
Y/N immediately looked down. "Hey."
She crouched in front of her wife and gently placed both hands on the sides of her stomach. Another little kick landed beneath her palm.
Y/N smiled. "There’s my trouble maker.”
Lizzie watched fondly as Y/N leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the curve of her bump.
"Be gentle with Mommy, buddy." A second kiss. "She's carrying both of you." The room fell quiet as they waited few seconds, until nothing.
Y/N and Lizzie look at each other as they start laughing.
"Did they just listen to you?" Lizzie asked.
"I think they did."
"That's not fair."
Y/N grinned and rested her cheek against her stomach. "See? They respect me."
"They ignore me all day."
Another few seconds passed. Still no movement. Y/N looked suspiciously pleased with herself.
"Oh, that's definitely going to your head." Lizzie scoff.
"It absolutely is." Y/N stood and wrapped an arm around Lizzie's waist. Carefully. Always carefully now. Not because Lizzie was fragile, but because there was so much more of her to love these days. Lizzie immediately melted into her side. The nursery around them seemed to fade away as they stood there together, simply enjoying the quiet.
Y/N kissed the top of her head. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"Mm."
"My back hurts."
"Mm."
"My feet hurt."
"Mm."
Lizzie tilted her head back. "You're not very helpful."
Y/N smiled. "I know."
She guided Lizzie toward the rocking chair sitting in the corner of the nursery. "Come here."
Lizzie let herself be led without argument. The moment she sat down, she sighed dramatically. "Oh wow."
"Better?"
"Much."
Y/N settled onto the floor beside the chair, resting her arms across Lizzie's knees. The position looked ridiculous—a world-famous singer sitting on the floor of a nursery because her pregnant wife looked comfortable. Neither of them cared.
Lizzie threaded her fingers through Y/N's hair. For a while, neither spoke. The silence wasn't awkward. It never was. Y/N simply rested there while Lizzie played with her hair and watched the evening sunlight spill through the nursery window.
Eventually, Lizzie smiled softly. "You know..."
"Hm?"
"You're going to be such a good mom."
Y/N looked up. The compliment caught her off guard. "You think so?"
Lizzie stared at her like the answer should have been obvious. "I know so."
Something warm settled in Y/N's chest. There were still moments when the reality of becoming a parent felt overwhelming. Not scary. Just huge. Two babies. Two tiny humans depending on them for everything.
Lizzie brushed her thumb across Y/N's cheek. "Those boys are already obsessed with you."
Y/N laughed. "They haven't even met me yet."
"They hear your voice all day."
Another soft stroke across her cheek. “They calm down when you talk."
Y/N glanced toward the bump. "They're probably just tired of hearing me."
Lizzie smiled. "No." The answer came without hesitation. "No, they're not."
Y/N's expression softened. Neither said anything for a moment. Then Y/N carefully lifted Lizzie's hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. A simple gesture. One she had done hundreds of times before. Yet somehow it still made Lizzie's heart squeeze.
"I love you," Y/N said quietly.
Lizzie smiled immediately. "I love you too."
Another kiss to her palm. Then another to the back of her hand. "Good."
Lizzie laughed. "Good?"
"Good."
Y/N rested her forehead against her knee. "Because we're getting really outnumbered soon."
A soft laugh escaped Lizzie. "Two against two."
"No." Y/N looked at her bump. “You three against me.”
“Why’s that?” Lizzie whisper as she brush her fingers through Y/N hair again.
“Because they will soon realize how weak I am for the three of you.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes, but she still pull Y/n up for a kiss.
The nursery remained calm, and for a little while neither woman worried about birth plans, doctor appointments, or the weeks still ahead. There was only this—a quiet evening, a nursery waiting for two little boys, and the growing certainty that they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
---
The weeks passed faster than either of them expected.
Thirty-one weeks became thirty-two. Thirty-two became thirty-four. Before they knew it, Lizzie's due date no longer felt far away. True to their word, they gathered opinions. A lot of opinions.
Some doctors were hesitant the moment they heard "mo-di twins." Some immediately recommended a hospital birth. Others were more open to discussing alternatives. Several experienced midwives sat down with them and patiently walked through every scenario imaginable.
The conversations weren't always easy.
Y/N took notes. Lots of notes.
Lizzie eventually banned her from bringing a second notebook.
"You don't need a notebook for your notebook."
"I absolutely do."
"No."
"Organization is important."
"You're nesting."
"I am researching."
"You color-coded the tabs."
"They're different topics."
Most of the midwives agreed on one thing: a water birth with twins wasn't automatically impossible. It simply required the right circumstances, careful monitoring, and a willingness to change plans if anything stopped looking safe.
That last part became especially important to both of them. The more information they gathered, the more they realized that no birth plan was guaranteed. The goal wasn't a perfect birth. The goal was bringing the babies safely into the world.
One evening, they called their mothers.
Jarnette listened patiently while Lizzie explained everything they'd learned. When she finished, there was a brief pause.
"Honey, when I had you and your sisters, water births weren't really something people talked about."
Lizzie laughed. "That's what I figured."
"But if you've done your research and your medical team believes it's safe, then trust that."
Across the room, Y/N nodded. It was almost exactly what they expected her to say.
A few days later, Y/N's mother gave nearly the same answer. Melissa sat at the kitchen island while Y/N made tea. "You're asking the wrong generation."
Y/N laughed. “Mama J said the same thing.”
"We didn't have nearly as many options." Melissa softened. "But you've spoken to specialists, doctors, and midwives."
"We have."
"And?"
Y/N glanced toward the living room where Lizzie was stretched across the couch with her feet elevated.
"They think it can be done if everything continues to go well."
Melissa nodded. "Then trust the people helping you."
Y/N was quiet for a moment. "What if something changes?"
"It might." The answer came easily. "And if it does, you'll adapt."
That sounded frustratingly reasonable. Which meant it was probably true.
By thirty-six weeks, the decision had finally been made.
They would proceed with the birth center and water birth plan—but only if the pregnancy remained uncomplicated, both babies continued doing well, and everyone involved felt comfortable when labor actually started. There would be no stubbornness. Not forcing a plan simply because it was the plan.
Safety first. Everything else second.
Oddly enough, making that decision lifted a weight off both of their shoulders. The uncertainty was gone.
One night, after another appointment confirmed that both babies were thriving, Lizzie was curled against Y/N on the couch. Her head rested on Y/N's shoulder while one of Y/N's hands absentmindedly rubbed slow circles over her belly.
The nursery was finished. Hospital bags were packed just in case. The car seats were installed.
Everything was ready.
Or as ready as two first-time parents could possibly be.
"You realize," Lizzie said softly, "that they're actually coming."
Y/N looked down at her. "That's generally how pregnancy works."
Lizzie pinched her side.
Y/N laughed.
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
Silence settled between them—comfortable and warm. A tiny foot pushed outward beneath Y/N's hand, then another.
Y/N smiled. "They're running out of room."
"No kidding." Lizzie roll her eyes.
Another kick landed, this one strong enough for both women to see it.
Y/N stared. Every single time it happened, she looked amazed, as though she still couldn't quite believe there were two little boys in there.
Lizzie watched her expression and smiled. "What?"
Y/N shook her head, eyes still fixed on the bump. "Nothing."
"Y/N."
She paused—a rare thing these days. "I'm excited to meet them."
The quiet honesty of it made Lizzie's chest ache. Y/N wasn't usually the emotional one. Steady? Always. Patient? Definitely. But openly vulnerable? Less often.
Lizzie reached up and cupped her cheek. "You will."
Y/N leaned into the touch immediately, a small smile appearing.
"Hopefully not tonight."
"Definitely not tonight."
---
A Week Later
It wasn't that night, but a week later.
Thirty-seven weeks.
The house was quiet. Y/N stood in the kitchen making popcorn while Lizzie rested on the couch in the living room. Their movie choices had become increasingly questionable over the last few weeks, but neither of them cared. The point wasn't the movie. The point was spending another quiet evening together before Ethan and Liam arrived.
The popcorn popped loudly. Y/N hummed to herself while reaching for a bowl.
"Baby?" Lizzie's voice carried from the living room.
"Yeah?" Y/N called back, still working.
A few seconds later—
"Baby!"
The second call was different. Urgent.
Y/N immediately dropped what she was doing and ran into the living room.
"Liz?"
She found Lizzie leaning forward on the couch, one hand gripping the cushion while the other rubbed beneath her stomach. Her face tightened.
Y/N froze.
“What—”
Lizzie took a slow breath. "I think it's time."
Y/N stared.
Time.
The babies.
Labor.
Now.
Her brain completely stopped functioning.
Another wave of discomfort crossed Lizzie's face as she rubbed her lower bump.
"Baby!”
Y/N blinked.
“Right! …I’ll call the midwife."
She spun around so fast she nearly ran into the coffee table.
Behind her, Lizzie laughed despite herself. "You practiced for this."
"I know."
"You made checklists."
"I know."
"You literally have a labor binder."
"I know!"
Y/N finally found her phone.
The midwife answered after a few rings. As Y/N explained what was happening, she dropped beside Lizzie on the couch and reached for her hand. The conversation was surprisingly calm—very unlike Y/N.
The midwife asked questions. How intense were the contractions? How long were they lasting? How far apart? Y/N timed the next one carefully. Then the next.
When the call ended, she looked at Lizzie. "They're still really far apart."
Lizzie nodded. "That's what it feels like."
"The midwife says early labor can take a while."
"How long?"
Y/N hesitated.
Lizzie narrowed her eyes. "How long?"
"Potentially hours."
Lizzie groaned. "Oh no."
"Or longer."
"Baby."
"I'm just repeating what she said."
Lizzie dropped her head back against the couch.
Y/N couldn't help smiling. The panic had faded now that there was something concrete to do. The babies weren't arriving immediately. The midwives weren't rushing over yet. Everything was progressing normally.
Another contraction came almost twenty minutes later. Y/N immediately started timing it. The moment it ended, she wrote it down.
Lizzie watched. "You brought the labor binder."
Y/N looked up. "...Maybe."
"You're actually using it."
"That's what it's for."
"You are such a nerd."
Y/N kissed her forehead. "And yet you married me."
“Yes, I did.”
Y/N smiled and settled beside her.
For a while they simply sat together. The contractions came and went, still manageable, still spaced far apart. Enough to confirm labor had started, but not enough to send the house into chaos.
At first, it wasn't too bad. Lizzie stayed curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over her legs, absentmindedly rubbing her stomach whenever a contraction came. They were uncomfortable but manageable. The twins continued moving between contractions, occasionally making the already-tight space inside her belly shift visibly.
Y/N never strayed far. Every few minutes she glanced at the timer, or at Lizzie, or both. Mostly both.
As the evening stretched on, however, the contractions slowly changed. Not dramatically. Just enough. They came a little closer together, lasted a little longer, and demanded a little more attention. Conversations between contractions remained easy enough, but when the pain hit, Lizzie was becoming quieter. More focused.
Y/N noticed immediately.
A contraction rolled through and Lizzie stopped talking mid-sentence, closing her eyes as she breathed through it. Y/N was beside her before she even realized she'd moved, one hand rubbing her back and the other holding her hand.
The moment it passed, Lizzie relaxed again.
"Better?"
"For now."
Y/N kissed her temple. For now was enough.
At some point, she sent messages to both sides of the family.
Lizzie is in Labor. Everything is okay. Contractions still far apart. We'll keep everyone updated.
The responses came almost immediately—excited, panicked, emotional. Somehow all at once. Y/N ignored most of them. She had more important things to focus on. Namely her wife.
About an hour after the contractions first began, the doorbell rang. Y/N looked up. Lizzie was in the middle of another contraction, so she squeezed her hand until it calmed down before standing.
"I'll get it."
When she opened the door, she found Jarnette standing on the porch with a large tote bag hanging from one shoulder.
"How's my girl?"
Y/N smiled. “Managing.”
Jarnette laughed softly. “That’s good."
The moment she stepped inside, the house somehow felt calmer. Not because Y/N was panicking. She absolutely wasn't panicking. Mostly.
But Jarnette had the kind of presence that made everything feel manageable.
She moved straight toward the couch. "My baby."
Lizzie immediately smiled. "Mom."
Jarnette leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"How are you doing?"
"Tired already."
"Oh, sweetheart."
Another contraction started, and Jarnette instantly shifted gears. One hand moved to Lizzie's shoulder while Y/N settled onto the other side. Together they helped her through it—breathing, waiting, talking her through it.
When it ended, Lizzie let out a slow breath.
Jarnette looked between them. "You two ready to become parents?"
Y/N and Lizzie looked at each other. Then both women burst out laughing.
"No," they answered together.
Jarnette laughed too. "Good."
"What do you mean good?" Lizzie asked.
"It means you're normal."
She sat down in the armchair nearby. "No one is ready."
That was probably true. The nursery was ready. The birth pool supplies were ready. The diapers were ready. The car seats were ready. The tiny clothes were washed and folded. But becoming parents?
Nothing could really prepare someone for that.
Another contraction came. This one noticeably stronger. Lizzie grabbed Y/N's hand. Hard.
Y/N didn't flinch. Instead, she lifted Lizzie's hand and kissed her knuckles.
"You're doing great."
Lizzie opened one eye. "You say that every contraction."
"Because you're doing great every contraction."
From across the room, Jarnette smiled quietly as she watched them. Watched the way Y/N never let go of Lizzie's hand. Watching the way Lizzie automatically leaned toward her whenever the pain increased. Watching the two of them face labor the same way they'd faced everything else. Together.
As the evening continued, the contractions gradually settled into a more consistent rhythm. Seven minutes apart. Then another seven minutes. Then another. By then, the atmosphere inside the house had shifted. Not chaotic. Focused. Purposeful.
The call was made, and before long the midwives arrived.
Y/N opened the door to find two women carrying bags and equipment. They entered with calm smiles and reassuring voices that immediately put everyone at ease.
"How's our mom doing?"
"Still talking," Y/N replied.
One of the midwives laughed. "That's usually a good sign."
While one stayed with Lizzie in the living room, the other began setting up in the guest room upstairs where they planned for labor and delivery. The birth pool equipment was unpacked. Supplies were organized. Towels appeared seemingly from nowhere. Everything began falling into place.
For the first time, Y/N realized this wasn't preparation anymore. This was actually happening.
A contraction interrupted her thoughts. Lizzie gripped the arm of the couch and lowered her head while Y/N was immediately beside her. The midwife quietly timed it.
When it ended, she smiled gently. "I think it’s time for you to move upstairs, Ms. Olsen-Y/F/N.”
Lizzie nodded. "Okay." Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. For a few steps everything seemed fine.
Then they reached the staircase. Halfway to the first step, another contraction slammed into her.
"Oh." Lizzie froze, both hands immediately finding her stomach. She couldn't move. Couldn't climb. Couldn't do much except focus on breathing through it.
Y/N's expression changed instantly. Without hesitation, she slipped one arm beneath Lizzie's knees and the other behind her back.
"Baby—"
Before Lizzie could finish, Y/N lifted her completely off the ground like she weighed nothing.
The midwives exchanged amused looks.
Lizzie let out a surprised laugh despite the contraction. "Y/N."
"What?"
"I can walk."
"Not currently. And you don’t have to. You have me.“
The contraction finally eased.
Y/N adjusted her hold. "You tell me when you want down."
Lizzie rested her forehead against Y/N's shoulder. "I don't want down."
"That's what I thought."
Jarnette laughed from behind them.
Y/N carried her all the way upstairs. The room looked entirely different now. Soft lighting. Supplies neatly arranged. The partially prepared birth pool taking up one side of the room. It felt strange seeing the space transformed into the place where Ethan and Liam would arrive.
The midwife guided Lizzie toward a large balance ball. "Let's try this."
Lizzie lowered herself onto it carefully and immediately let out a relieved breath. "Oh."
The midwife smiled. "Better?"
"A little."
"Good."
The gentle motion of the ball allowed her hips to move naturally. The discomfort didn't disappear, but it became easier to manage.
Y/N crouched in front of her, exactly where she'd been spending most of the evening. One hand rested on Lizzie's knee while the other rubbed slow circles over her thigh.
Whenever a contraction came, Lizzie automatically reached for her.
And every time, Y/N was there.
A stronger contraction built. Lizzie's fingers tightened around Y/N's. The change was impossible to miss now. The contractions were no longer uncomfortable. They hurt. A lot.
Lizzie leaned forward on the balance ball until her forehead rested against Y/N's shoulder. A low moan escaped her as the contraction peaked, and Y/N immediately wrapped both arms around her.
"I've got you."
Lizzie nodded weakly. Another breath. Then another.
Y/N stayed exactly where she was—steady, patient, one hand rubbing slow circles along Lizzie's back while the other remained tangled with hers.
The contraction finally eased. For a few precious moments, Lizzie relaxed, only for another one to begin several minutes later. And this one was stronger.
"Oh God..."
Y/N was already moving. The midwives had shown her several counter-pressure techniques earlier in the pregnancy, and now she put every one of them to use. As the contraction intensified, she pressed firmly against Lizzie's lower back.
Immediately, Lizzie let out a relieved sound.
"That helps."
Y/N adjusted her hands. "Tell me if you need more pressure."
"A little more."
Y/N nodded and pressed harder. The effect was almost immediate. Not removing the pain. Just making it manageable. Bearable.
The hours seemed to blur together after that.
Contraction.
Breathing.
Rest.
Then another contraction.
Jarnette came and went quietly, bringing water and encouragement whenever Lizzie wanted it. The midwives continued monitoring both babies, checking heartbeats, watching labor progress, and keeping everything calm and safe.
The contractions became stronger. Longer. Closer together. Each one demanding more focus than the last. By now, Lizzie spent most of them with her eyes closed, forehead pressed against Y/N's shoulder while Y/N supported her weight.
At one point, a particularly powerful contraction hit. Lizzie buried her face against Y/N's neck and groaned.
