Natasha Romanoff oneshots gxg

...Lessons Learned Part 2

Shit's long and traumatizing if you're sensitive to Natasha's redroom trauma's
Good luck to your heart. ❤️❤️

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One week, seven days, 10,080 minutes, and she didn't even want to consider the seconds.

If you were to ask the woman what was harder: "Single" Parenting or Avenging, she'd answer you before you could even mutter the second option. After now having dealt with a distraught toddler, and the six year old that's apparently going on sixteen she's absolutely besides herself.

You've barely said but three words to her since walking out on her the night of the party. Whenever you do call it's something along the lines of "Where're the kids," then you'd let Mason talk your ear off before sighing heavily as Lily says hardly a word before you're hanging up, leaving Natasha to deal with the even sadder toddler, and the brooding child.

When she'd arrived to Laura's without you, looking distraught herself she was met with an apologetic smile, then passed a crying toddler. Mason pulled his thumb from his mouth so that he could wrap his arms tightly around his mothers neck, then continued to lightly sob until he eventually cried himself to sleep. In contrast, Lily had greeted her with a beaming smile, and a hug that nearly toppled her over.

Natasha was currently drowning in a bottle of whiskey, kids finally down for the night, left wondering how in the hell everything had managed to get this bad. One day you're like giddy teenagers—crazy in love, the next you're fighting like those high school sweethearts who were bound by unwavering resentment and the accidents created in their early twenties.

The family she so desperately yearned for, then somehow against all the odds forged, is now broken, and she's fearful it's irreparably so. With no one else to blame but herself she can do no more than to wallow in her self pity. However, with the kids present she only has time to do so during the hours of 10pm to 2am, before she crashes on the couch—refusing to lay in the bed without you—for a measly four hours before the nightmare starts all over again at 6am.

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You had spent that first night in the arms of your sister, crying all the tears you'd thought had already ran their course, but apparently that just wasn't the case.

"Let it all out little one."

"I'm not little." You'd grumbled through your pitiful sobs, feeling the way your sisters chest vibrated from beneath you as she laughed.

"You'll always be my little one Y/N/N..."

You scoff lightly, but betray your show of anger as you nuzzle impossibly closer to her for the much needed comfort, appreciative of the sporadic forehead kiss she bestows upon you.

Carol had tried to give the both of you space, but it was getting hard to do in their one bedroom apartment, and she honestly hurt the more she heard your sobs through the wall. With a light knock, and permission to enter granted she cracked the door open, juggling three mugs in her hand, and smiling at you.

Against their protests you'd crawled out of your sisters lap so they could cuddle; gratefully accepting the mug of chocolate goodness in return and cracking a faint smile at the intentional overload of whipped cream and marshmallows on your designated mug.

A curious silence fell in the room, your sisters head falling to her lovers shoulder while an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, the low drum of whatever late night comedy rerun that's on this early in the morning filling the room as you all sipped upon your drinks. Intrusive thoughts all flooding your mind once the surrounding silence seeped in.

"What did I do wrong?"

At the sound of your broken voice Maria was quick to settle both your mugs down on the side table, firmly grabbing your face to redirect your gaze to her as she gave you a firm glare. Having not seen you looking this small since your shared painful childhood, and just in this moment she could see herself pulling one over on the reformed assassin.