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unexpected-character · 2 months ago

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𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

Summary: Natasha finds herself sinking into the quiet storm of her own insecurities—trapped in the uncertainty of her almost-relationship. Though deeply in love, she struggles with the fear that something so good can’t last. She worries she’s temporary, that she’s not enough, that she’ll be left behind. The lack of a clear title between them—no “girlfriend,” no labels—only feeds her anxiety. Despite knowing deep down that she’s loved, the ache of not hearing it aloud, of not being certain where she stands, begins to unravel her from within… until all of it changed.

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Platonic Clint Barton.

Word count: 11615

Warnings: Emotional Insecurity & Anxiety, Mentions of Trauma (Red Room), Mild Language, Implied Nudity/Intimacy, Age Gap Relationship (33 and 23)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Author's Notes: Hey guys! Just wanted to say a huge thank you for all the love and support you’ve been giving this story—it honestly means so much to me. I’m sorry it took a little longer to post this one, but I promise it was worth the wait (yes, it got long, I know, but I couldn’t help myself). As always, feel free to drop a comment or send me a message—I absolutely love talking with you all about the story!Hope you enjoy the chapter… especially now that they’re finally, finally official!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Natasha had always believed that solitude was safety. That the quiet after a mission, the dim silence of her apartment, the untouched corner of a bed meant she was doing it right. Keeping the world at bay. But lately—no, ever since you—solitude didn’t taste like peace anymore. It tasted like absence. It tasted like something she wasn’t supposed to swallow down anymore. Because now she knew what it felt like to be held. And God, she craved it. Every cell in her body missed you when you weren’t there. It was like her skin had developed a memory, a longing—your fingers stroking through her hair, the solid weight of your arms around her, the way your voice softened when you said her name. She wasn’t built for needing people, but somehow, she needed you.

It was worse on nights like this, when the plan had been simple. Just bed. Just cuddles. You, her, and Ana—wrapped up like a secret in soft sheets and warm limbs, safe from the world. That was all she wanted. No espionage, no world-threatening disasters, no coded briefings. Just domestic silence broken by the gentle hiccup of Ana’s giggle or your breath whispering across her neck. And when it didn’t happen, when the world pried you away again with one more emergency or one more delay, something inside her clenched with a quiet, aching frustration.

She never expected this. She never expected to become this… touch-starved. Not her. Not the Black Widow, trained to endure, to resist, to suppress. But every time you left, she felt like her skin was betraying her, screaming for your touch. Her body missed you like a second heartbeat gone quiet. She found herself counting the hours, the minutes, the weight of time unbearable until she could feel your warmth pressed against her again. You didn’t just touch her skin—you calmed the war beneath it. The war that had never really stopped since she was a child.

She sleeps better now. That’s something she can’t even say aloud without her voice cracking. Before you, sleep was something she survived. A minefield of memories, of missions, of screams that were never hers but still lived in her head. The Red Room was always there—just under her eyelids. But with you… it’s different. When she lies beside you, her body folds into yours with such aching relief it almost breaks her. And on the nights when the dreams still come—because they do, not as often, but still—you never even hesitate. You just reach for her. Sometimes you wake up to the sound of her breath hitching, and you’re already there, pulling her into your arms before she can even open her eyes. Her face tucked against your chest, breathing in the scent of your perfume like it’s a tether. It makes her feel safe. Not just safe from danger—but safe from herself.

You never ask her to explain. You never demand the shape of her fear or the color of her scars. You just hold her. Stroke her hair. Whisper to her. And it’s not even always words—sometimes it’s the quiet rhythm of a song you love, hummed against her temple, the vibrations sinking into her bones. Sometimes it’s a story, one of your myths or legends you adore, soft and slow like a lullaby. You talk about Persephone’s garden, or Selene’s moonlight, or the stars that guide lost souls home. And slowly, slowly, the war in her chest dies down. She breathes. She lets go.

And sometimes—her favorite times—you say nothing at all. You just stay. Stay with her. Stay present. Stay real. Your fingers weaving through her hair, your heart steady against her back. That’s how she heals. Not in grand gestures or loud declarations—but in these quiet nights where you remind her, without ever needing to say it, that the Red Room can’t reach her anymore. That Ana is safe. That she is loved. Fully. Completely. Unconditionally.

She never thought she’d have this. Never thought she’d be someone’s comfort, someone’s world. Never thought anyone would be hers. But you are. And she’s yours. And tonight, even if you’re not here, she holds onto that. Holds onto you. Because she knows that when the door finally opens, when your shoes are kicked off at the entrance, when you finally come to her again, you’ll climb into bed and fold yourself around her like you always do. And she’ll sleep. Truly sleep. Because you exist. Because you love her. And because somehow, impossibly, she’s allowed to love you back.