Y/N's heart clenched. Not because she was worried. Because she hated seeing her in pain. Even knowing it was part of the process. Even knowing everything was progressing normally.
She kissed the side of Lizzie's head. "You are doing so good."
Lizzie laughed weakly between breaths. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Another contraction interrupted any further argument. Eventually, one of the midwives approached.
"Let's check where we're at."
Lizzie nodded.
A few minutes later, the midwife smiled.
"What?" Y/N asked.
The midwife looked at Lizzie.
"I think it's time to get into the water."
The birth pool had been filling for a while now, warm water gently rippling beneath the soft lighting of the room. Y/N stood first and offered both hands.
"Come on, my love.”
Slowly, carefully, Lizzie rose to her feet. The next contraction wasn't far away, but there was enough time.
Y/N helped her remove the loose labor gown she'd been wearing, while the midwives checked the water temperature one final time. Then nodded. "Whenever you're ready."
Y/N wrapped an arm around Lizzie's waist, and together they moved toward the pool. Another contraction threatened to start, and Lizzie leaned heavily into her.
"I've got you."
"I know." The answer came immediately. Without hesitation. Because Wanda knew Y/N did. Always.
With Y/N's help, Lizzie carefully stepped into the pool. The warm water reached her legs first, then her hips, then her stomach. A relieved sigh escaped her almost instantly.
"Oh..."
Y/N smiled. "Better?"
"So much better."
Slowly, Lizzie lowered herself into the water. The buoyancy immediately eased some of the pressure she'd been carrying for weeks. For the first time all night, her shoulders visibly relaxed.
Y/N knelt beside the pool, one arm draped over the edge, never more than a few inches away. Lizzie reached for her hand immediately, their fingers intertwining.
Another contraction began. But this time, surrounded by warm water and supported by Y/N's steady presence, Lizzie seemed calmer. More grounded.
Everything was progressing beautifully.
And somewhere beneath the water, Ethan and Liam continued their journey toward the world, growing closer to meeting their mothers with every passing minute.
---
An Hour Later
Y/N’s POV
Lizzie's fingers were tangled in the back of your shirt.
Every contraction pulled another sound from her—a groan, a shaky breath, sometimes your name. Every time it happened, you stayed right there. One hand in hers. The other smoothing damp hair away from her face.
It’s been hours since it all started. You honestly weren't sure how many anymore. Time had become contractions. Breaths. Heartbeats. And Lizzie.
Another contraction hit, and Lizzie immediately grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you closer until your forehead bumped against hers. Her eyes squeezed shut.
"Baby..."
"I'm here." You kissed her forehead. "I'm right here."
The contraction finally eased, and for a moment the room settled.
One of the midwives moved closer. She performed another check, then looked up. A smile spread across her face.
"Lizzie."
Lizzie looked at her through exhausted eyes.
"You're fully dilated."
The room went silent. For a second, nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Then the words finally registered.
Fully dilated. Ready. The babies were coming.
A strange mix of excitement and terror exploded in your chest.
The midwife looked at Lizzie. “Your water broke a while ago. Everything looks good." Then she smiled. "When you're ready, it's time to start pushing."
Lizzie let out a nervous laugh. "Oh God."
You squeezed her hand. “You’ve got this."
Another contraction began building. Before it fully arrived, you looked at the midwife.
"Can I get in with her?"
"Of course."
You didn't waste a second. The next thing you knew, your shorts were abandoned on a nearby chair and you were carefully climbing into the warm water wearing only your shirt and boxers. Immediately you moved behind Lizzie.
She practically melted against you. Exhausted. Heavy. Trusting you to hold her up.
Your legs settled on either side of her while your arms wrapped securely around her waist. Lizzie grabbed both of your hands immediately, holding them tightly in front of her like armrests as the midwives helped adjust her position.
"There you go."
Another contraction rolled through. Lizzie groaned and squeezed your hands so hard it almost hurt.
You didn't care. "That's it, my love.”
Her head fell back against your shoulder.
The midwife knelt beside the pool. "With the next contraction, listen to your body."
Lizzie nodded weakly.
"You don't have to force anything."
Another nod.
The room grew quiet. Focused. Everyone waiting. Everyone watching. Then the next contraction arrived. A strong one.
Lizzie's entire body tensed.
The midwife smiled encouragingly. "Okay, Lizzie. You can push whenever you're ready."
You felt Lizzie grip your hands tighter. She took a breath. Then another.
You pressed a kiss against her temple. "You've got this."
A shaky breath escaped her. "I don't know if I do."
You tightened your arms around her. “You do, my love.” Another kiss against her hair. "You do."
The contraction built higher, and the moment had finally arrived.
For the first time all night, the reality hit you with full force. In a matter of minutes—or maybe longer, who knew anymore—you were going to meet Ethan and Liam.
Your sons.
The thought stole your breath. But there wasn't time to dwell on it. Because Lizzie squeezed your hands again. The contraction peaked. And with you holding her securely against your chest, she began to push.
The room seemed to narrow around a single moment. The warm water. Lizzie in your arms. The steady voices of the midwives. And the contractions.
Everything else faded away.
Lizzie pushed with the next contraction. Not rushed. Not forced. Just following her body's lead. You felt her tense against your chest before relaxing again as it passed.
"Good," one of the midwives encouraged. "That's exactly what we want."
Lizzie nodded, breathing hard. Her hair was damp against your shoulder, her hands still gripping yours tightly.
The next contraction came. Then another. Each one bringing the baby lower. Closer.
At one point, Lizzie buried her face against your shoulder. "I can't do this."
The words came out exhausted. Raw. You immediately kissed her temple. "You can, my love. I know you can.”
A shaky laugh escaped her. Then another contraction arrived. The midwife's voice brightened. "That's it, Lizzie." Another push."Perfect." Another. "Beautiful."
You could hear the excitement growing now, the kind that made your own heart start hammering. The midwife smiled. "Oh yes. I can see the head.“
You looked up immediately. "What?"
She glanced toward you briefly. "Your baby's almost here."
The words stole every bit of air from your lungs. Almost here. You tightened your arms around Lizzie. She nodded weakly.
Another contraction built. Strong and powerful. The strongest yet.
The midwife leaned forward. "Okay, Lizzie. This is a really good one."
Lizzie took a breath. Then another.
You pressed your lips against her ears. "I love you."
Tears immediately gathered in her eyes. "I love you too."
The contraction peaked and Lizzie pushed.
The room filled with encouragement.
"That's it."
"Keep going."
"Perfect."
You felt her trembling in your arms. Felt every ounce of effort she was giving.
Then suddenly—The midwife's hands moved. A tiny body emerged beneath the water.
For one suspended second, the baby remained completely submerged. Then, with practiced movements, the midwife gently lifted him upward out of the water. And immediately onto Lizzie's chest.
A loud gasp escaped Lizzie. Relief. Shock. Disbelief. All at once.
"Oh my God."
The tiny baby lay against her skin. Wet, warm, and real.
So incredibly real.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
Then the baby let out his first cry. The sound filled the room.
Beautiful. Perfect. Alive.
Tears instantly spilled down Lizzie's cheeks. "Oh my God..."
Her hands shook as she touched him.
You couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't look away. The little boy wriggled weakly against his mother's chest, announcing his arrival to the entire world. And suddenly everything changed.
The months of waiting. The appointments. The nursery. The fears. The excitement. Every single moment had led to this. You rested your cheek against Lizzie's hair and stared at your son.
Your son.
The realization hit harder than anything else had that night.
Lizzie was crying openly now, laughing and crying at the same time. The baby cried again—a strong sound, a healthy sound.
One of the midwives smiled. "Hello, little one."
Neither you nor Lizzie answered. Neither of you could. Because for the first time, you were looking at one of the tiny boys you had already loved for months.
And he was finally here.
For a few precious seconds, the world seemed to stop.
The baby lay against Lizzie's chest, tiny and perfect. His cries filled the room while Lizzie stared at him through tears, completely overwhelmed and completely in love.
You could barely look anywhere else.
Then Lizzie turned her head toward you. Her eyes met yours. A thousand emotions passed between you in a single glance.
Slowly, she looked back down at the baby. "Ethan," she whispered.
The name hit you right in the chest.
Ethan. Your son. The little boy you'd been talking to for months. Tears immediately blurred your vision.
"Ethan," you repeated softly.
But the moment didn't last long. A fresh contraction rolled through Lizzie. Her entire body tensed. The relief on her face vanished as she let out a low moan.
You immediately tightened your hold around her.
The midwives moved closer. One of them smiled reassuringly. "That's perfect."
You looked up.
"The second baby is ready."
Right. There’s still one more baby.
One of the midwives carefully supported Ethan, keeping him safe while remaining mindful of the umbilical cords because of the shared placenta. Everything remained calm. Controlled. Exactly as they had planned for.
Lizzie took several shaky breaths. Exhaustion showed on every inch of her face. Yet determination remained. The same determination that had carried her through months of pregnancy. Through labor. Through Ethan's birth.
Another contraction arrived. Lizzie leaned back against your chest.
You pressed a kiss into her damp hair. "You're doing amazing."
She laughed weakly. "Baby, shut up."
Despite everything, a smile immediately pulled at your lips. You leaned forward and kissed her forehead again. "Sorry, my love." Another kiss. "Couldn't help myself."
Lizzie opened one eye as if she wanted to glare at you. Unfortunately, another contraction hit before she could. The expression vanished instantly. A pained moan escaped her, and her entire body tensed.
Your hands tightened around hers. "That's it," one of the midwives said gently. "Work with it."
Lizzie's head fell back against your shoulder. She was far beyond conversation now. Far beyond teasing. Everything she had was focused on one thing.
Bringing the second baby into the world.
You could feel how exhausted she was. Hours of labor. The birth of Ethan. And yet somehow she kept going. Another push. Another breath.
The midwife checked again. "Perfect, Lizzie."
You pressed a kiss against her temple. "So proud of you." This time there was no sarcastic response. No eye roll. Nothing. Just another low groan as the contraction intensified.
The room remained calm. Focused.
Ethan let out a tiny cry from where the midwife was carefully supporting him. The sound made your heart squeeze.
Another contraction built. "Okay," the midwife encouraged. "This is a good one."
Lizzie nodded weakly. Then pushed.
You felt her grip your hands so tightly your fingers protested. But you didn't care. She could break every bone in them if she wanted. You would happily offer the other hand too.
"That's it."
The midwife smiled. "Beautiful."
Lizzie pushed again. Then again. The room seemed to hold its breath. The midwife's expression brightened. "Oh, here he comes.”
Your heart immediately jumped.
The next contraction arrived quickly. Lizzie buried her face against your shoulder and pushed with everything she had left. The encouragement around the room grew louder.
"Perfect."
"That's it."
"Keep going."
You felt tears prick your eyes. Not from fear. Just from watching her. Watching the woman you loved do something incredible.
Then the midwife looked up, a huge smile on her face. "I can see him."
The words hit you like a freight train. You immediately kissed Lizzie's hair. "Almost there, my love.”
Lizzie nodded against your shoulder. One more contraction was already beginning. You felt it before she even said anything. Her entire body tensed. Her fingers tightened around yours.
Then a broken moan escaped her lips. The strongest one yet. "Oh God—"
You immediately pressed your cheek against her hair. "I've got you."
The midwives leaned forward. Everyone in the room focused on the same thing. The final push. Lizzie took a shaky breath. Then another. You could feel how exhausted she was. How much she had already given. But somehow she found more.
The contraction peaked. And Lizzie pushed one last time. The room erupted.
"That's it!"
"Perfect!"
"Keep going!"
You held her tightly against your chest as she gave everything she had left. Then suddenly—Relief. The tension left her body all at once.
The midwife's face lit up. "There he is."
For one suspended heartbeat, the world stopped. Then the second baby emerged into the water. Tiny. Perfect.
And immediately, just like his brother, he was gently lifted from the water. A loud cry followed almost instantly. Strong. The sound hit you straight in the heart. The midwife carefully brought him forward, placing him against Lizzie's chest beside Ethan.
Lizzie gasped. Not from pain this time. From pure disbelief. Two babies. Two tiny boys. Both of them finally here. Her hands trembled as she wrapped her arms around them, one on each side.
Ethan squirmed.
The second baby cried loudly beside him.
For a moment, Lizzie simply stared. Unable to look away. Unable to fully process what she was seeing. Then tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "Oh my God. My babies.”
You couldn't speak either. Not because you didn't want to. Because the moment you saw both boys together on Lizzie's chest, something inside you completely broke. A sob escaped before you could stop it. You immediately buried your face against Lizzie's shoulder. Crying. Full-on sobbing.
Months of worry. Months of excitement. Months of imagining this moment. All of it came crashing down at once.
Lizzie laughed through her own tears. A tired, emotional laugh.
"Baby..."
You shook your head against her shoulder, unable to answer. Another sob escaped. Your arms tightened around both her and the boys. Careful. Protective.
As though you wanted to hold your entire family at once.
"Baby." Lizzie's voice was softer this time.
You finally lifted your head. Your face was a disaster. Tears everywhere.
Lizzie looked exhausted. Beautiful. Completely overwhelmed. And somehow still smiling at you. You looked down at Ethan and Liam one more time before your gaze returned to her. The woman who had just spent hours in labor. The woman who had carried your sons for nine months. The woman who had just brought them into the world.
Your throat tightened again. Fresh tears immediately gathering.
Lizzie's eyes softened. "What’s” wrong, baby?”
You shook your head, unable to stop staring at her. "Thank you." The words came out broken. Raw. Completely sincere. "Thank you."
Lizzie immediately started crying again.
You laughed weakly, then cupped her cheek. "You are amazing."
She shook her head. "No."
"Yes." Another tear rolled down your face. "Absolutely yes." You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against hers. "I love you so much."
Lizzie's eyes closed.
For a moment, it was just the two of you. And the boys between you.
Then one of the midwives approached gently. "Okay, moms." The word made both of you smile immediately.
The midwife smiled back. "We need to take care of a few things now."
You nodded.
The babies had remained attached while everyone settled and enjoyed those first moments together. Now it was time.
The cords were clamped. The final connection from pregnancy to the outside world. You and Lizzie watched through blurry eyes as the midwives carefully handled everything. Neither of you said much. Neither of you could.
Soon after, Ethan and Liam were carefully taken to be cleaned, weighed, and assessed nearby. Not far. Still within sight. The moment the babies left her chest, Lizzie visibly missed them.
You immediately wrapped your arms around her. "I know."
Her head dropped against your shoulder. "So weird."
"I know."
The room quieted again.
The next stage wasn't nearly as dramatic. The placenta still needed to be delivered. The midwives continued monitoring blood loss and checking on Lizzie while making sure everything looked exactly as it should. And thankfully, it did. Everything continued beautifully.
So for the next half hour, you stayed exactly where you had been all night—holding her, supporting her, keeping her warm, keeping her close.
At some point, Lizzie had practically fallen asleep against your chest. Exhaustion finally catching up to her.
You didn't blame her. Not even a little.
When the midwives eventually confirmed she could get out of the water, you stood carefully. Then immediately reached for her. Lizzie tried to stand but immediately reconsidered.
“Mm...”
You smiled. "Yeah."
"My legs don't work."
"They've had a long day."
A very long day. Without another word, you scooped her into your arms. Lizzie didn't even pretend to protest. She simply wrapped her arms around your neck and rested her head against your shoulder. Completely done.
The midwife led the way toward the bathroom. There she explained how Lizzie should rinse off and what to expect over the next several hours. Once she was satisfied everything was understood, she left the two of you alone.
The bathroom became quiet. Peaceful. Steam slowly filling the room. You helped Lizzie out of what remained of her clothing, then removed your own soaked shirt and boxers. For several minutes, neither of you spoke. You simply helped her wash away the long night. Careful. Supporting her whenever she swayed. Making sure the water stayed warm. Making sure she didn't have to do anything herself.
Lizzie watched you through tired eyes. At one point, she reached up and touched your cheek.
"What?"
She smiled softly. "Nothing."
You leaned down and kissed her forehead. Everything felt softer now. Slower. The storm had passed. The boys were here. Everyone was safe and nothing else mattered.
Eventually, once she was clean and wrapped in fresh clothes, you carried her again. Straight to the master bedroom. The room looked almost exactly the same as it had that morning. And yet completely different.
Because now there were four people in the family instead of two.
You carefully lowered Lizzie onto the bed. The moment her head touched the pillow, she sighed. A deep, exhausted sigh. You sat beside her immediately, one hand finding hers. Not letting go.
Lizzie turned her head toward you. Her eyes were already drifting closed. "You okay?"
The question made you laugh. A watery laugh. "You just had twins, Liz.”
"And?"
"And you're asking if I'm okay?"
A sleepy smile appeared on her face. You leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. Then the corner of her mouth.
"I'm more than okay." Your voice cracked. Because the truth was simple. Your wife was safe. Your sons were safe. And somewhere down the hall, two tiny newborn boys were waiting to be brought to their mothers.
As if summoned by the thought, a soft knock came from the bedroom door. One of the midwives entered. And in her arms—
Your heart immediately stopped. The boys. Both of them wrapped tightly in soft blankets. So small. So unbelievably small. "They're ready for mom."
Lizzie immediately pushed herself up a little, ignoring the fact that she had very recently delivered twins. The midwife laughed. "Easy there."
But she carefully settled Ethan into Lizzie's arms. Then Liam.
The moment both boys were resting against her chest, the entire room seemed to soften. Lizzie looked down and completely melted. “Hi.” She whispered as tears instantly gathered again.
Ethan stretched one tiny arm and Liam yawned. Lizzie looked like she might cry herself into another dimension.
You sat beside her on the bed, one hand rubbing slow circles across her back, unable to stop smiling. Unable to stop staring. The twins looked so tiny against her.
So peaceful. So perfect.
Minutes passed. Nobody felt any need to fill the silence. The room remained quiet except for the occasional newborn noise—tiny squeaks, little grunts, sounds that somehow already felt familiar.
