I will be your family
masterlist ao3 profile
summary: growing up on the streets had never been easy, but when you steal the wrong person’s wallet, your life changes forever…
pairing: Mob!Natasha x child reader
warnings: none, just pure fluff
genre: fluff, angst
words: 1763
a/n: something abnormal is going on cause I’ve written three fics this week and I am planning on writing more. the apocalypse is near…
this one is posted on ao3 at the same time, so if you prefer to read on ao3 click this link
You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work
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When your parents died, you were only six, and it didn’t take long before you realised you would have to resort to stealing to survive. Foster care never came to pick you up, with how over full they have been since a virus three years ago.
Many adults succumbed to the virus, and with that many children were left an orphan.
The government took in who they could, but a large percentage of the orphans were left on the street, you included.
You started stealing two years ago. You were against it at first, but when you got so sick from being hungry, you stole a cinnamon bun from a bakery. It was the best piece of food you had ever eaten.
Soon, you moved up from stealing food. You learned swiping wallets wasn’t that difficult with people being distracted by their smartphones.
Stealing was easy, and while you still slept under a bridge, you did so with a full tummy.
Now you were eight, and you spotted your best target yet.
You were sitting at a table in the mall, munching on a sandwich while scouting the best potential targets. So far, a red-headed woman caught your eye. She was on her own, and when she pulled out her wallet she was absolutely loaded.
Seriously, who carries around that much cash? She was basically asking to get robbed.
To make it easier for you, she literally put her wallet in her back pocket. Like, be for real lady, you’re about to get robbed by an eight year old and it’s your own fault.
You finish your sandwich quickly, abandoning the wrapper at the table while starting to follow the red haired lady around. She doesn’t stop at any of the other stores, just the one jewelry store you spotted her in. Maybe she was picking up a nice pair of earrings.
Had you been older, or perhaps been able to follow the news, you’d known who you were following, and you’d known about the bodyguards she always had with her.
Unfortunately, you hadn’t, and when you swipe her wallet, all you can do is yelp at the strong hand that encircles your entire upper arm.
“Hands off,” a gruff voice commands.
Startled, you drop the wallet, staring up at the man with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been caught before. What the fuck do you do now?
You turn your head to look at the red haired lady, seeing her now staring down at you with intrigue, rather than anger.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!” the man asks meanly, his voice rough and commanding. It makes you quiver. You don’t think you’ve ever been this scared.
“James, be gentle,” the red haired woman commands, and immediately the man loosens his grip on your arm. He doesn’t let go, however.
The woman crouches down, now just a little lower than your eye level. You were never a tall child.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
You shake, tears now falling from your eyes and staining your cheeks. The woman reaches out her hand, gently running her hand along your cheek before using her thumb to wipe your tears away.
“It’s quite alright, darling, there there. Why did you try to steal, hm?”
You can’t find it in yourself to respond, scared of what the consequences might be. Will she call the police? Will you go to prison for all the stealing you have done so far?
The man holding you gives you a light shake. “Answer.”
“James,” the red haired lady immediately scolds.
The man, ‘James’, lets go of your arm completely now, grunting some response to the lady who has now gently taken your hand. She’s started stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” the lady says. “Why don’t you tell me where your parents are?”
You sniffle, stuttering slightly when you try to speak.
“Dead…”
The expression of the woman turns glum. Then, she pushes that expression away, putting a pleasant smile on her face.
“Well, we can’t have you returning to the children under the bridge now, can we? How about you come with me, and I will make sure you have a nice warm bed for tonight?”
You look at her confused. “You’re not going to call the police?”
The woman laughs.
“Oh, no, darling. Let’s just say I’m a bit more important than the police around these parts. I can personally decide over your punishment for trying to steal, and right now that ‘punishment’ consists of a warm meal and a warm bed.”
“Why?” you ask her, voice shaky and confused as to why this woman whom you tried to steal from would want to help you.
“Because you are quite a clever child. Had James here not caught you, I wouldn’t have noticed.” The woman reaches her hand towards your face again, gently pushing some hair behind your ear.
“Not many people manage to sneak up on me, and an even smaller percentage manages to steal from me without me noticing. You are a very special child, my darling.”