The text had barely finished delivering when Natasha’s heart leapt. “Coming home soon, love. Ana picked out a little bunny she refused to let go of. We miss you.” It was nothing extraordinary, just a simple message. But for Natasha, it lit her from within. She stared at the words until the letters blurred slightly, her chest warming with something fierce and tender and almost too much to hold. She could already picture it—the jingle of keys at the door, the sound of Ana’s babbling, your voice calling softly through the apartment, and then, finally, your arms around her. Your warmth at her back, your scent in her lungs, your presence like a balm to the always-too-tight coil in her chest. And Ana, her sweet little girl, pressed between you both like a heartbeat.

That had been the plan. The only plan Natasha cared about today.

She had tidied the room three times, not because it needed it, but because she needed to stay busy. She had fluffed the pillows, pulled out the softest blankets, even changed into your favorite hoodie—the one that still faintly smelled like you. The one she never admitted she slept in whenever you were gone too long. Her whole body was ready to melt into yours. Her mind was already there, halfway between your laugh and Ana’s cheek squished against her chest. That was her safe place now. That was everything.

But then her phone rang.

And everything—everything—shifted.

She stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed her. Clint. The only person she might’ve answered for tonight. The only one who knew her long enough to still pull her back into the life she thought she was beginning to leave behind. She pressed answer, already sighing.

“Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say,” she muttered before he could even speak.

“I wouldn’t if I had a choice,” Clint’s voice replied, casual but carrying that slight edge she recognized instantly—he was serious. “I need backup at the compound. New recruits are crashing hard. They’re not listening, not responding. They need someone who scares them straight.”

“They’re not my problem,” she said flatly, her jaw already tightening. “Not tonight.”

There was a pause.

“You said you were easing back in. This is easing. I wouldn’t call if I didn’t really need you.”

And there it was—that tug, that guilt-laced thread woven into years of loyalty and battles and blood. He knew it. He used it. And she hated that it still worked. But even as the pressure behind her eyes built, her voice snapped back, sharper this time. “Clint, I haven’t seen them all day. She’s been gone since morning. I just—” her voice cracked, barely, “—I just want to hold my family. I was going to hold them and breathe, and not think about combat posture or tactical breakdowns or angry kids trying to prove they’re bulletproof.”

“I get it,” he said gently. “But this is one of those nights I can’t handle it alone.”

She wanted to scream. Throw the phone. Anything. But instead, she clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. Her free hand twisted into the hem of your hoodie, holding on like she was bracing for impact. Her silence dragged long enough that Clint said her name.

“I’ll go,” she said, bitterly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“I know.”

And with that, she ended the call and stood there, motionless, the echo of her own frustration boiling beneath her skin. Her body physically hurt from how much it had wanted to be touched. Held. She could almost feel the phantom of your arms around her already, like her body had preemptively exhaled—and now that touch wouldn’t come. Not yet.

She peeled the hoodie off like it burned her, tossing it onto the bed with a sound that wasn’t quite a sob and not quite a growl. She hadn’t felt this moody in years. This let down. It wasn’t just the cuddle. It was the hope she’d let herself build. The sacredness of such a quiet plan. The simplicity of love, denied.

She didn’t bother looking in the mirror as she tied her boots and clipped her hair back. The woman staring back would be one she barely recognized tonight. All sharp edges again. All steel and cold breath and detachment. She hated it. Hated how easily the armor still fit.

Before she left, she glanced at the phone again, almost against her will. No new texts yet. You were probably driving, Ana babbling in the backseat. The image made her eyes sting.

She typed quickly, furiously, deleting twice before finally sending:

|Me: Clint called. Going to the compound. I’m sorry. I wanted tonight so badly.

She didn’t wait for the reply. She couldn’t. If you told her it was okay, she’d hate herself more. If you told her you missed her too, she’d fall apart.

She stepped out into the night with her fists clenched in her coat pockets and a weight in her chest that made her feel like she’d left her soul back in that bed, still waiting for your aren't .

The elevator hummed with sterile efficiency, bright lights buzzing above her head as Natasha stood with her arms crossed, back pressed into the cool metal wall. Her jaw was tight, ticking faintly as she stared blankly at the floor numbers ticking upward. The ride felt slower than usual, and she hated how her foot kept bouncing with impatience. She was still thinking about the bed, about you. About Ana’s little hand probably gripping that bunny you mentioned. About the warmth she was supposed to be folded into by now. Instead, she was in a steel box, dressed for war, on her way to babysit rookies who probably couldn’t tell the difference between real fear and adrenaline.