Then Lizzie looked up. Her eyes found yours. "You want to hold them?"
You blinked. "What?"
"The boys."
Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. For the first time all night, you looked genuinely nervous.
Lizzie immediately smiled. "Baby."
"What if I do it wrong?"
The midwife laughed. "You won't."
You looked down at the twins. Then back at Lizzie. Then back at the twins.
Lizzie's smile softened. "They're your boys too."
That completely destroyed whatever resistance remained. You let out a shaky breath. "Okay."
The midwife immediately moved into action. A large comfortable chair sat beside the bed. You settled into it carefully, suddenly feeling far more nervous than you had while helping deliver two babies.
"You're doing great," Lizzie teased.
"Don't start."
She laughed.
The midwife helped position your arms, then carefully transferred Ethan first. Your breath caught. Immediately. The tiny baby settled against your chest, warm and real. You froze completely. The room could have exploded and you wouldn't have noticed.
"Oh."
That was all you managed.
The midwife smiled. "Ready for number two?"
You nodded, unable to look away from Ethan.
A moment later Liam joined his brother. Now both babies rested against your chest. One tucked beneath each arm. Tiny heads against your shirt. Tiny bodies rising and falling with each breath. And suddenly the room became very blurry.
You hadn't even noticed the tears starting again.
"Oh no," Lizzie whispered.
You looked up. She was crying too. Hard this time.
"Why are you crying?"
The question came out between your own tears.
Lizzie laughed through hers. "Look at you."
"What?"
"Look at you." You looked down. At Ethan. At Liam. At the two little boys sleeping against your chest as if they belonged there. As if that spot had been waiting for them all along.
Your throat tightened. The babies looked impossibly safe. Impossibly loved. You kissed the top of Ethan's head. Then Liam's. Carefully. Still terrified you might somehow break them.
"They're so small."
Lizzie laughed. "They were literally just born."
"I know."
"They're supposed to be small."
You shook your head, still staring, unable to look anywhere else. Lizzie watched from the bed, tears still occasionally slipping down her cheeks. And you sat in the chair holding both of your sons against your chest. Completely captivated, overwhelmed, and completely in love.
---
No one’s POV
Before Lizzie fell asleep, there was one more important thing to do.
The boys needed to eat.
The midwife helped arrange pillows around Lizzie while she rested against the headboard of the bed. She looked exhausted—completely and utterly exhausted—but the moment Ethan was placed in her arms, some new source of energy seemed to appear.
Y/N sat beside her holding Liam. The baby fit entirely against her chest.
It was ridiculous how terrified she was. Y/N had spent years performing in front of thousands of people without fear. Now she was terrified of moving too quickly because a seven-pound human was sleeping against her.
The midwife smiled knowingly. "Ready?"
Lizzie nodded. The first feeding took a little patience. Ethan was awake. Very awake. The moment he was brought close, he immediately began rooting around.
Y/N laughed softly. "Oh, so he's very hungry."
The midwife chuckled. "That usually means he's figuring it out."
Lizzie looked down nervously. "Am I doing this right?"
"You're doing great." The midwife adjusted Ethan slightly. A moment later, he latched.
Lizzie gasped. Not from pain. From surprise.
"Oh."
Y/N immediately looked over. "What? Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s just a little weird.”
The words came out sounding almost offended. As if she hadn't expected the tiny newborn to know what he was doing.
The midwife laughed. "Ethan seems very motivated."
That earned a sleepy laugh from Lizzie.
Y/N watched the scene quietly. Her wife. Their son. The first feeding. Another one of those moments that would never happen again for the first time. A strange ache settled in her chest. The good kind. The kind that came from realizing how lucky she was.
After a while, Ethan's feeding slowed. The midwife checked him. Satisfied.
Then it was Liam's turn. Y/N carefully passed him over. Immediately she noticed the difference. Ethan had attacked the situation like it was a competitive sport.
Liam blinked sleepily. Yawned. Then seemed to contemplate whether eating was really necessary. The entire room laughed.
"He's thinking about it," Y/N said.
Lizzie smiled tiredly. "He gets that from you."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
The midwife adjusted Liam gently. "Come on, little guy."
Liam seemed unconvinced. For several seconds he simply stared. Then finally decided food was, in fact, a good idea. The moment he latched successfully, the room practically celebrated.
"There we go."
Y/N immediately melted. "Oh my God." The tiny sounds Liam made while feeding nearly destroyed her.
Everything about him felt tiny. Tiny fingers. Tiny nose. Tiny breaths. Tiny little noises. At one point his hand escaped the blanket and rested against Lizzie. The sight hit Y/N so hard she had to look away for a second.
"Are you crying again?" Lizzie asked.
“No.”
"Baby." Lizzie reached over and squeezed Y/N's hand.
For several minutes, neither woman spoke. They simply watched. Watched their sons begin their very first meal.
Eventually Liam finished too. The midwife checked them over one more time before helping settle them comfortably. Only then did exhaustion finally win. Lizzie's eyes kept drifting closed. Her body sinking deeper into the pillows.
Y/N noticed immediately. "You need sleep."
Lizzie looked ready to argue. Then yawned. The argument died instantly.
Y/N smiled. “Sleep babe.”
A few minutes later, with the boys fed and content, Lizzie finally drifted off. One hand still resting where the twins had been. A small smile lingering on her face.
Y/N sat quietly beside the bed holding both boys. Watching her sleep. Watching them breathe.
Eventually, Y/N stood up with the boys secured in her arms. She looked toward Lizzie one more time. Her wife was completely asleep.
Y/N leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Lizzie's forehead.
"I love you."
Lizzie didn't wake. She just made a sleepy little sound, making Y/N smile. Then quietly slipped out of the bedroom.
The hallway was dimly lit. Peaceful. And waiting just outside the door sat Jarnette.
The moment she saw Y/N emerge, she stood immediately. "How is she?"
Y/N glanced back toward the closed door. "Sleeping."
Relief flooded Jarnette's face. "Good."
"She finally crashed."
Jarnette laughed softly. "I figured."
Y/N looked down at the boys. Then carefully shifted the blanket so Jarnette could see them better. The reaction was immediate. “They are so beautiful, Y/N.” Jarnette's hand flew to her mouth. Tears instantly filled her eyes.
Y/N smiled. "They're pretty cute."
Jarnette let out a shaky laugh. "Oh my God." She stepped closer.
The babies remained asleep. Tiny faces peeking out from their blankets.
"Ethan," Y/N whispered, nodding toward one. Then the other. "And Liam."
Jarnette laughed and cried at the same time. "Oh, look at them." Her voice cracked. "They're perfect."
Y/N looked down at them. At the two tiny boys resting against her chest. And for the thousandth time that night, she felt her heart completely melt. "Yeah."
Jarnette carefully touched one tiny hand. Liam immediately wrapped his fingers around hers. Pure reflex. The gesture absolutely destroyed her. Another tear escaped. "Oh no."
Y/N laughed. "What?"
"I'm a grandmother." The words seemed to hit her all over again. She looked between the boys. Then toward the bedroom door. Then back to Y/N. "I'm a grandmother."
Y/N grinned. “Yes, you are, Mama J.”
Jarnette wiped her eyes. Immediately failing when more tears replaced them. "You two actually did it."
That made Y/N glance down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Toward the woman sleeping inside. The woman who had carried these boys. The woman who had trusted Y/N through every appointment, every fear, every decision.
A soft smile appeared on her face. "No." Her voice came out quiet. Full of emotion.
"Lizzie did it."
Jarnette's eyes softened immediately. "Yeah."
They stood there for a moment. Looking at the babies. Looking at the future.
---
Next Morning
Wanda’s POV
The next morning felt strangely peaceful. For the first time in months, there wasn’t a baby kicking Lizzie’s ribs, tiny feet pressing against her bladder, or an enormous belly making it impossible to roll over comfortably. Instead, there was only exhaustion—the deep, bone-deep kind that she never experienced before.
Slowly, Lizzie blinked awake and stared at the ceiling for a moment before realizing someone was gently running their fingers through her hair. She turned her head and found Y/N sitting beside the bed, already awake, already watching her. The second their eyes met, Y/N smiled.
“Hi”
Lizzie smiled immediately. Y/N leaned down and kissed her softly.
“Good morning, my love.”
“Morning.”
Her voice was sleepy and scratchy, exactly like someone who had spent the previous day giving birth.
“How are you feeling?” Y/N asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Lizzie considered it. “Sore.”
“Fair.”
“Tired.”
“Also fair.”
“My entire body hates me.”
Y/N kissed her forehead.
They simply looked at each other for a moment, still processing that everything had changed. Somewhere in their house were two tiny newborn boys. Their boys.
Then Lizzie frowned. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Where did you sleep?”
“The guest room.”
Lizzie stared. “The guest room?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“You needed rest.”
“Our bed is king size.”
“It is.”
“We have plenty of room.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you sleep here?”
Y/N took her hand. “Because you needed a proper night’s sleep.”
Lizzie immediately pouted.
“Sweetheart—”
“I needed my wife.”
Y/N’s expression softened instantly.
“I wanted my wife.”
“Your body is sore…”
“I wanted my wife.”
Y/N sighed. The battle was already lost.
“Okay.”
Before Y/N could say anything else, Lizzie tugged on her hand.
“Come here.”
“Liz—”
“Come here.”
Laughing, Y/N carefully climbed onto the bed beside her. Lizzie immediately scooted closer, then closer still, until she was practically attached to Y/N’s side. A small groan escaped her as she settled.
“Oh.”
Y/N looked concerned immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Another tiny wince. “It just hurts.”
Y/N wrapped an arm around her carefully, as though she were made of glass. Lizzie immediately tucked herself against her wife’s chest, satisfied.
“There.”
Y/N smiled. “There?”
“There.”
Her eyes were already drifting shut again. Y/N pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“You know you’re impossible.”
“Mm.”
“I was trying to let you rest.”
“I rest better with you.”
The answer came without hesitation, simple and honest. Y/N’s heart melted all over again. She tightened her arm around Lizzie just enough to hold her without hurting her, and Lizzie sighed contentedly against her chest.
The sound alone made every second spent sleeping in the guest room feel ridiculous.
A few moments later, Y/N brushed her fingers through Lizzie’s hair again. “Your mom made breakfast.”
Lizzie made a sleepy noise. “Hm?”
“Breakfast. Do you want some?”
Lizzie lifted her head just enough to kiss Y/N’s cheek—a silent yes—before immediately settling back against her. Y/N smiled.
“You seem very awake.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Ah. That explains it.”
Lizzie weakly pinched her side.
Before Y/N could tease her further, a cry suddenly came from the bassinet beside the bed. Both women turned immediately. A second cry followed, tiny and unmistakably newborn.
Y/N smiled. “Good morning, Liam.”
Another little cry answered.
“He’s hungry,” Lizzie said fondly.
“Probably.”
Y/N carefully helped her sit upright against the headboard. Every movement was slow and gentle; yesterday’s soreness was still very real.
“Comfortable?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly isn’t comfortable.”
“It’s the best we’re getting today.”
Y/N kissed her temple. “I’ll get him.”
The bassinet sat only a few feet away, a constant reminder that everything had changed overnight. Twenty-four hours ago there had been two babies inside Lizzie. Now they were here, sleeping beside their bed and already running the house.
Y/N carefully lifted Liam. The little boy immediately fussed louder, his tiny face scrunching as his fists waved in the air.
“Oh, buddy.” She kissed the top of his head. “There you are.”
The baby made another unhappy noise.
“I know.”
Y/N rocked him gently against her chest before bringing him back to the bed. By the time she sat beside Lizzie again, Liam had calmed enough. She carefully placed him into Lizzie’s waiting arms.
“There you go.”
Lizzie instantly softened. Every time she looked at the boys, she softened, as if her entire body recognized them before her mind could catch up.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Liam blinked sleepily up at her. Still unhappy, but quieter.
Lizzie adjusted her shirt while Y/N helped position him the way the midwife had shown them. The first attempt was awkward. The second was better.
Then Liam latched. Immediately.
Both women froze before looking at each other.
“We did it.”
Lizzie laughed softly. “We did.”
Y/N’s chest tightened in that overwhelming, heart-too-full kind of way. Liam’s tiny hand rested against Lizzie as he fed peacefully, as if he had been doing this forever.
The room settled into a peaceful silence. For almost thirty whole seconds.
Then a loud cry erupted from the bassinet.
Both women looked over immediately. Another cry followed, then a third—louder, stronger, and significantly more offended.
Y/N laughed. “Ethan.”
The crying somehow got louder. She stood and carefully lifted the second twin. The moment Ethan was in her arms, he voiced his complaints even more dramatically.
“Okay.”
Cry.
“I’m here…I can hear you buddy.” Y/N kissed his head. Nothing. She bounced him gently. Nothing.
“Buddy.”
Cry.
“You know your brother is eating.”
Lizzie laughed around Liam.
Y/N looked down at her son. “You’re very dramatic.”
Cry.
“Oh no.”
Lizzie was definitely laughing now. “He gets that from you.”
“I do not.”
Ethan immediately let out another loud cry. Both women looked at him. Then at each other.
Y/N sighed. “Okay. You absolutely get that from me.”
The baby continued protesting his circumstances as if proving her point. Meanwhile, Liam remained perfectly content in Lizzie’s arms, quiet and focused entirely on breakfast.
The contrast was ridiculous—one twin calm and easygoing, the other loudly expressing every opinion he had. And somehow, despite being exhausted, sore, emotional, and running on almost no sleep, Y/N and Lizzie couldn’t stop smiling as they watched their boys begin their first morning at home.
---
The first few weeks were hard.
Not bad. Not unhappy. Just hard.
Nobody had prepared them for how exhausting newborn twins could be. The boys woke constantly—sometimes because they were hungry, sometimes because they needed diaper changes, sometimes because they wanted to be held, and sometimes because they were babies and apparently felt no obligation to explain themselves.
Day and night blurred together. Three in the morning looked suspiciously similar to three in the afternoon. Sleep became something that happened in tiny pieces rather than full nights.
The strange thing was that Y/N never seemed to complain. Not once.
The first time Ethan woke crying at two in the morning, Lizzie immediately tried to sit up. Y/N gently pushed her back onto the pillow.
“I’ve got him.”
“Baby—”
“I’ve got him.”
Then she disappeared toward the bassinet.
The same thing happened again at four. And six. And every night after that.
The only time Y/N woke Lizzie was when one of the boys needed to be fed. Everything else? Y/N handled it. Diapers. Rocking. Swaddling. Pacing the bedroom at ridiculous hours. She did it all.
Lizzie protested every single time.
“Y/N.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
“No.”
“I can help.”
“You are helping.”
Lizzie narrowed her eyes. “How?”
Y/N adjusted Liam against her shoulder. “You carried them for nine months.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts.”
“It doesn’t.”
Y/N pointed at her. “You grew two humans.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes.
“You delivered them.”
Another eye roll.
“You are recovering.”
“Y/N.”
“And now it’s my turn.”
The conversation happened so often that eventually even Jarnette started laughing whenever she heard it, because the result was always the same.
Y/N won.
Not because Lizzie agreed. Because Y/N was stubborn. Ridiculously stubborn. Especially when it came to taking care of the people she loved.
And right now, there were three people she loved more than anything.
Lizzie’s recovery went well. The midwives were pleased. The doctor was pleased. Everything healed exactly as expected.
That didn’t mean it was easy.
The first few days were rough. Everything hurt. Walking hurt. Sitting hurt. Standing hurt. Even laughing sometimes hurt. Y/N never left her to deal with it alone. Every morning, Lizzie’s medications were waiting before she even woke up. Cooling packs were always ready. Fresh water somehow appeared beside the bed. Meals appeared as if by magic—mostly because Jarnette cooked enough food to feed an entire village.
When Lizzie needed help bathing, Y/N was there. Helping her in and out. Making sure the water wasn’t too hot. Washing her hair when lifting her arms became uncomfortable. Helping her dry off afterward. Never making her feel embarrassed. Never making her feel helpless. Just loved.
One afternoon, about a week after the birth, Lizzie stood at the bottom of the stairs staring upward. Y/N immediately recognized the look.
“What?”
“The stairs.”
Y/N looked at the stairs. Then back at her. Then at the stairs again.
“No.”
“Baby.”
“No.”
“I can walk.”
“You can.”
“Then why—”
Before she could finish, Y/N scooped her into her arms.
“Y/N!”
“You literally just said stairs.”
Lizzie laughed despite herself. “I can walk up the stairs.”
“I know.”
“Then put me down.”
Instead of answering, Y/N stopped on the stairs.
Lizzie frowned. “Baby—”
The rest of the sentence vanished when Y/N leaned in and kissed her. Not rushed. Not playful. A deep, lingering kiss—the kind that said everything Y/N struggled to put into words. When they finally pulled apart, Lizzie blinked at her, completely caught off guard. Y/N rested their forehead against hers.
“Let me take care of you.”
The words were quiet and simple, but they hit harder than any argument could have. Because Lizzie knew exactly what Y/N meant. Not just today. Not just while she recovered. Always. The same way Lizzie had carried their sons for nine months. The same way she had spent hours bringing them into the world. The same way they had always taken care of each other.
Something in Lizzie’s expression softened immediately. The protest died before it could leave her mouth. Instead, she whispered, “Okay.”
Y/N smiled—a small smile reserved only for her.
Then Lizzie buried her face in Y/N’s neck, wrapped her arms tighter around her shoulders, and Y/N carried her the rest of the way upstairs.
---
The next afternoon was quiet.
Or as quiet as a house with newborn twins could be. Meaning one baby was asleep, the other was threatening to wake up, and everyone was trying not to breathe too loudly.
Lizzie sat at the kitchen island with a cup of tea while Jarnette prepared lunch. Their conversation drifted between babies, sleep schedules, and whatever random topic happened to come up.
Eventually, Jarnette glanced toward the living room and immediately smiled.
“She’s doing great.”