The stand from her crouching position, gently taking a hold of your hand and guiding you out of the mall, towards the parking lot. It’s only now you notice that large group of guys in suits that follow her.
She leads you towards an expensive looking, black suv, opening the door for you and helping you step in.
She climbs in after you, sitting next to you while James takes the passenger's seat. Another man in a suit takes the driver's seat.
“Are you famous?” you then ask.
The woman looks amused, a small chuckle escaping her mouth.
“You could say so, yes, although I am not famous in the sense you’re thinking of. I’m not a movie star, nor a famous singer.”
“What are you then?”
“I am a business woman,” the lady says, straightening her jacket.
“A business woman? Are business women considered famous?” you ask. The woman nods.
“Oh yes, I do so much important business, I’ve grown quite the name for myself,” she says, before she smiles kindly.
“But those are not the things you should be concerning yourself with. How about you tell me your name now?”
You nod, telling her your name to which she responds with her own.
Natasha.
After about an hour, you arrive at a very large, high building. The car drives into a garage under the building, and when it comes to a stop one of the men in suits opens the door for you and Natasha.
Natasha helps you step out of the car, and she leads you towards the elevator.
You stare at the buttons hopefully, not wanting to ask yet also not wanting to let this opportunity pass you by.
You don’t know if Natasha is a psychic, but after the day you’ve had you might argue that she is. She doesn’t even need for you to utter a single word before she’s motioning her head towards the buttons.
“PH,” she says, and you’re quick to press the button that reads ‘PH’.
What it stands for you don’t know.
Once upstairs, Natasha leads you into what you assume is her kitchen, where an old lady is already cooking.
“Do you have any allergies?” Natasha asks, to which you shake your head.
Natasha pulls out a chair for you, helping you climb onto the high stool before sitting in the one opposite from you.
“Do you live here alone?” you ask after a moment of silence.
Natasha nods. “It’s quite big to be living alone, I agree. Perhaps you could help me fill up the space.”
“How?” you ask. Natasha smiles.
“Well, what do you like to play with? Do you have any favourite toys?”
You look down at your hands, picking your skin while you fidget anxiously.
“I don’t have any toys…”
Natasha smiles again, and when you look at her, you feel… safe…
“We’ll fill it up with all the toys you want. Perhaps we’ll start with a nice drawing set. What do you think about that? Perhaps some nice crayons?”
At the mention of crayons, your head perks up. You’ve always liked drawing.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Natasha promises.
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You’ve been with Natasha for a few weeks, and you’ve never been happier. Settling into a routine with her was rather easy. Natasha was very clear and direct, which you thrived on. The structure she provided you was something you never knew you needed.
She did get you those crayons she promised, and you were currently laying on the carpet in the living room, drawing a beautiful picture for Natasha.
You were drawing the two of you, holding hands, and you even added a big red heart in between the two of you.
Granted, they were only stick figures, but you hadn’t had a lot of practice in your life. You’d improve, Natasha promised.
After debating it for a few minutes, you grabbed the yellow crayon and added a crown to Natasha’s stick figure. You very quickly learned Natasha was basically the queen of the underworld, and funnily enough, that didn’t bother you.
She provided you safety when no one else did.
She gave you a warm bed, hot meals every night, and most importantly, love.
You finished your drawing, standing up from your spot on the floor in favour of going to Natasha’s office. She’s probably busy, like she always is, but she’s assured you that she doesn’t mind when you interrupt her.
You knock on her door anyway, and when you hear her call out you push the door open.
Natasha immediately closes her laptop, smiling while she pushes her chair back, patting her lap in invitation.
You’re quick to rush over, scrambling to sit in her lap and enjoying the kisses you receive on your head. Natasha holds you tightly, the warm, strong embrace of a mother.
“What do you have there?” she asks when she spots the paper in your hand.
Shyly, you hand her the drawing, studying her face while she observes it.
“Oh Malyshka,” she sighs happily, “this is wonderful. Truly an outstanding job you’ve done. Is this me?”
You nod, laying your head on her shoulder.
“You have a crown because you’re a queen,” you explain.
Natasha smiles, kissing you cheeks and forehead a million times.
“I love it, you’ve done a wonderful job. I will make sure to hang it somewhere where it can be admired every single day.”
You smile, kissing her cheek.
“Thank you mama.”
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