Lizzie followed her gaze.
Y/N was sprawled across the couch, completely unconscious. One arm hung off the side while the television played quietly in the background. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Lizzie knew that. She had simply sat down for a minute, and apparently that minute had turned into a nap.
Jarnette laughed softly. “Poor thing.”
Lizzie smiled, though the sight made her heart ache a little. Y/N looked exhausted. Not unhealthy. Not overwhelmed. Just tired.
“I’m lucky.”
The words slipped out before Lizzie could stop them.
Jarnette looked at her, then toward Y/N, before nodding. “You are.” There wasn’t even a hint of teasing in her voice. Just honesty.
Lizzie watched her wife sleep. The woman who insisted on changing diapers at three in the morning. The woman who walked endless laps around the bedroom with crying babies. The woman who refused to let Lizzie carry laundry baskets, groceries, or anything heavier than a newborn.
The woman who still looked at Lizzie like she’d hung the moon.
A small smile appeared on Jarnette’s face.
A sudden cry echoed through the baby monitor. Y/N sat upright immediately, like someone had flipped a switch. One second asleep, the next completely alert.
“Ethan,” she mumbled.
A second cry joined the first. “Liam too.”
Y/N was already pushing herself off the couch, already moving, already preparing to head down the hall. But before she could stand, Lizzie reached her.
Y/N looked up in confusion. “Baby?”
For the first time in weeks, Lizzie was the one stopping her. Not the other way around. She gently placed her hands on Y/N’s shoulders.
“Sit.”
“What?”
“Sit.”
Y/N blinked. The baby monitor crackled again, both boys making their presence known.
“I should—”
“I’ve got it.”
Y/N stared at her as if the concept itself didn’t make sense.
Lizzie couldn’t help smiling. Carefully, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips, then another just because she could. When she pulled back, her thumb brushed across Y/N’s cheek. The faint exhaustion beneath her eyes was impossible to miss. The messy hair. The way she still looked half asleep. The way she’d spent weeks putting everyone else’s needs before her own.
Lizzie’s heart squeezed. “You can sleep a little more.”
Y/N immediately shook her head. “No, sweetheart—”
“Y/N Olsen-Y/F/N.”
The use of her full name stopped her instantly. A trick that worked surprisingly well.
Lizzie smiled softly and stroked her cheek again. “I mean it. I’ve got it.”
Y/N looked toward the hallway. Then toward the monitor. Then back at her wife.
The boys cried again.
For a moment, Y/N looked torn. Then Lizzie kissed her forehead.
“Let me take care of you too.”
The words landed exactly the way Y/N’s had weeks earlier on the staircase. The same promise. The same love. Y/N’s eyes softened immediately. And finally—She nodded.
“Okay.”
Lizzie smiled. “Good.”
Y/N reached for her hand before she could leave. Their fingers intertwined for a brief moment, a familiar gesture and a quiet reminder. Then Lizzie squeezed once and let go.
“I’ll bring them back when they’re fed.”
Y/N nodded, still looking unconvinced, still looking like she’d rather be the one getting up. But she stayed seated. As Lizzie disappeared down the hallway toward the nursery, the cries gradually grew louder before softening as she reached the boys.
Y/N listened. A small smile appearing despite herself. The sounds of her wife soothing their sons drifted through the house—gentle, warm, comforting. The same way her voice had always been.
And for the first time since Ethan and Liam were born, Y/N allowed herself to relax back against the couch. Just for a little while. Just long enough to rest. While down the hall, Lizzie gathered their boys into her arms and quietly reminded them that they were loved.
Summary: Back home you are surrounded by the people who never left your side, while Natasha struggles to find her place in yours.
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader
Tags/Warnings: 18+ heavy emotional themes, pregnancy loss/miscarriage, grief, post-surgery recovery, we love the Maximoff's, Aliah just being...her :( Natasha "Anything for you" Romanoff
Author's Note: I already posted a new fic: The Assessment ft. Wanda on my Patreon account^^
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The discharge process took forever. You sat carefully in a chair, one hand resting absentmindedly over your abdomen while waiting for the doctor to call your name. The soreness was still there, dull and heavy, but manageable enough that you stopped visibly reacting every few minutes.
Natasha sat beside you with Aliah asleep against her chest, one arm wrapped securely around your daughter while the other rested on her own knee. Every now and then her eyes drifted toward you automatically, checking if you were uncomfortable.
Across the waiting room, a mother—probably around your age—walked past carrying a newborn bundled carefully against her chest.
Your eyes followed them without meaning to.
Then another mother passed by pushing a stroller, talking quietly to someone beside her while her baby reached tiny hands toward the hanging toys overhead.
Your chest tightened painfully. You looked away quickly, but it didn't help.
Everywhere you looked there were babies.
Tiny socks. Baby carriers. Soft crying. Mothers bouncing infants gently in their arms while waiting for appointments.
Natasha noticed the shift in your expression immediately. "Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"
You nodded too quickly. "Yeah."
The lie sounded weak even to your own ears.
Your throat tightened as you stared down at your hands instead, blinking hard while memories pushed themselves forward anyway.
What it could've looked like.
What it would've felt like.
The weight of your baby in your arms. Aliah meeting her sibling. Natasha finding out in a way that wasn't grief and blood or hospital monitors.
Beside you, Natasha went very still. She knew—of course she knew. She shifted Aliah carefully against her chest before leaning slightly closer to you.
"Do you want to wait outside?" she asked quietly.
"No, I'm fine." But your voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
Another woman walked by carrying twins this time, one baby asleep against her shoulder while the other fussed softly in her partner's arms.
You looked down immediately.
Natasha swallowed hard beside you.
Then very carefully, slowly enough that you had time to pull away if you wanted to, she reached for your hand resting on the chair between you. Her fingers curled around yours gently.
And you let her hold it. Your eyes burned suddenly and you pressed your lips together hard, trying to hold yourself together in a waiting room full of strangers.
Her thumb moved slowly against your knuckles. "Hey," she whispered softly.
You shook your head once, staring at the floor. Natasha's grip tightened around your hand. When you finally looked at her, her eyes were already glassy. And somehow that made it worse. Because there was grief all over her face now too.
Wanda finally came back, already talking to the nurse, her eyes immediately landed on your tangled hands. And before your bestfriend could even say anything, you pulled your hand away from Natasha. But surprisingly, Wanda didn't say anything. Instead, she immediately shifted focus to you.
"Come on," she said softly, already moving closer to support you.
The second you stood up completely, both women moved at the same time.
"Careful."
"Slow down."
You blinked tiredly between them. "I'm literally just standing."
Neither of them looked convinced.
Wanda immediately slid an arm around your waist while Natasha adjusted Aliah higher against her chest so she could walk closer beside you. The walk toward the elevator felt longer than it should have, mostly because everyone stayed painfully alert around you. Every time your expression tightened even slightly from the discomfort, Wanda looked ready to drag you back upstairs while Natasha visibly tensed beside you.
Outside, the morning sun felt warm against your skin.
The walk through the parking lot was slow. Wanda kept most of your weight leaning against her despite your repeated attempts to insist you could walk on your own.
Meanwhile, the tension between your bestfriend and Natasha, though, was impossible to ignore. Wanda barely acknowledged Natasha unless necessary, while Natasha stayed hyperaware of the distance she should put whenever your bestfriend is around.
When you finally reached Wanda's car, she immediately opened the passenger door for you.
"I've got her," Wanda said flatly as she now walked towards Natasha to get Aliah.
Natasha's arms tightened around her daughter instinctively before relaxing again. Her jaw flexed slightly, but she didn't argue. Instead, she looked at you.
You were too exhausted for the tension pressing from both sides.
"She can come," you said quietly before things could escalate.
Wanda looked at you immediately.
You sighed softly and leaned heavier against the car for a second. "She can come," you clarified carefully. "I just…" Your throat tightened slightly. "I don't want Aliah upset right now."
Wanda exhaled slowly through her nose, clearly irritated, but stopped herself from arguing. "Fine."
You looked at Natasha, "Aliah can ride with you only if you have a car seat for her."
"Yeah, I always have it in my car." Then Natasha stayed quiet, but the relief on her face was immediate enough to hurt. She looked down quickly afterward, trying to compose herself.
Carefully, she walked over to her car parked nearby and opened the backseat. Aliah stirred sleepily the second Natasha started buckling her in.
"No…" your daughter mumbled weakly, grabbing onto Natasha's sleeve.
Natasha's expression softened instantly. "I know, malyshka," she whispered gently. "I'm right here."
She waited until Aliah relaxed again before pulling a blanket around her. Then her hand lingered briefly against the car door after she closed it. Her eyes lifted toward you through Wanda's open passenger window.
Wanda climbed into the driver's seat without another word while you slowly settled yourself into the passenger seat carefully, trying not to aggravate the pain in your abdomen. The second the engine started, Natasha stepped back toward her own car.
The drive was painfully quiet.
You rested your head against the window while Wanda drove carefully through the traffic. Every bump on the road still hurt a little and exhaustion sat so heavily in your body you could barely keep your eyes open.
Wanda glanced at you once in the sidemirror before looking away.
"So…" she started carefully, keeping her tone light with you. "You and…her."
You immediately looked at your bestfriend. She literally hates Natasha that she can't even say her name.
"There's something going on there?" she added after a beat.
You sighed quietly and rubbed your forehead. "It's not like that."
Wanda hummed a little like she didn't fully believe you.
"I'm not judging," she said, finally glancing at you for a second. "I just need to understand what I'm walking into."
"It's complicated."
Wanda let out a short breath through her nose. "Yeah, I figured that part," she muttered.
Another silence.
"Does she hurt you?"
That question landed heavier than the first.
"I'm not trying to start something," she added quickly. "I just…I watched her in there. I watched you."
Your throat bobbed. "It's not simple, Wanda," you said again.
"I know," she said. "But I also know what I saw."
In the rearview mirror, you see Natasha's car moving behind you.
"She looks like she's trying," Wanda said after a moment, quieter now. "But trying doesn't always mean safe."
You didn't respond because you didn't know what answer would be right.
"I know you're getting irritated with me too."
You turned your head slightly toward her. Curiosity written on your face, you chuckled genuinely. "Why would you say that?"
Wanda exhaled, tightening her grip on the steering wheel just a little. "About how I act around her," she continued, meaning Natasha without saying her name. "I know it probably feels like I'm watching everything, judging everything she does."
The car passed under a streetlight, and her face briefly lit up—tired, conflicted.
"But at the same time," she added after a pause, "I know you can't blame me."
That made you shift on your seat. Wanda glanced at you for a second, then back to the road.
"I'm not your enemy here," she said. "I am your best friend," she added, more firmly now, like she needed to ground herself in it. "That's exactly why I'm like this. I'm not trying to control you, I'm just trying to make sure you don't get hurt again."
Her voice softened a little after that.
"And I know you might get irritated with me for it."
A beat.
"But I'd rather you be irritated at me than watch you go through that again and stay quiet."
Wanda went quiet for a bit after she spoke, just keeping her eyes on the road. The car felt calmer now, but still heavy in that quiet way neither of you really knew how to fix.
Then slowly, you reached over and held her right hand. Wanda tensed for a second out of instinct, fingers tightening on the wheel, but she didn't pull away. She let you take her hand.
You gave it a small squeeze.
"I'm not irritated one bit, Wanda," you said softly.
She finally glanced at you for a second.
A small, sad smile tugged at your lips. "I am grateful for you."
Wanda didn't say anything for a few seconds after that. She just kept driving, your hand still in hers, like she didn't fully trust her voice yet.
Then she let out a small breath, almost a laugh.
"Grateful for me?" she repeated, shaking her head a little. "That sounds so dramatic."
That made you snort quietly.
"Shut up," you muttered, but there was no bite in it.
Your bestfriend finally smiled too.
"See? You're a little irritated.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not," you said again, more firmly, and this time you actually laughed.
Holding Wanda's hand, you couldn't help thinking about everything she'd done for you over the last years. Not just the big things, but all the little things too. The random groceries that would magically appear in your kitchen when you were too exhausted to shop. The countless times she picked up Aliah from school because you couldn't get yourself out of bed. The nights she stayed over because she knew being alone would make everything worse. The way she somehow always knew when you were pretending to be okay and never let you get away with it.
You honestly didn't know what you would've done without her.
Even during the time you hid the marriage from her and when that same marriage fell apart, Wanda was there. She didn't question anything. When you lost the baby. When everything felt too heavy to carry on your own.
Wanda was there.
She never made you feel guilty for needing her. Never acted like you were too much. Never got tired of showing up, even when you gave her plenty of reasons to. And maybe that was why hearing her worry about you didn't annoy you at all like she was expecting you to.
How could it? She had earned that worry. She had earned the right to be protective after spending so long helping you put yourself back together.
You were never going to stop being grateful for Wanda.
Finally you're now back to your apartment and you were welcomed by Pietro. The moment he saw you, his expression softened. He crossed the distance quickly and pressed a kiss to the side of your forehead before gently taking hold of your arm.
"Easy," he murmured.
Great, now there are three people who're acting like your personal bodyguard.
The apartment behind him was spotless. The dishes were done, the counters were clean, and everything was exactly where it should be. It wasn't surprising. Pietro had probably been stopping by every day while you were in the hospital, making sure things were taken care of before you got home.
Without making a fuss about it, he guided you toward the couch. The second you sat down, Wanda was already moving toward the kitchen.
"Do you want to eat?" she asked immediately.
Natasha finally stepped inside carrying Aliah, who was now fully awake against her shoulder. She blinked sleepily a few times before lifting her head from Natasha's shoulder. Her hair was sticking out in every direction, and she looked thoroughly confused for a few seconds before recognizing where she was. Then she wriggled out of Natasha's arms and bolted upstairs before anyone could stop her.
"Careful," you called automatically. Your daughter didn't even slow down. She was already heading toward the hallway. "Aliah." But still nothing from your little rascal.
Your attention shifted back to Natasha, who was still standing awkwardly near the living room. She looked uncertain about where she was supposed to be, as though she was waiting for someone to tell her what to do. You swallowed before gesturing toward the couch across from yours.
"You can sit."
She crossed the room and sat down on the couch opposite yours. The space between you wasn't very large, but it still felt significant somehow.
Neither of you spoke immediately. The apartment settled into a strange quiet while Wanda moved around the kitchen and Pietro followed her.
Everyone was occupying the same space, but nobody quite knew how they were supposed to fit together.
"We should all eat together."
Nobody was particularly hungry and nobody seemed interested in forcing cheerful conversation after everything that had happened—to you.
The conversation around the table had quieted by the time Aliah finally came running back from her room. At first, you only heard the quick patter of her feet against the floor. Nobody paid much attention. She'd disappeared often enough since getting home, bouncing between excitement and curiosity the way kids always did.
Then she stepped into the dining area. And everything inside you stopped.
In her hands was a baby toy, a little twist rattle.
Your eyes locked onto it immediately—you knew that toy.
You remembered standing in the store holding it months ago, turning it over in your hands while trying to decide whether buying baby things too early was a bad idea. You remembered eventually buying it anyway because you couldn't help yourself. It had been one of the first things you'd bought since knowing you're pregnant.
The sight of it hit you so bad that your chest physically hurts.
Aliah, completely unaware of what she'd just brought into the room, climbed onto her chair and hugged the toy against her chest.
"Mommy? When you're not sick anymore," she said, her voice small and hopeful, "can I sleep with you and the new baby in the room?"
Every sound in the apartment seemed to disappear. Your heart felt like it stopped and so do the people around you.
"Fuck." Pietro slipped out before he could stop it.
"Can I help find the baby?" Aliah looked from face to face before finally adding, completely innocent, completely sincere, "Uncle Pietro said you kinda lost it."
Across from you, Natasha froze.
The moment the words left her mouth, Pietro's face crumpled like he wanted to get swallowed by the floor. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked away for a second. His sister glares at him.
The truth was, nobody had warned him. Nobody had told him not to say anything. He actually never thought that Aliah might start asking questions when he picked her up in her school.
But of course she had. She was a smart girl—observant. She noticed when people were upset. She noticed when routines changed. And the second she'd realized you were in a clinic and nobody was giving her a proper explanation, she'd started demanding answers.
At first, Pietro had tried avoiding it. He'd told her you weren't feeling well. That mama will be home soon and the doctors were helping you. But Aliah was not convinced so her questions had just kept coming. And eventually Pietro had sat down with her because he thought she deserved something close to the truth. He'd explained that there had been a baby. The baby was very, very small and something had happened—that mommy was sad because the baby wasn't here anymore.
He didn't use words like death or miscarriage. Aliah's only three, he doesn't want to overwhelm her with something she couldn't understand. So he'd tried to simplify it. And somewhere in that explanation, he'd said the baby was gone. Then, when Aliah kept asking where gone meant, he'd made the mistake of saying it was a little like losing something.
So naturally, Aliah spent the last 24-hours believing that if everyone looked hard enough, they could find the baby too.
And another mistake he made was to place all the baby stuff you bought in Aliah's room where she might've taken the toy in her hand.
Pietro looked absolutely sick with guilt. His eyes found yours across the table, and for a second he looked like he genuinely didn't know what to do with himself.
"Y/N..." he whispered. "I'm sorry. I—I didn't..." He swallowed hard. "I didn't mean..."
The words kept getting stuck.
But you already knew that he hadn't done anything wrong. He's been trying to help and he's been a great help. Slowly, you shook your head and gave him a small look of reassurance.
"It's fine," you said softly.
Pietro immediately opened his mouth to argue because it clearly wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. But you cut him off before he could.
"I got this."
Across the table, Aliah was still clutching the toy in her lap, waiting patiently for answers. Your chest tightened. Slowly, you pushed your unfinished food away. The appetite you'd forced yourself to find a few minutes ago had completely disappeared. You stood carefully from your chair.
Immediately, the three around you reacted.
Wanda looked up. Pietro started to stand. Natasha shifted in her seat.
You ignored all of them. Instead, you reached for Aliah's hand. "Come here, baby."
Aliah climbed down from her chair without hesitation. Her small hand slipped into yours and the toy remained tucked under her other arm. Together, the two of you disappeared from the dining area and the kitchen felt noticeably emptier the second you were gone. Nobody seemed quite sure what to do next.
Natasha remained frozen in her chair. Her eyes stayed fixed on the doorway you'd disappeared through. Every instinct she had was telling her to follow—to be there, to help. Because this wasn't just your conversation with Aliah, it was hers too. The baby had been hers too and Aliah was her daughter too. But at the same time, a part of her worried that following you would be overstepping. Because maybe this was something you wanted to do alone. Maybe she hadn't earned the right to be part of that conversation. But another part of her couldn't stand the thought of staying behind while you carried that burden by yourself.
You led Aliah into the living room and sat down carefully on the couch. Aliah climbed up beside you immediately, the baby toy still tucked securely under her arm.
You were trying to figure out where to begin.
Because the truth was, Aliah wasn't supposed to know about any of this yet. You hadn't told her about the pregnancy—there had never been a chance. You had spent weeks trying to figure out how and when to tell people. Some days you weren't even sure you wanted to tell anyone at all.
And then everything happened so fast. Now here you were.
"Was there really a baby, mommy?" Now, your daughter started it for you. The question nearly broke you.
You swallowed hard. "Yeah, sweetheart."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
"There was." You nodded.
Aliah looked at your stomach, then back at your face. The gears in her head were turning, trying to make sense of it.
"Was it in your tummy?"
You nodded again.
And suddenly the reality seemed to settle a little more for her. She hugged the toy closer. Then her next question came quietly.
"Where is the baby now?"
You stared at her. At your little girl. At the child who had only learned about her sibling after they were already gone. The unfairness of it nearly knocked the breath out of you.
You reached over and took her small hand in yours. "Sometimes, when a baby is growing, something happens that nobody expects."
Aliah listened quietly.
"The doctors tried to help mommy feel better. Everybody wanted the baby to keep growing." Your voice wavered slightly. "But sometimes babies are very small and their little bodies can't keep growing the way they're supposed to."
"So the baby stopped growing?" Aliah frowned—trying her best to understand.
You felt tears sting your eyes. "Yeah."
She looked down at the toy again. A long silence followed. Then came the question you knew was coming.
"Can the doctors help again?"
Your heart broke all over again. You gently brushed your thumb over her hand.
"No, sweetheart."
"Why?"
Because life wasn't fair. Sometimes terrible things happen for no reason. Because you didn't know either. But none of those were answers for your four-year-old. So instead, you pulled her a little closer.
"Sometimes there are things even doctors can't fix."
Aliah thought about that before her face slowly started to fall.
"So..." she started quietly. "The baby isn't coming to our house?"
You closed your eyes briefly before looking back at her. "No, baby. The baby isn't coming home."
The toy slipped a little in her lap as she hugged it tighter. Her lower lip trembled. You could practically see the disappointment settling over her. Not the same grief the adults were carrying. A child's version of it—it was simple, innocent and honest.
After a moment, she leaned against your side. You wrapped an arm around her immediately.
"The baby knew we loved them though, right?" she asked suddenly.
The question caught you off guard. A tear slipped down your cheek but smiled through it.
"Yeah." Your voice cracked. "Very, very much."
That seemed to satisfy her. She nodded quietly before curling closer against you.
You looked up and found Natasha standing in the doorway of the living room. She must have followed after all.
For a moment, she simply stood there, taking in the sight of you and Aliah curled together on the couch. Her eyes lingered on your face, on the exhaustion you were no longer doing a very good job of hiding. Then her attention shifted to Aliah. Your daughter looked exhausted. The earlier questions were gone. The curiosity was gone. The toy she'd been holding was now resting loosely against her lap as she leaned heavily against your side. Without saying anything, she walked over. When she reached the couch, she crouched down slightly in front of Aliah and brushed a hand through her hair.
"Hey, malysh."
Aliah looked up. The second she saw Natasha, she immediately leaned toward her. Natasha's expression softened. She slid her arms underneath her daughter and lifted her effortlessly into her arms. Once Aliah was settled comfortably against her shoulder, Natasha adjusted her hold and pressed a kiss against the side of her head.
"Let mommy rest, alright?" she said quietly. Her hand rubbed slow circles against Aliah's back. "She's tired."
The words were directed at Aliah, but Natasha's eyes briefly found yours. There was something gentle about it. Something that felt less like an instruction and more like permission.
Like she was telling you that for a little while, she could handle this. That you didn't have to carry everything alone.
Aliah nodded weakly against her shoulder. For a second, it looked like she was about to settle there completely before she suddenly lifted her head.
Natasha blinked in surprise as Aliah immediately stretched one arm toward you.
"Mommy." You looked up. "Come on."
Before you could react, your daughter wriggled enough for Natasha to carefully lower her back to the floor. The second her feet touched the ground, she walked over to you and reached for both of your hands.
"Let's get you to bed, mommy."
Your chest tightened instantly. The seriousness in her voice nearly broke you.
"So you can rest." Your baby looked genuinely concerned.
A shaky laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
God. You loved this child. You loved her so much it hurt.
"Yeah?" you asked softly.
Aliah nodded immediately. "Yeah."
Then she gave your hands a tiny tug. An attempt to pull you to your feet. One that would have been adorable if it wasn't so heartbreakingly sincere.
Behind her, Natasha watched the entire exchange. And for the first time that day, a small smile appeared on her face. Not because anything was fixed or because the grief was gone. But because even after one of the hardest days your family had ever faced, Aliah's first instinct was still love.
To comfort.
To protect.
To take care of the people she loved.
And somehow, standing there between you and Natasha, holding onto both your hands as if she could keep everything together by herself.
"I'll check upstairs first, okay?" You kissed her before carefully releasing her hands and pushed yourself to your feet.
Wanda and Pietro are still in the kitchen, finishing everything that needs to be done so you don't have to do and worry about them yourself.
Natasha remained where she was, holding Aliah against her shoulder.
Your daughter was practically limp with exhaustion now. One small arm hung around Natasha's neck while the other loosely held onto the baby toy she'd found. Every now and then her eyes would close completely before forcing themselves open again. Natasha continued rubbing slow circles against her back. Then she felt Aliah shift slightly against her shoulder.
"Mama?" The word came out soft—half-asleep.
Natasha immediately looked down. "Yeah, malysh?"
"Can we have another baby, mama?"
Everything inside Natasha stopped. The hand moving against Aliah's back froze and her breathing caught. She lowered her eyes. Her gaze immediately landed on the toy still tucked against her daughter's chest. The toy that should have belonged to someone else.
A sharp pain settled in her chest.
Aliah waited patiently. The way children always did when they asked something they believed had a simple answer.
Natasha swallowed. Her throat suddenly felt too tight. "I don't know, detka." She pressed a gentle kiss against the top of her daughter's head. "Mommy needs to get better first, detka."
"Oh." Her cheek settled deeper against Natasha's shoulder. "Because she's still sick?"
Natasha's chest tightened. "Yes."
That was the simplest answer. The one a four-year-old could understand.
Aliah nodded sleepily. Then, after a few seconds, she asked, "So after she gets better?"
Natasha smiled sadly. Children always wanted definite answers. The world was either yes or no. Tomorrow or today. Nothing in between.
But you and Natasha weren't like that—especially not now.
"Maybe," Natasha said softly.
"But do you want a baby too, mama?"
Natasha froze. The question wasn't loud, but it hit harder than anything else that moment because it wasn't about explanation or permission anymore. It was about wanting. About imagining a future that didn't exist yet but there's a possibility
Aliah's eyes were half closed, heavy with sleep, but still focused on Natasha's face with that quiet seriousness children had when they were trying to understand things that were too big for them.
"I want a sibling," she added slowly, her words slurring a little as exhaustion pulled at her again. "I want a baby sister…or a brother."
Natasha opened her mouth immediately, instinctively, because the answer should have been simple—yes. Of course yes. She had imagined it before without even meaning to, in small moments she never admitted to anyone. A second child in the house. A chance to experience things differently this time, to do it right.
To do all of it with you.
She swallowed hard, her throat tight, her eyes dropping briefly to Aliah's sleeping face again as she gently adjusted her in her arms. When she spoke, her voice came out quieter, steadier, but threaded with something she was trying very hard to keep from spilling over.
"I know, detka," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I know you want that." There was a pause as she carefully chose her words, because she refused to give her daughter something that might break later. "I want you to be happy," she continued gently, her hand moving in slow circles across Aliah's back, "and I want you to have a sibling one day."
Aliah made a small sound, barely awake, like she was accepting the answer without fully processing it anymore.
Natasha held her a little closer.
"But not everything is simple right now," she added softly, the honesty slipping out more than she intended, though still softened for a child who wouldn't fully understand it yet.
And that was the truth she couldn't avoid—she wanted it. She wanted it more than she was ready to admit out loud.
But wanting wasn't enough. Not when you were still grieving. Not when you might probably still be healing from everything she did. Not when she wasn't even sure where she stood in your life anymore, let alone whether there was room for a future that included something as big as another child.
So Natasha stayed quiet after that, simply holding her daughter against her chest. Her gaze drifted once more toward the staircase where you had gone earlier and for a moment she just stood there between two impossible things—a child dreaming of a future and an adult who didn't yet know if she was allowed to be part of yours.
When you finally came back down the stairs, the apartment felt quieter than before. The kind of quiet that wasn't empty, just softened by exhaustion and everything that had already been said. Natasha was still where you left her, now sitting on the couch with Aliah completely asleep in her arms. The toy had slipped to her side, barely held in place by her fingers now.
You finally spoke quietly, your voice low so you wouldn't disturb Aliah. "You can take her upstairs now, the one with an open door is my room."
Natasha looked up immediately at your voice, "Okay."
You watched her go for a moment, your gaze lingering on your daughter's sleeping face, before turning away toward the kitchen.
Pietro was by the counter when you walked over, still looking like he hadn't fully recovered from earlier. The shame was still there, quiet but obvious, like he was replaying every word he had said to Aliah and trying to figure out how he could have said it better. He looked up immediately, and the guilt in his face only deepened.
"Y/N, I—about earlier, I didn't mean for her to understand it like that. I thought I was being careful, I swear I did, I just—"
You cut him off before he could spiral further.
"I know," you said softly. You reached out and placed a hand on his arm to ground him. "It's okay, really. You were trying to help."
Pietro looked at you for a long moment, like he wanted to believe you but didn't quite know how to let himself off the hook. Finally, he gave a small, reluctant nod. Not fully convinced, but accepting your reassurance anyway because it was you giving it.
"Also, thank you for what you did upstairs, Piet. Everything here in the house." You gave him a small, tired smile before moving past him.
Wanda was near the kitchen doorway now, arms crossed, watching both of you quietly. She had that look again. The one that meant she had already made up her mind about something and was just waiting for the right moment to say it out loud.
It came the second you faced her.
"I can't trust her to be here," Wanda said flatly, nodding slightly toward the upstairs without even needing to say Natasha's name.
You exhaled through your nose and gave her a look. "You know she has a name, right?"
Wanda rolled her eyes playfully but there is a seriousness in it. "I feel like it's a curse."
You let out a soft and tired laugh at her reaction.
"I heard her conversation with Aliah."
That alone made something in your chest tighten, but you were too tired to fully chase it. Too drained to dig deeper into whatever Wanda was implying.
"Aliah wants a sibling."
Your daughter wants a sibling? It shouldn't have surprised you.
Because earlier—back in the living room, in that conversation you'd barely survived emotionally—you had already seen it. The way she held onto that toy. The way she asked where the baby was like it was just somewhere out of reach. That in the simplest possible way, something lost could still be found if someone tried hard enough.
"Your daughter wants a sibling now. And God, Y/N…" she trailed off, shaking her head like she was trying to hold back too many thoughts at once. "You can't yet," she said more quietly, but firmly. "You're fresh out of surgery."
You let out a breath and leaned back slightly against the counter, tiredness catching up to you all over again. A small, helpless laugh slipped out before you could stop it.
You let out a quiet sigh and rubbed at your forehead. "I'm serious," you said again. "I..."
Your hand lifted instinctively, like you were about to make a point, but the thought never fully formed. Too many things crowded your mind at once and suddenly you couldn't find the energy to sort through any of them.
You lowered your hand again with a tired breath. "I just..." You shook your head. "Wands, I don't even know what tomorrow looks like right now."
Wanda studied you for a moment longer, trying to decide whether to believe you or just wait for reality to prove her right later. Finally, she sighed, but her posture didn't fully relax.
"Just…don't have sex with her," she said, less sharp now but still firm. "Is all I'm saying."
"Oh God, Wanda," You let out a small, tired laugh under your breath, more out of disbelief than humor. Rolling your eyes at your bestfriend.
After a few more minutes, the Maximoff sibs finally left. Pietro gave you a careful hug and another apology that you quickly brushed aside, reassuring him with a tired smile that everything was okay. Wanda, on the other hand, looked like she still wanted to argue. She hugged you tightly, reminded you to rest at least three times, and made you promise to text her tomorrow. Before leaving, she shot one last suspicious glance upstairs, clearly directed at Natasha, before disappearing out the door with her brother.
Once they were gone, the apartment became noticeably quieter. You took a slow walk through the kitchen and living room, more out of habit than necessity. Pietro had already taken care of most things while you were away. The counters were clean, dishes put away, and everything looked exactly as it should.
Then reality settled in. Wanda and Pietro were gone. Aliah was asleep upstairs. The distractions had disappeared. Which left only one person left in the apartment besides you—Natasha. You let out a slow breath and rubbed a hand over your face. Somehow, after everything that had happened today, facing her felt like the hardest part.
Before you come upstairs, the redhead is already coming down. She spotted you immediately, standing alone in the living room and slowed slightly as she approached. The house felt strangely quiet now that—just the two of you.
"Hey," she said softly.
You looked up and gave a small nod. "Hey."
For a moment, neither of you said anything. Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other before finally gathering the courage to ask, "Do you want to talk?" The question was careful, almost tentative. Like she was afraid of pushing too hard after everything that had happened.
"Sorry, Natasha," you said quietly. "I can't right now, I'm tired."
The answer wasn't a rejection, but Natasha's face still fell slightly before she quickly masked it.
"Yeah. Of course, I am sorry." She nodded immediately, stepping closer without thinking. "Do you want me to help you upstairs?" she asked. "Are you comfortable? Do you need—"
"I'm fine." You shook your head gently before she could continue.
A silence settled between you again. This one wasn't awkward so much as heavy. You found yourself staring at a spot on the floor before speaking again.
"I'm sorry."
Natasha looked at you again.
"I'm sorry I can't answer your question yet. You know, the other night..."
The words landed exactly as heavily as you expected them to. Natasha didn't look away.
"I know what you asked me. I know what you're asking for." Your voice softened. "And I know you need an answer." A tired smile appeared for only a second before fading again. "I just don't have one right now."
You looked at her for a long moment before speaking again.
"But if you want to stay..." your voice trailed off briefly. "You can."
A faint smile touched your lips. You looked away for a second before gesturing vaguely toward the living room.
"I mean, we don't have a guest room. But the couch is big enough for you, I guess. Well, I hope it's fine with you."
A small laugh escaped you afterward, quiet and weary, but genuine. It was the first time all day something had felt remotely normal.
The sound made Natasha smile. A real one this time. Small, soft, and almost disbelieving. She lowered her gaze for a moment before looking back at you.
"Of course," she said softly. "Anything, for you."
For a moment, neither of you said anything after that. The conversation was supposed to be about something simple. About her staying. About the couch. About not making her drive home when she was already here. On the surface, that was all you were talking about.
But maybe only you knew it meant more than that.
Or maybe, judging by the way Natasha answered and looked at you, she knew too.
Can you do a mama!nat x child!reader (preferably nine years old maybe?) where reader has selective mutism and Nat has been trying her best to help reader and try to get them to talk and nothing seems to work until one random night after reader and Nat spent the day at a carnival etc, as Nat is putting reader to bed, suddenly they speak softly to Nat and it’s all fluff ?
(No pressure ofc! I love ur stories!! Also sorry if this is confusing.)
No Words Needed
Mom!Natasha Romanoff & Child!Reader
[A/N] Happy Monday everyone! Hope you all have a good week 🥰 Thanks for the request my lovely, hope you enjoy this one 😘
Natasha holds the cookie up, feeling guilty as your bottom lip trembles. “All you have to say is ‘cookie please Mama’. Or even just ‘cookie please’. Hell, even just ‘cookie’. Please baby? For Mama?”
Your eyes water as you stare helplessly at her, opening and close your mouth. Natasha feels even worse and she sighs, handing you the cookie, “It’s okay baby, you tried. Have your cookie, it’s okay. I’m not mad, I know you did your best.”
Natasha watches as you walk dejectedly to the couch with your cookie, feeling even worse at the way your shoulders have slumped. When she’d adopted you four years ago you’d been a little chatterbox – you wanted to tell her absolutely everything, no matter how mundane. At times it had been difficult, especially if Natasha was working on something at home or if she just wanted five minutes peace, but now she’d give anything to just hear your voice again.
Seven months ago you’d stopped talking. Natasha had done everything to try and get to the bottom of why but the only explanation the Doctors could come up with was that you were anxious, though no one was sure what had brought it on. You’d simply woken up one morning and hadn’t said a word since. Every day Natasha wracks her brains, trying to remember if anything had happened the night before, a sign that you were suddenly going to stop talking. There’s nothing though, nothing that's obvious to Natasha.
She’d started sending you to speech therapy but that hadn’t yielded any results so far. Every day she tried to encourage you to say something, anything, but quickly caves when she sees the worried look on your face. Natasha wasn’t about to withhold things from you just because you couldn’t talk. It was obvious just from the look on your face that you were trying. Forcing you would surely only make you more anxious.
Natasha is particularly worried about tomorrow though – it’s your birthday. And despite her asking, you haven’t been able to communicate what you’d like to do. You won’t even write things down for her which can make trying to figure out what you want or need very difficult. Natasha sighs as she heads into the living room, sitting down next to you and pulling you into her lap as you finish your cookie.
“I love you so much,” Natasha mumbles, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay if you can’t talk. You’ll start talking again when you’re ready. No rush.” You lean your head on your shoulder and Natasha smiles, running her hand up and down your back. “You’re my baby and I love you so much. You’re going to have a great birthday tomorrow. I have an idea that I think will work. Just you wait.”
The next morning you climb out of bed and cross the hall to climb into Natasha’s bed. Despite your lack of speech Natasha can see that you’re practically vibrating with excitement. She smiles lazily, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your forehead, “Happy Birthday kiddo. Nine years old, practically a grown up.”
She tickles your sides and you squeal with laughter, trying to squirm out of her grasp. Natasha grins too before sitting up, “So I thought you could have a special breakfast today. And since you can’t tell me what you want… I have an idea.”
Natasha dips her hand into her bedside drawer, pulling out two pieces of paper. “Remember that TikTok trend I showed you? Well I thought we could do it today as a fun little treat. On each piece of paper I’ve written down something you’d like for breakfast and you’ll blindly pick one. And we could do that all day. Does that sound fun?”
You nod enthusiastically, remembering the TikTok trend that Natasha had shown you a while ago. Natasha holds up the two cards and you look between them both for a long moment before reaching out and plucking one out of her hand. The card says ‘chocolate chip pancakes’ and you squeal with excitement. Natasha grins at your enthusiasm, glad that she’d thought of this. It had taken a while to think of things to put on the cards and sometimes she’d doubted you’d even like this idea but now she can see that she’s struck gold.
Once you’re both dressed Natasha makes you the chocolate chip pancakes, adding two candles to the top of them and singing to you as she brings them to the table. You blow them out, making a wish in your head, and then Natasha lets you add as much syrup as you want – it’s your birthday after all.
After breakfast you spend some time opening your presents. Natasha is always surprised by the mountain of presents that you receive – all the Avengers love spoiling you as much as she does. You spend a long time admiring each and every gift you receive, clearly thrilled with all of them. Once everything’s open it’s time to pick another card so Natasha holds them up again, laughing as you spend a long time debating the two. Eventually you pluck one from her hand that reads ‘Carnival.’ You squeal with excitement all over again and begin jumping around the room.
Natasha manages to rein in your joy just enough to get you into the car. The other option had been ‘Movie Theatre’ which would’ve made for a quieter day but Natasha is glad you picked the carnival card. She’d already done some research on a carnival that was in town for the day so she knows where to go. “We’re going to have such a great day,” Natasha says, reaching over to ruffle your hair.
At the carnival Natasha produces more cards throughout the day. Your snack ends up being cotton candy, Natasha tries hard to win you a stuffed giraffe and eventually manages it, you ride all of the rides including the water ones because it’s a warm day. For lunch you pull a card that says ‘burger’, so Natasha gets you a burger with fries from one of the food stalls, along with a banana milkshake. Natasha’s thought of quite a few card ideas to keep you going throughout the day, taking the pressure off you – not only do you not have to decide anything, you also don’t have to say anything.
Natasha can’t remember the last time she saw you so excited, so happy. It makes her heart warm every time she looks over at your beaming face. Natasha had never taken you to a fairground or theme park before and she’s impressed that you’re so eager to ride everything. As the sun begins to set you start to yawn, rubbing your eyes and Natasha lifts you into her arms to carry you back to the car, your giraffe stuffie held tight in your arms as you lean your head on her shoulder.
You fall asleep in the car, clearly exhausted from the fun day at the carnival. Natasha smiles as she glances over at you, the radio playing low in the background. Although you haven’t spoken a word, Natasha can tell that you’ve had a good day.
You stir a little as Natasha carries you into the apartment, your eyes lighting up when you see the pile of presents you’d opened this morning as if you’d half-expected them to disappear. Natasha kisses your cheek, helping you into your pyjamas and then sitting down on your bed, smoothing out your bed sheets. “Shall we have a story?” Natasha asks. “I didn’t do any cards for your bedtime stories but you can always pick one out-”
“Mama?”
Natasha’s gaze immediately snaps to you when she hears your tiny voice. She can hardly believe that she’s finally heard you speak after praying to hear your voice for so long. Her hand finds yours and she gives it a gentle squeeze as she tries to keep her voice even, “Yeah baby?”
“I- I had a really great birthday,” You say quietly. “Thank you for taking me to the carnival.”
Natasha smiles, not wanting to push her luck but wanting to keep you talking, wanting to hear as much of your voice as possible. “Yeah? What was your favourite part?”
You pause and Natasha’s heart sinks, worried that you’re done now but eventually you manage to say, “I liked the log flume.”
“Yeah? I liked it too, there was such a big splash and we got soaked.” Natasha smiles fondly. “And I liked seeing you so happy. I had a really nice day too.”
“I liked picking the cards,” You say. “And I like my new giraffe.”
“What are you gonna call him?”
You think again for a moment, “This one should be called Tony.”
Natasha grins and rolls her eyes affectionately. You always name your stuffed animals after people you know. There are a couple named after kids in your class then you have a Clint, Yelena and a Steve. Natasha leans over to kiss your forehead, “I love you so much.”
“Love you too Mama.”
Natasha doesn’t say anything about the fact that you’re speaking, not wanting to break the spell, not wanting to make you feel self-conscious. But hearing those three words after so many months brings tears to her eyes and she leans forward to wrap her arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Happy Birthday baby. I’m really, really glad you had a good day.”
You wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her cheek. “You’re the best Mama ever.”
That tips Natasha over the edge and a stray tear trickles down her cheek, which she quickly wipes away before you can see. She doesn’t know if anything has actually changed, whether you’ll speak to her again in the morning so she tries her best to cling to this moment. Being a Mom was the scariest thing Natasha has ever done and she doubts every decision that she makes, so having verbal confirmation from you that she’s doing okay always warms her heart. Natasha kisses the top of your head, opening her mouth to whisper something before realising she doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say. Today has been perfect – and Natasha couldn’t be happier.
Summary: Back home you are surrounded by the people who never left your side, while Natasha struggles to find her place in yours.
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader
Tags/Warnings: 18+ heavy emotional themes, pregnancy loss/miscarriage, grief, post-surgery recovery, we love the Maximoff's, Aliah just being...her :( Natasha "Anything for you" Romanoff
Author's Note: I already posted a new fic: The Assessment ft. Wanda on my Patreon account^^
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The discharge process took forever. You sat carefully in a chair, one hand resting absentmindedly over your abdomen while waiting for the doctor to call your name. The soreness was still there, dull and heavy, but manageable enough that you stopped visibly reacting every few minutes.
Natasha sat beside you with Aliah asleep against her chest, one arm wrapped securely around your daughter while the other rested on her own knee. Every now and then her eyes drifted toward you automatically, checking if you were uncomfortable.
Across the waiting room, a mother—probably around your age—walked past carrying a newborn bundled carefully against her chest.
Your eyes followed them without meaning to.
Then another mother passed by pushing a stroller, talking quietly to someone beside her while her baby reached tiny hands toward the hanging toys overhead.
Your chest tightened painfully. You looked away quickly, but it didn't help.
Everywhere you looked there were babies.
Tiny socks. Baby carriers. Soft crying. Mothers bouncing infants gently in their arms while waiting for appointments.
Natasha noticed the shift in your expression immediately. "Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"
You nodded too quickly. "Yeah."
The lie sounded weak even to your own ears.
Your throat tightened as you stared down at your hands instead, blinking hard while memories pushed themselves forward anyway.
What it could've looked like.
What it would've felt like.
The weight of your baby in your arms. Aliah meeting her sibling. Natasha finding out in a way that wasn't grief and blood or hospital monitors.
Beside you, Natasha went very still. She knew—of course she knew. She shifted Aliah carefully against her chest before leaning slightly closer to you.
"Do you want to wait outside?" she asked quietly.
"No, I'm fine." But your voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
Another woman walked by carrying twins this time, one baby asleep against her shoulder while the other fussed softly in her partner's arms.
You looked down immediately.
Natasha swallowed hard beside you.
Then very carefully, slowly enough that you had time to pull away if you wanted to, she reached for your hand resting on the chair between you. Her fingers curled around yours gently.
And you let her hold it. Your eyes burned suddenly and you pressed your lips together hard, trying to hold yourself together in a waiting room full of strangers.
Her thumb moved slowly against your knuckles. "Hey," she whispered softly.
You shook your head once, staring at the floor. Natasha's grip tightened around your hand. When you finally looked at her, her eyes were already glassy. And somehow that made it worse. Because there was grief all over her face now too.
Wanda finally came back, already talking to the nurse, her eyes immediately landed on your tangled hands. And before your bestfriend could even say anything, you pulled your hand away from Natasha. But surprisingly, Wanda didn't say anything. Instead, she immediately shifted focus to you.
"Come on," she said softly, already moving closer to support you.
The second you stood up completely, both women moved at the same time.
"Careful."
"Slow down."
You blinked tiredly between them. "I'm literally just standing."
Neither of them looked convinced.
Wanda immediately slid an arm around your waist while Natasha adjusted Aliah higher against her chest so she could walk closer beside you. The walk toward the elevator felt longer than it should have, mostly because everyone stayed painfully alert around you. Every time your expression tightened even slightly from the discomfort, Wanda looked ready to drag you back upstairs while Natasha visibly tensed beside you.
Outside, the morning sun felt warm against your skin.
The walk through the parking lot was slow. Wanda kept most of your weight leaning against her despite your repeated attempts to insist you could walk on your own.
Meanwhile, the tension between your bestfriend and Natasha, though, was impossible to ignore. Wanda barely acknowledged Natasha unless necessary, while Natasha stayed hyperaware of the distance she should put whenever your bestfriend is around.
When you finally reached Wanda's car, she immediately opened the passenger door for you.
"I've got her," Wanda said flatly as she now walked towards Natasha to get Aliah.
Natasha's arms tightened around her daughter instinctively before relaxing again. Her jaw flexed slightly, but she didn't argue. Instead, she looked at you.
You were too exhausted for the tension pressing from both sides.
"She can come," you said quietly before things could escalate.
Wanda looked at you immediately.
You sighed softly and leaned heavier against the car for a second. "She can come," you clarified carefully. "I just…" Your throat tightened slightly. "I don't want Aliah upset right now."
Wanda exhaled slowly through her nose, clearly irritated, but stopped herself from arguing. "Fine."
You looked at Natasha, "Aliah can ride with you only if you have a car seat for her."
"Yeah, I always have it in my car." Then Natasha stayed quiet, but the relief on her face was immediate enough to hurt. She looked down quickly afterward, trying to compose herself.
Carefully, she walked over to her car parked nearby and opened the backseat. Aliah stirred sleepily the second Natasha started buckling her in.
"No…" your daughter mumbled weakly, grabbing onto Natasha's sleeve.
Natasha's expression softened instantly. "I know, malyshka," she whispered gently. "I'm right here."
She waited until Aliah relaxed again before pulling a blanket around her. Then her hand lingered briefly against the car door after she closed it. Her eyes lifted toward you through Wanda's open passenger window.
Wanda climbed into the driver's seat without another word while you slowly settled yourself into the passenger seat carefully, trying not to aggravate the pain in your abdomen. The second the engine started, Natasha stepped back toward her own car.
The drive was painfully quiet.
You rested your head against the window while Wanda drove carefully through the traffic. Every bump on the road still hurt a little and exhaustion sat so heavily in your body you could barely keep your eyes open.
Wanda glanced at you once in the sidemirror before looking away.
"So…" she started carefully, keeping her tone light with you. "You and…her."
You immediately looked at your bestfriend. She literally hates Natasha that she can't even say her name.
"There's something going on there?" she added after a beat.
You sighed quietly and rubbed your forehead. "It's not like that."
Wanda hummed a little like she didn't fully believe you.
"I'm not judging," she said, finally glancing at you for a second. "I just need to understand what I'm walking into."
"It's complicated."
Wanda let out a short breath through her nose. "Yeah, I figured that part," she muttered.
Another silence.
"Does she hurt you?"
That question landed heavier than the first.
"I'm not trying to start something," she added quickly. "I just…I watched her in there. I watched you."
Your throat bobbed. "It's not simple, Wanda," you said again.
"I know," she said. "But I also know what I saw."
In the rearview mirror, you see Natasha's car moving behind you.
"She looks like she's trying," Wanda said after a moment, quieter now. "But trying doesn't always mean safe."
You didn't respond because you didn't know what answer would be right.
"I know you're getting irritated with me too."
You turned your head slightly toward her. Curiosity written on your face, you chuckled genuinely. "Why would you say that?"
Wanda exhaled, tightening her grip on the steering wheel just a little. "About how I act around her," she continued, meaning Natasha without saying her name. "I know it probably feels like I'm watching everything, judging everything she does."
The car passed under a streetlight, and her face briefly lit up—tired, conflicted.
"But at the same time," she added after a pause, "I know you can't blame me."
That made you shift on your seat. Wanda glanced at you for a second, then back to the road.
"I'm not your enemy here," she said. "I am your best friend," she added, more firmly now, like she needed to ground herself in it. "That's exactly why I'm like this. I'm not trying to control you, I'm just trying to make sure you don't get hurt again."
Her voice softened a little after that.
"And I know you might get irritated with me for it."
A beat.
"But I'd rather you be irritated at me than watch you go through that again and stay quiet."
Wanda went quiet for a bit after she spoke, just keeping her eyes on the road. The car felt calmer now, but still heavy in that quiet way neither of you really knew how to fix.
Then slowly, you reached over and held her right hand. Wanda tensed for a second out of instinct, fingers tightening on the wheel, but she didn't pull away. She let you take her hand.
You gave it a small squeeze.
"I'm not irritated one bit, Wanda," you said softly.
She finally glanced at you for a second.
A small, sad smile tugged at your lips. "I am grateful for you."
Wanda didn't say anything for a few seconds after that. She just kept driving, your hand still in hers, like she didn't fully trust her voice yet.
Then she let out a small breath, almost a laugh.
"Grateful for me?" she repeated, shaking her head a little. "That sounds so dramatic."
That made you snort quietly.
"Shut up," you muttered, but there was no bite in it.
Your bestfriend finally smiled too.
"See? You're a little irritated.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not," you said again, more firmly, and this time you actually laughed.
Holding Wanda's hand, you couldn't help thinking about everything she'd done for you over the last years. Not just the big things, but all the little things too. The random groceries that would magically appear in your kitchen when you were too exhausted to shop. The countless times she picked up Aliah from school because you couldn't get yourself out of bed. The nights she stayed over because she knew being alone would make everything worse. The way she somehow always knew when you were pretending to be okay and never let you get away with it.
You honestly didn't know what you would've done without her.
Even during the time you hid the marriage from her and when that same marriage fell apart, Wanda was there. She didn't question anything. When you lost the baby. When everything felt too heavy to carry on your own.
Wanda was there.
She never made you feel guilty for needing her. Never acted like you were too much. Never got tired of showing up, even when you gave her plenty of reasons to. And maybe that was why hearing her worry about you didn't annoy you at all like she was expecting you to.
How could it? She had earned that worry. She had earned the right to be protective after spending so long helping you put yourself back together.
You were never going to stop being grateful for Wanda.
Finally you're now back to your apartment and you were welcomed by Pietro. The moment he saw you, his expression softened. He crossed the distance quickly and pressed a kiss to the side of your forehead before gently taking hold of your arm.
"Easy," he murmured.
Great, now there are three people who're acting like your personal bodyguard.
The apartment behind him was spotless. The dishes were done, the counters were clean, and everything was exactly where it should be. It wasn't surprising. Pietro had probably been stopping by every day while you were in the hospital, making sure things were taken care of before you got home.
Without making a fuss about it, he guided you toward the couch. The second you sat down, Wanda was already moving toward the kitchen.
"Do you want to eat?" she asked immediately.
Natasha finally stepped inside carrying Aliah, who was now fully awake against her shoulder. She blinked sleepily a few times before lifting her head from Natasha's shoulder. Her hair was sticking out in every direction, and she looked thoroughly confused for a few seconds before recognizing where she was. Then she wriggled out of Natasha's arms and bolted upstairs before anyone could stop her.
"Careful," you called automatically. Your daughter didn't even slow down. She was already heading toward the hallway. "Aliah." But still nothing from your little rascal.
Your attention shifted back to Natasha, who was still standing awkwardly near the living room. She looked uncertain about where she was supposed to be, as though she was waiting for someone to tell her what to do. You swallowed before gesturing toward the couch across from yours.
"You can sit."
She crossed the room and sat down on the couch opposite yours. The space between you wasn't very large, but it still felt significant somehow.
Neither of you spoke immediately. The apartment settled into a strange quiet while Wanda moved around the kitchen and Pietro followed her.
Everyone was occupying the same space, but nobody quite knew how they were supposed to fit together.
"We should all eat together."
Nobody was particularly hungry and nobody seemed interested in forcing cheerful conversation after everything that had happened—to you.
The conversation around the table had quieted by the time Aliah finally came running back from her room. At first, you only heard the quick patter of her feet against the floor. Nobody paid much attention. She'd disappeared often enough since getting home, bouncing between excitement and curiosity the way kids always did.
Then she stepped into the dining area. And everything inside you stopped.
In her hands was a baby toy, a little twist rattle.
Your eyes locked onto it immediately—you knew that toy.
You remembered standing in the store holding it months ago, turning it over in your hands while trying to decide whether buying baby things too early was a bad idea. You remembered eventually buying it anyway because you couldn't help yourself. It had been one of the first things you'd bought since knowing you're pregnant.
The sight of it hit you so bad that your chest physically hurts.
Aliah, completely unaware of what she'd just brought into the room, climbed onto her chair and hugged the toy against her chest.
"Mommy? When you're not sick anymore," she said, her voice small and hopeful, "can I sleep with you and the new baby in the room?"
Every sound in the apartment seemed to disappear. Your heart felt like it stopped and so do the people around you.
"Fuck." Pietro slipped out before he could stop it.
"Can I help find the baby?" Aliah looked from face to face before finally adding, completely innocent, completely sincere, "Uncle Pietro said you kinda lost it."
Across from you, Natasha froze.
The moment the words left her mouth, Pietro's face crumpled like he wanted to get swallowed by the floor. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked away for a second. His sister glares at him.
The truth was, nobody had warned him. Nobody had told him not to say anything. He actually never thought that Aliah might start asking questions when he picked her up in her school.
But of course she had. She was a smart girl—observant. She noticed when people were upset. She noticed when routines changed. And the second she'd realized you were in a clinic and nobody was giving her a proper explanation, she'd started demanding answers.
At first, Pietro had tried avoiding it. He'd told her you weren't feeling well. That mama will be home soon and the doctors were helping you. But Aliah was not convinced so her questions had just kept coming. And eventually Pietro had sat down with her because he thought she deserved something close to the truth. He'd explained that there had been a baby. The baby was very, very small and something had happened—that mommy was sad because the baby wasn't here anymore.
He didn't use words like death or miscarriage. Aliah's only three, he doesn't want to overwhelm her with something she couldn't understand. So he'd tried to simplify it. And somewhere in that explanation, he'd said the baby was gone. Then, when Aliah kept asking where gone meant, he'd made the mistake of saying it was a little like losing something.
So naturally, Aliah spent the last 24-hours believing that if everyone looked hard enough, they could find the baby too.
And another mistake he made was to place all the baby stuff you bought in Aliah's room where she might've taken the toy in her hand.
Pietro looked absolutely sick with guilt. His eyes found yours across the table, and for a second he looked like he genuinely didn't know what to do with himself.
"Y/N..." he whispered. "I'm sorry. I—I didn't..." He swallowed hard. "I didn't mean..."
The words kept getting stuck.
But you already knew that he hadn't done anything wrong. He's been trying to help and he's been a great help. Slowly, you shook your head and gave him a small look of reassurance.
"It's fine," you said softly.
Pietro immediately opened his mouth to argue because it clearly wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. But you cut him off before he could.
"I got this."
Across the table, Aliah was still clutching the toy in her lap, waiting patiently for answers. Your chest tightened. Slowly, you pushed your unfinished food away. The appetite you'd forced yourself to find a few minutes ago had completely disappeared. You stood carefully from your chair.
Immediately, the three around you reacted.
Wanda looked up. Pietro started to stand. Natasha shifted in her seat.
You ignored all of them. Instead, you reached for Aliah's hand. "Come here, baby."
Aliah climbed down from her chair without hesitation. Her small hand slipped into yours and the toy remained tucked under her other arm. Together, the two of you disappeared from the dining area and the kitchen felt noticeably emptier the second you were gone. Nobody seemed quite sure what to do next.
Natasha remained frozen in her chair. Her eyes stayed fixed on the doorway you'd disappeared through. Every instinct she had was telling her to follow—to be there, to help. Because this wasn't just your conversation with Aliah, it was hers too. The baby had been hers too and Aliah was her daughter too. But at the same time, a part of her worried that following you would be overstepping. Because maybe this was something you wanted to do alone. Maybe she hadn't earned the right to be part of that conversation. But another part of her couldn't stand the thought of staying behind while you carried that burden by yourself.
You led Aliah into the living room and sat down carefully on the couch. Aliah climbed up beside you immediately, the baby toy still tucked securely under her arm.
You were trying to figure out where to begin.
Because the truth was, Aliah wasn't supposed to know about any of this yet. You hadn't told her about the pregnancy—there had never been a chance. You had spent weeks trying to figure out how and when to tell people. Some days you weren't even sure you wanted to tell anyone at all.
And then everything happened so fast. Now here you were.
"Was there really a baby, mommy?" Now, your daughter started it for you. The question nearly broke you.
You swallowed hard. "Yeah, sweetheart."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
"There was." You nodded.
Aliah looked at your stomach, then back at your face. The gears in her head were turning, trying to make sense of it.
"Was it in your tummy?"
You nodded again.
And suddenly the reality seemed to settle a little more for her. She hugged the toy closer. Then her next question came quietly.
"Where is the baby now?"
You stared at her. At your little girl. At the child who had only learned about her sibling after they were already gone. The unfairness of it nearly knocked the breath out of you.
You reached over and took her small hand in yours. "Sometimes, when a baby is growing, something happens that nobody expects."
Aliah listened quietly.
"The doctors tried to help mommy feel better. Everybody wanted the baby to keep growing." Your voice wavered slightly. "But sometimes babies are very small and their little bodies can't keep growing the way they're supposed to."
"So the baby stopped growing?" Aliah frowned—trying her best to understand.
You felt tears sting your eyes. "Yeah."
She looked down at the toy again. A long silence followed. Then came the question you knew was coming.
"Can the doctors help again?"
Your heart broke all over again. You gently brushed your thumb over her hand.
"No, sweetheart."
"Why?"
Because life wasn't fair. Sometimes terrible things happen for no reason. Because you didn't know either. But none of those were answers for your four-year-old. So instead, you pulled her a little closer.
"Sometimes there are things even doctors can't fix."
Aliah thought about that before her face slowly started to fall.
"So..." she started quietly. "The baby isn't coming to our house?"
You closed your eyes briefly before looking back at her. "No, baby. The baby isn't coming home."
The toy slipped a little in her lap as she hugged it tighter. Her lower lip trembled. You could practically see the disappointment settling over her. Not the same grief the adults were carrying. A child's version of it—it was simple, innocent and honest.
After a moment, she leaned against your side. You wrapped an arm around her immediately.
"The baby knew we loved them though, right?" she asked suddenly.
The question caught you off guard. A tear slipped down your cheek but smiled through it.
"Yeah." Your voice cracked. "Very, very much."
That seemed to satisfy her. She nodded quietly before curling closer against you.
You looked up and found Natasha standing in the doorway of the living room. She must have followed after all.
For a moment, she simply stood there, taking in the sight of you and Aliah curled together on the couch. Her eyes lingered on your face, on the exhaustion you were no longer doing a very good job of hiding. Then her attention shifted to Aliah. Your daughter looked exhausted. The earlier questions were gone. The curiosity was gone. The toy she'd been holding was now resting loosely against her lap as she leaned heavily against your side. Without saying anything, she walked over. When she reached the couch, she crouched down slightly in front of Aliah and brushed a hand through her hair.
"Hey, malysh."
Aliah looked up. The second she saw Natasha, she immediately leaned toward her. Natasha's expression softened. She slid her arms underneath her daughter and lifted her effortlessly into her arms. Once Aliah was settled comfortably against her shoulder, Natasha adjusted her hold and pressed a kiss against the side of her head.
"Let mommy rest, alright?" she said quietly. Her hand rubbed slow circles against Aliah's back. "She's tired."
The words were directed at Aliah, but Natasha's eyes briefly found yours. There was something gentle about it. Something that felt less like an instruction and more like permission.
Like she was telling you that for a little while, she could handle this. That you didn't have to carry everything alone.
Aliah nodded weakly against her shoulder. For a second, it looked like she was about to settle there completely before she suddenly lifted her head.
Natasha blinked in surprise as Aliah immediately stretched one arm toward you.
"Mommy." You looked up. "Come on."
Before you could react, your daughter wriggled enough for Natasha to carefully lower her back to the floor. The second her feet touched the ground, she walked over to you and reached for both of your hands.
"Let's get you to bed, mommy."
Your chest tightened instantly. The seriousness in her voice nearly broke you.
"So you can rest." Your baby looked genuinely concerned.
A shaky laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
God. You loved this child. You loved her so much it hurt.
"Yeah?" you asked softly.
Aliah nodded immediately. "Yeah."
Then she gave your hands a tiny tug. An attempt to pull you to your feet. One that would have been adorable if it wasn't so heartbreakingly sincere.
Behind her, Natasha watched the entire exchange. And for the first time that day, a small smile appeared on her face. Not because anything was fixed or because the grief was gone. But because even after one of the hardest days your family had ever faced, Aliah's first instinct was still love.
To comfort.
To protect.
To take care of the people she loved.
And somehow, standing there between you and Natasha, holding onto both your hands as if she could keep everything together by herself.
"I'll check upstairs first, okay?" You kissed her before carefully releasing her hands and pushed yourself to your feet.
Wanda and Pietro are still in the kitchen, finishing everything that needs to be done so you don't have to do and worry about them yourself.
Natasha remained where she was, holding Aliah against her shoulder.
Your daughter was practically limp with exhaustion now. One small arm hung around Natasha's neck while the other loosely held onto the baby toy she'd found. Every now and then her eyes would close completely before forcing themselves open again. Natasha continued rubbing slow circles against her back. Then she felt Aliah shift slightly against her shoulder.
"Mama?" The word came out soft—half-asleep.
Natasha immediately looked down. "Yeah, malysh?"
"Can we have another baby, mama?"
Everything inside Natasha stopped. The hand moving against Aliah's back froze and her breathing caught. She lowered her eyes. Her gaze immediately landed on the toy still tucked against her daughter's chest. The toy that should have belonged to someone else.
A sharp pain settled in her chest.
Aliah waited patiently. The way children always did when they asked something they believed had a simple answer.
Natasha swallowed. Her throat suddenly felt too tight. "I don't know, detka." She pressed a gentle kiss against the top of her daughter's head. "Mommy needs to get better first, detka."
"Oh." Her cheek settled deeper against Natasha's shoulder. "Because she's still sick?"
Natasha's chest tightened. "Yes."
That was the simplest answer. The one a four-year-old could understand.
Aliah nodded sleepily. Then, after a few seconds, she asked, "So after she gets better?"
Natasha smiled sadly. Children always wanted definite answers. The world was either yes or no. Tomorrow or today. Nothing in between.
But you and Natasha weren't like that—especially not now.
"Maybe," Natasha said softly.
"But do you want a baby too, mama?"
Natasha froze. The question wasn't loud, but it hit harder than anything else that moment because it wasn't about explanation or permission anymore. It was about wanting. About imagining a future that didn't exist yet but there's a possibility
Aliah's eyes were half closed, heavy with sleep, but still focused on Natasha's face with that quiet seriousness children had when they were trying to understand things that were too big for them.
"I want a sibling," she added slowly, her words slurring a little as exhaustion pulled at her again. "I want a baby sister…or a brother."
Natasha opened her mouth immediately, instinctively, because the answer should have been simple—yes. Of course yes. She had imagined it before without even meaning to, in small moments she never admitted to anyone. A second child in the house. A chance to experience things differently this time, to do it right.
To do all of it with you.
She swallowed hard, her throat tight, her eyes dropping briefly to Aliah's sleeping face again as she gently adjusted her in her arms. When she spoke, her voice came out quieter, steadier, but threaded with something she was trying very hard to keep from spilling over.
"I know, detka," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I know you want that." There was a pause as she carefully chose her words, because she refused to give her daughter something that might break later. "I want you to be happy," she continued gently, her hand moving in slow circles across Aliah's back, "and I want you to have a sibling one day."
Aliah made a small sound, barely awake, like she was accepting the answer without fully processing it anymore.
Natasha held her a little closer.
"But not everything is simple right now," she added softly, the honesty slipping out more than she intended, though still softened for a child who wouldn't fully understand it yet.
And that was the truth she couldn't avoid—she wanted it. She wanted it more than she was ready to admit out loud.
But wanting wasn't enough. Not when you were still grieving. Not when you might probably still be healing from everything she did. Not when she wasn't even sure where she stood in your life anymore, let alone whether there was room for a future that included something as big as another child.
So Natasha stayed quiet after that, simply holding her daughter against her chest. Her gaze drifted once more toward the staircase where you had gone earlier and for a moment she just stood there between two impossible things—a child dreaming of a future and an adult who didn't yet know if she was allowed to be part of yours.
When you finally came back down the stairs, the apartment felt quieter than before. The kind of quiet that wasn't empty, just softened by exhaustion and everything that had already been said. Natasha was still where you left her, now sitting on the couch with Aliah completely asleep in her arms. The toy had slipped to her side, barely held in place by her fingers now.
You finally spoke quietly, your voice low so you wouldn't disturb Aliah. "You can take her upstairs now, the one with an open door is my room."
Natasha looked up immediately at your voice, "Okay."
You watched her go for a moment, your gaze lingering on your daughter's sleeping face, before turning away toward the kitchen.
Pietro was by the counter when you walked over, still looking like he hadn't fully recovered from earlier. The shame was still there, quiet but obvious, like he was replaying every word he had said to Aliah and trying to figure out how he could have said it better. He looked up immediately, and the guilt in his face only deepened.
"Y/N, I—about earlier, I didn't mean for her to understand it like that. I thought I was being careful, I swear I did, I just—"
You cut him off before he could spiral further.
"I know," you said softly. You reached out and placed a hand on his arm to ground him. "It's okay, really. You were trying to help."
Pietro looked at you for a long moment, like he wanted to believe you but didn't quite know how to let himself off the hook. Finally, he gave a small, reluctant nod. Not fully convinced, but accepting your reassurance anyway because it was you giving it.
"Also, thank you for what you did upstairs, Piet. Everything here in the house." You gave him a small, tired smile before moving past him.
Wanda was near the kitchen doorway now, arms crossed, watching both of you quietly. She had that look again. The one that meant she had already made up her mind about something and was just waiting for the right moment to say it out loud.
It came the second you faced her.
"I can't trust her to be here," Wanda said flatly, nodding slightly toward the upstairs without even needing to say Natasha's name.
You exhaled through your nose and gave her a look. "You know she has a name, right?"
Wanda rolled her eyes playfully but there is a seriousness in it. "I feel like it's a curse."
You let out a soft and tired laugh at her reaction.
"I heard her conversation with Aliah."
That alone made something in your chest tighten, but you were too tired to fully chase it. Too drained to dig deeper into whatever Wanda was implying.
"Aliah wants a sibling."
Your daughter wants a sibling? It shouldn't have surprised you.
Because earlier—back in the living room, in that conversation you'd barely survived emotionally—you had already seen it. The way she held onto that toy. The way she asked where the baby was like it was just somewhere out of reach. That in the simplest possible way, something lost could still be found if someone tried hard enough.
"Your daughter wants a sibling now. And God, Y/N…" she trailed off, shaking her head like she was trying to hold back too many thoughts at once. "You can't yet," she said more quietly, but firmly. "You're fresh out of surgery."
You let out a breath and leaned back slightly against the counter, tiredness catching up to you all over again. A small, helpless laugh slipped out before you could stop it.
You let out a quiet sigh and rubbed at your forehead. "I'm serious," you said again. "I..."
Your hand lifted instinctively, like you were about to make a point, but the thought never fully formed. Too many things crowded your mind at once and suddenly you couldn't find the energy to sort through any of them.
You lowered your hand again with a tired breath. "I just..." You shook your head. "Wands, I don't even know what tomorrow looks like right now."
Wanda studied you for a moment longer, trying to decide whether to believe you or just wait for reality to prove her right later. Finally, she sighed, but her posture didn't fully relax.
"Just…don't have sex with her," she said, less sharp now but still firm. "Is all I'm saying."
"Oh God, Wanda," You let out a small, tired laugh under your breath, more out of disbelief than humor. Rolling your eyes at your bestfriend.
After a few more minutes, the Maximoff sibs finally left. Pietro gave you a careful hug and another apology that you quickly brushed aside, reassuring him with a tired smile that everything was okay. Wanda, on the other hand, looked like she still wanted to argue. She hugged you tightly, reminded you to rest at least three times, and made you promise to text her tomorrow. Before leaving, she shot one last suspicious glance upstairs, clearly directed at Natasha, before disappearing out the door with her brother.
Once they were gone, the apartment became noticeably quieter. You took a slow walk through the kitchen and living room, more out of habit than necessity. Pietro had already taken care of most things while you were away. The counters were clean, dishes put away, and everything looked exactly as it should.
Then reality settled in. Wanda and Pietro were gone. Aliah was asleep upstairs. The distractions had disappeared. Which left only one person left in the apartment besides you—Natasha. You let out a slow breath and rubbed a hand over your face. Somehow, after everything that had happened today, facing her felt like the hardest part.
Before you come upstairs, the redhead is already coming down. She spotted you immediately, standing alone in the living room and slowed slightly as she approached. The house felt strangely quiet now that—just the two of you.
"Hey," she said softly.
You looked up and gave a small nod. "Hey."
For a moment, neither of you said anything. Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other before finally gathering the courage to ask, "Do you want to talk?" The question was careful, almost tentative. Like she was afraid of pushing too hard after everything that had happened.
"Sorry, Natasha," you said quietly. "I can't right now, I'm tired."
The answer wasn't a rejection, but Natasha's face still fell slightly before she quickly masked it.
"Yeah. Of course, I am sorry." She nodded immediately, stepping closer without thinking. "Do you want me to help you upstairs?" she asked. "Are you comfortable? Do you need—"
"I'm fine." You shook your head gently before she could continue.
A silence settled between you again. This one wasn't awkward so much as heavy. You found yourself staring at a spot on the floor before speaking again.
"I'm sorry."
Natasha looked at you again.
"I'm sorry I can't answer your question yet. You know, the other night..."
The words landed exactly as heavily as you expected them to. Natasha didn't look away.
"I know what you asked me. I know what you're asking for." Your voice softened. "And I know you need an answer." A tired smile appeared for only a second before fading again. "I just don't have one right now."
You looked at her for a long moment before speaking again.
"But if you want to stay..." your voice trailed off briefly. "You can."
A faint smile touched your lips. You looked away for a second before gesturing vaguely toward the living room.
"I mean, we don't have a guest room. But the couch is big enough for you, I guess. Well, I hope it's fine with you."
A small laugh escaped you afterward, quiet and weary, but genuine. It was the first time all day something had felt remotely normal.
The sound made Natasha smile. A real one this time. Small, soft, and almost disbelieving. She lowered her gaze for a moment before looking back at you.
"Of course," she said softly. "Anything, for you."
For a moment, neither of you said anything after that. The conversation was supposed to be about something simple. About her staying. About the couch. About not making her drive home when she was already here. On the surface, that was all you were talking about.
But maybe only you knew it meant more than that.
Or maybe, judging by the way Natasha answered and looked at you, she knew too.
Summary: After an argument between you and your mother, you find yourself in an increasingly dangerous situation while you mother is drinking.
Word count: ≈3300
Warnings: mentions of past trauma (Nat), kidnapping, restraining of a minor
Reading time: ≈15 mins
Type: Oneshot
a/n - i literally got my roomate to handcuff me with kids halloween costume to prove it was possible to get your hands to the front of your body 😞
“Alright, which one of you motherfuckers snitched on me to my mom?” you ask, eyes gazing over five equally guilty looking Avengers. At least they had the decency to look guilty under your "Romanoff look" as they called it.
Steve's brows furrow. “Language, Y/N.”
Clint smirks, he knows he shouldn't. “Kids got your mouth, Nat.”
“Hey, don't look at me. I didn't say anything. Blame JARVIS. It was the AI, yeah,” Tony mutters defensively.
“We were concerned—” Bruce starts.
“Oh Asgard,” Thor interrupts. “Honesty is a virtue. I merely suggested that Lady Natasha may wish to know the exploits of her daughter.”
Natasha finally speak, her voice calm but with a knife-like edge. “You're grounded by the way.”
“Seriously?!” you spin, turning to face her. “After everything you taught me? Oh my God, I didn't even throw the first punch!”
Natasha's eyes narrow. “Arguing with teachers, sneaking out to parties, putting yourself at risk...that's not what I taught you. I taught you to defend yourself, not self destrut.”
The air in the room tightened. You could feel every Avenger watching, half-amused, half-sympathetic. Clint whistled low under his breath. Steve rubbed the back of his neck. Bruce coughed. Tony mouthed 'ouch'.
“I'm not self destructing, I'm living! I'm sixteen, you can't spy on me forever!“
Natasha steps closer, her eyes narrowing again. “I'm not spying, I'm protecting you. You're not a soldier, Y/N. You're my kid. And one day, when your older, you'll understand the difference.”
“Fir Gods sake! God forbid I'm just being a kid!”
“I know. I was your age too, I know what making mistakes feels like—”
“No,” you interrupt. “You don't! What do you know about being a kid! You never were one! You don't know anything about being a kid or having a normal childhood, so why are you trying to control mine like they controlled your!” you snap. Shit. You immediately regret the words the second they came out, but anger, stubbornness prevent you from apologising, or even just looking regretful.
The room goes silent. Thor stops smiling. Bruce looks like he wants to disappear. Even Tony and Clint can't crack a joke or something sarcastic.
Natasha doesn't yell. Maybe that makes it worse, because god you wish she would. Thad make it easier. “Get out.” she says, her voice icy.
“Mom—”
“Nat—” Steve tries to reason.
“Get out.” she repeats, her voice too calm, too steady for comfort. Icily cold. You stand in front of her a moment, frozen. You hated that tone. The one that screamed 'i'm not angry,, just disappointed.' You think that makes it worse. For the first time in your life, she doesn't look angry. She looks wounded.
“Fine,” you snap, storming out of the front door of the tower, grabbing a jacket off the hook. Her jacket.
The streets of New York are cold. That kind of night time air that chills you to the bone. You slide her jacket over your arms, wrapping them around your waist. The streets are fairly empty now, most people already home from work and school. Streetlights blink lazily above you as you walk, protesting the dark night.
In a local park, you find a bench. Brown painted wood, though chipping in most places. Normally, there'd be dozens of kids running around playing in the park, or tag or chasing each other on bikes. Not now though. Most kids were asleep, dreaming, not outside because they shouted something unforgivable at their mother. You sigh, slouching back against the bench. “Fucking idiot...”
The night is calm around you, quiet save for the buzzing and humming of insects in the grass. It's peaceful, you can feel yourself calming down as you sit back on the bench.
Something is off though. Like the darkness is watching you. You sit up slightly, turning your head to look behind you. Nothing. Just your imagination. The hair on the back of your neck don't settle, still raised like a sixth sense. You flip around again, eyes searching the brush behind the bench. Scanning...nothing again. But suddenly, in your peripherals as you turn around again, you catch movement. Not big, not obvious. Small, careful, hidden movements, coming closer and closer to you.
You stay forzen for a moment, checking. It could just be an elderly lady, slowly taking a late night walk. Or a small, scared kid who'd played too hard at the park and got lost from their parents. Or even a single parent, tired but trying to get home from a late shift to see their children. You try desperately to tell yourself that's all it it, but deep down you know it's unlikely.
The shadow gets closer, closer still. Moving definitely towards the bench, not along the path. You're suddenly aware of how empty the park is. No dog walkers. No traffic. No voices. Just you.You barely manage to linge forwards off the bench as a gloved hand flies towards where your head was. Shit. You duck again, spinning back towards the person.
“You're coming with us,” the person hisses. Female. The woman leaves the shadows slightly, black leather jumpsuit shining slightly in the warm, flickering streetlight.
“I'm not going anywhere—” you're cut off as the woman lungers again, forcing you to drop to the ground to avoid her arms. Controlled, you notice. Clearly knows what she's doing. Shit.
The hand shoots toward you. You stumble back so quickly your heel catches on the bench. The figure keeps coming. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Your heartbeat slams against your ribs. You shove at them and try to bolt, but your legs feel clumsy, heavy with panic.
"Get off me!" you snap, the words coming out far thinner than you meant. Not angry at all. Suddenly this isn't some stranger in a park. This is danger. And all you can think is, I want my mom.
A pair of arms wrap around your waist before you can escape, pulling you against her front. One hand moves up to force your jaw up, your breathing heavy, heart pounding in your ears, jaw, head. You slam your elbow backwards. The woman grunts. You wrench free for half a second and run. Three steps. That's all you get before something catches your ankle and sends you crashing onto the pavement. "Stubborn," the woman mutters, hauling you upright. "Just like her."
The woman forces you to walk forwards with her, towards a cul-de-sac nearby. Empty, isolated. Shit. You grunt as she forces you forwards again, towards a large dark shadow pulled up at the side of the road. Something slides open. “Get off me,” you snap, trying to sound braver than you feel.
“Shutbup, girl. You're coming back home,” she hisses back, continuing closer and closer to whatever has slid. Was that a van?
“I am home—”
“Shut. Up.”
You do, remaining silent, until you're shoved forwards into the back of a van, the woman tying your hands behind you back before sliding the door shut again. Shit.
The engine hums, vibrating beneath you. You manage to manuveur yourself to sit up. You whimper slightly as the rough driving shoves you into the wall, banging your shoulder.
You need your mom.
Your phone, shoved in your hoodie pocket, isn't exactly an easy reach. Your tied hands grasp desperately at your hoodie, trying to tug the pocket round so you can slide your phone out. A small thud on the metal flooring. Your hands fumble around for where it dropped until they find something small and rectangular. Your fingers work numbly to type in your pin number. Your neck ached from craning it almost behind you to allow your hands to use the phone.
Finally, finally, you press on Natasha's number. Mama ♡︎
The phone rings. Once. “Come on...”
Twice. “Mom..pick up ”
A third time. “Please.”
Nothing.
Natasha watches it ring, taking another swig from her bottle of vodka. The towers flat roof is quiet, just the wind blowing past her routinely. The vodka burns going down. Good. Her phone buzzes again.
Detka is calling...
Her thumb hovers over the green button. She lets it ring. She can't do this tonight because you were both angry and he can't bare to hear your voice now, angry and defensive, calling her controlling.
“Please, mom...” you whisper, eyes glued to the 'calling Mama ♡︎...' on the screen. The call ends. You try a text, fingers moving slowly across the keyboard.
'Mim'
No reply. Not even read by Natasha.
'wuick'
Another sip of vodka burns down her throat. She'd heard worse.Had knives held to her throat. Been called a monster. 'You never were one.' That one stayed. Her phone vibrates. 2 missed calls. 3 text messages.
'Mim'
'wuick'
'please'
Natasha sighs. You weren't even bothering to apologise, yet you were begging her to reply to you? Her jaw clenches. “I can't deal with this right now...” she mutters, running her hands down her face. Besides, you were fine. Maybe you'd dropped your phone.Maybe you were drunk at some stupid party.
The fourth text buzzes through — 'hekp'
What the hell does that mean?, Natasha wonders. Her brain dismissed it at first. Then it rearranged itself. Help. Help? Why would you be asking for help? Because if you just wanted her to apologise for telling you to leave, you had another thing coming. But something knaws at her, low in her stomach. What if you weren't just texting bullshit for the sake of it? What if you really did need help?
“JARVIS,” she says quickly the second she's back inside. “Track my daughter. Now.”
“Y/N Romanoff is moving rapidly near the local park, Ms Romanoff,” the AI responds.
“Shit,” she mutters, grabbing her keys off the counter, pressing her phone to her ear again as she calls you. “Come on...”
Two rings. “Please, baby...”
On the bottom floor of the Tower, Natasha slings a leg over her motorcycle, clicking the key in the ignition. Third ring. “Come on, kid...pick up.”
She lets the bike idle under her for a minute, just hoping you'll pick up. Just as Natasha is about to hang up and set off, the line clicks.
“Y/N?” Natasha asks, holding the phone on her shoulder as she revs the bike.
“Mom...?” your voice whispers through, high pitched and chocked, like you were close to tears. You manage to maneuver your tied wrists under your body to the front of you, holding the phone closer to your ear. Natasha's heart shatters. Hearing her baby, her world, her daughter's voice break in fear like that? None of it matters anymore. Not the argument, or what you'd said or the vodka. None of it matters. Her baby sounds terrified.
“What's happening? What's 'help', baby? That's what you meant, right?” Natasha asks, pulling out of the garage.
Your voice shakes. “Mom I'm so scared, I— I don't...I don't know where I— I'm going a— and...”
“Come on, sweetheart...slow down. Breathe. You can't help me find you if you pass out, okay?”
“Okay...” you whisper, your breathing coming through the phone heavoly. You can hear Natasha's bike revving and swerving between other cars.
“Slowly. What happened, baby?”
“I— I was sitting, um...on a bench at the park, and...it was calm, and then— then some woman just um, just lunged at me and...and now I'm in a van...I'm scared, I'm so scared mom...”
“I know...I know darling. Just breathe. Nice, deep breaths for me,” Natasha replies calmly, wind whipping in the background. “Did you see what they looked like?”
“It— it was a woman...”
“Clothes?”
“I...I don't...” you hesitate.
Natasha sighs slightly. Her baby...you shouldn't have to be dealing with this. “Come on, malysh. Try for me.”
You pause, furrowing your brows in concentration. The van rattles around you, wrists starting to chafe at the restraints rubbing. “I think...like, a leather jumpsuit thing, um...black...kinda shiny..” You pause again. “Kinda looks like your Black Widow suit, actually..”
Natasha's heart skips a beat. That could not be good. Someone wearing a Widow suit could only be... Natasha's blood turns cold. Black leather. Controlled movements. A woman. Widow. “Shit.”
“What— shit what, what's shit? Mom?” your voice echoes through, more panicked now if that was possible.
“No ,nothing. Don't panic. listen to me. You're okay. I'm coming to get you. Do you hear me? I'm coming,” she replies. “I nerd you to do something for me, okay?”
“...okay.”
“You need to text Tony, and tell him to get JARVIS to send me directions to your location through Comms, okay?” she asks.
You nod, even though she can't see you. Shaky fingers click on Tony's name.
'nerd jarvis to grt mom locdtion over coms'
“He said thumbs up,” you murmur, tugging her jacket sleeves over your hands.
Natahsa keeps talking to you. Calm, collected. The way someone who's trained to be calm in every situation is. But deep down, she's panicking. Because you're her world. The one thing she never thought she'd be able to have.
Suddenly you shush her over the phone. “Shh! She's talking about you...”
From the front seat, you can hear the woman talking to an older lady. “The defected Widow's daughter. You have her?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“And she's in one piece?”
“Yes ma'am.”
Shit. Natasha thinks. This wasn't just a random coincidence. This was a targeted attempt to take her child from her.
“Next left, Nat,” Tony's voice comes through her comms, repeating JARVIS' instructions.
“Mom?” you say after a moment. She hums. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I was just...”
“I know. I know, baby. You were angry. I was angry too. When I was your age, and now.”
“I shouldn't,” you hiccup. “I shouldn't have left.”
"No, sweetheart. Listen to me. You could've walked out ten times tonight and none of this would've been your fault.”
“Nat, duck right through that park and you should be able to catch up with her.”
She swerves hard right, multiple cars honking angrily at her as she cuts them off. She doesn't care. Her daughter is being taken to the place Natasha was raised. They wanted her and took her daughter instead.
“I'm coming, detka. Hold on.”
The van suddenly swerves hard, throwing you uncontrollably face first into the metal walls of the van, your phone clattering to the floor from your loose grip. You hiss. “Agh...fuck...”
“What? What happened? Y/N? Answer me,” Natasha says quickly, ducking under branches and jumping the motorcycle over loose roots.
“Ow...my nose.”
Natasha's heart nearly stops. “Your nose?” she asks quickly. "Baby, are you bleeding?”
You sniff, touching your face with shaky fingers. “I...I think so. Not a lot. It just hurts.”
“Okay. That's okay. You're okay.” Her voice stays calm despite the fact she's gripping the handlebars hard enough that her knuckles are white. “Can you still hear me?”
"Yeah.”
“Good girl. Stay with me.”
The van rattles again. You pull her jacket sleeve over your hand and wipe under your nose. Your breathing is still shaky. “Mom?”
“I'm here.”
“I don't wanna go there.”
The words come out so small that they nearly break her. You're sixteen. Too old to sound like that. Too old to sound like a little kid. But you're scared. And all Natasha hears is her baby. “You're not going there,” she says firmly.
“You don't know where they are taking me.”
”No.” She swallows hard. “But I know you're coming home.”
Silence. “...Promise?”
Natasha's eyes sting. “I promise.”
A voice suddenly sounds from the front of the van. “She's still on the phone.”
You freeze. Natasha hears it too. The woman on comms sighs. "Take it.”
Your breathing picks up. “Mom—”
“I'm here.”
The van slows. The door handle rattles. “Mom—”
“Look at me, detka.”She knows you can't actually see her, but she keeps talking anyway. “Listen to my voice. I'm right here.”
The doors slide open. Cold air rushes inside. The woman appears.
Her eyes narrow at the sight of the phone. She reaches for it. You pull back instinctively. ”Mom—”
“Y/N.”
“I don't want—” you start.
“I know.”
The woman grabs your wrist. You gasp. Natasha hears it. Every protective instinct in her detonates.
“Do not touch my daughter.” The words come out low. Deadly. The woman pauses. The woman hesitates. Only for a second. A motorcycle bursts out from the tree line. Headlights flood the road. The Widow flinches. Natasha doesn't even wait for the bike to stop completely. She throws herself off it, boots hitting the pavement hard. "Mom!" you sob.
You have never been so happy to see anyone in your life. The woman recovers quickly, one hand still gripping your wrist. “Back off, Romanoff.”
Natasha goes terrifyingly still. “You know me?” she asks.
“Everyone knows you.”
Natasha's eyes flick over you. Your tied wrists. The blood beneath your nose. The way you're shaking. Something dark settles behind her expression. “Let. Her. Go.”
The woman straightens. “Orders.”
“I don't care.”
“They want you.”
"I know.” A pause. “Take me instead.”
You freeze. “Mom, no.”
Natasha doesn't look at you. The woman studies her carefully. ”You'd trade places?”
“Without hesitation.”
“Mom!”
Natasha finally glances at you. And the expression on her face nearly breaks you all over again. She's terrified. Not for herself. For you. “You don't ever have to be brave for me, detka,” she says softly. Tears spill down your face. “I can be brave enough for both of us.”
The woman frowns. “You really would do it.”
Natasha almost looks offended. “She's my daughter.”
Silence. Noise. Not police. Avengers.
Red and gold streaks overhead. A shadow lands beside Natasha. "Wow,” Tony says, looking between everyone. ”I leave for five minutes and suddenly we're doing kidnappings now?”
Another figure drops beside him. Steve. Then Clint. Then Thor. Then Hulk. The woman's grip on your wrist loosens. She knows she's lost.
Natasha notices immediately. She moves. One second she's standing several feet away. The next she's beside you. Her hand catches your face. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”
You can't stop crying. “I'm sorry," you choke out.
Natasha looks like you've punched her. "No.”
“I'm sorry I said—”
“No. Her hands move to your face properly now. “Not one word right now.”
“I didn't mean—”
“I know.” Your chin wobbles. "I know, baby.”
The woman behind you makes a move. Steve steps forward. “Don't.”
She stops. You don't even notice. Because Natasha is here. She's kneeling in front of you, hands cupping your cheeks, and suddenly you can't breathe properly. “I thought you weren't coming,” you whisper.
The words destroy her. She pulls you against her immediately. “I was always coming.”
You break completely. Her arms wrap around you so tightly it almost hurts. You cling back just as hard. “I was so scared.”
“I know.”
“I didn't know where I was.”
“I know.”
“I thought—”
“I know, detka.” Her hand finds the back of your head. You're crying into her shoulder. She's shaking too. “I've got you.” A kiss presses into your hair. “I've got you.” Another. “You're okay.” She smooths some dirt on your face “You're getting blood in my hair...but we're okay.”
And for the first time since the van door closed you believe her.
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