Damn Clint.

The doors opened with a pneumatic sigh, releasing her into the training sector’s lower level—a new wing Stark had greenlit, full of sleek equipment, minimalist black panels, and eerily quiet lighting. The second she stepped out, the air changed. It was cooler here, laced with the faint scent of sterilized tech and recently dried sweat. Ahead of her, through the glass wall, she could see them—six newbies strapped into individual chairs, motionless, eyes twitching beneath closed lids. Each one connected to the simulation grid via a thin neural band wrapped at the base of the skull. A glowing interface pulsed beside each chair, tracking vital signs and neurological responses.

Great. They’re using the Divergent crap tonight.

.Natasha muttered it under her breath as she stepped into the observation deck, her tone soaked in irritation, though the flicker of reluctant admiration lingered beneath. Her eyes swept over the simulation chairs lined in two perfect rows, each rookie hooked up to the neural bands you had personally helped design. A sleek web of bio-responsive tech wound from scalp to spine, and beneath the blinking lights and soft whirring of the monitors, she could practically hear your voice in her head explaining it all—every circuit, every serum compound, every neural feedback loop.

She hated how good the tech was. Hated how brilliant you were. Because tonight, that brilliance had stolen you from her arms.

This wasn’t some off-the-shelf copy of what the Divergent factions once used. No, this was yours—your creation. A modified, perfected version of the concept. Inspired by the movie, sure, but completely reimagined under your touch. Instead of fearscapes, you built a neural simulation that generated complex, high-risk, hyperrealistic fake missions. Rescue ops. Espionage trials. Ambush recoveries. Each one designed to push recruits to their limits—not by terrifying them, but by testing them. Every scenario was tailored based on psychological profiling, combat scores, and instinctive behaviors. And unlike the fear tests, the recruits were fully aware they were inside a sim.

That was the genius of it—it wasn’t about whether they could survive. It was whether they would choose to keep going even when it felt hopeless. They knew it was fake. Their minds still reacted like it was real.

Natasha folded her arms and exhaled sharply as one of the screens flickered to show a recruit crawling through smoke and glass, her simulated arm “injured,” her path blocked by simulated debris. Natasha recognized the scenario. A building collapse, with two civilian hostages on opposite ends of the structure. One had to be sacrificed. Classic moral tension. A test of choice, not strength.

She clenched her jaw.

It was brilliant. Brutal. Effective.

And right now?

It was a colossal pain in the ass.

She should be home. Curled into your chest with Ana asleep between you, your heartbeat beneath her ear and your perfume weaving through her senses like safety incarnate. She should be buried in warmth and peace and the sacred comfort she only ever found in your touch. But instead, she was standing here, cold and tense, watching over recruits struggle inside a world you built, your fingerprints in every line of code.

A quiet pang stirred in her chest. Not jealousy. Just longing. The ache of missing you while being surrounded by pieces of you.

She glanced at the chair nearest her. The young man strapped in was shaking, sweat beading along his temple. His simulation feed showed him breaching a hostile compound, wounded and alone, with a timer ticking down until the bomb exploded. Natasha watched his eyes twitch beneath their lids, watched his hands grip the armrests like they were the last lifeline he had.

It was working. Too well.

Clint appeared beside her, arms crossed like he’d been watching her rather than the recruits.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

Natasha didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the screen, on the chaos within the simulation.

“She built this,” she said finally. “Twisted it from some dystopian crap into a full-on psychological battlefield. It’s smarter than most field ops I’ve seen.”

Clint nodded. “She’s scary when she wants to be.”

“She’s brilliant when she wants to be.”

And then softer, bitter under her breath: “And I was supposed to be holding her right now.”

Clint winced.

“And then you called.” she added, sharp.

He raised his hands defensively. “And I said I was sorry.”

She turned away from the screens, tired of watching ghosts. “Let’s just finish this. I want to go home.”

Back to you. To warmth. To your arms and the scent of that bunny Ana refused to let go of. Back to what was real. Because no matter how convincing these simulations were—no matter how much of your brilliance hummed inside every byte—nothing in this cold, tech-lit room could compare to the life you’d built with her. Nothing could replace the soft gravity of your touch.

And when this was over, she’d crawl into bed no matter the hour, pull you against her, and breathe you in like a woman resurfacing from the deep.

The minutes dragged by like hours.

Natasha leaned against the edge of the control console, arms folded, posture tense but practiced. Beside her, Clint clicked between feeds on the main monitor, pulling up different simulation views. The room was quiet aside from the soft hum of processors and the occasional groan or muttered curse from one of the strapped-in recruits. The feeds flickered and changed—different scenarios, different reactions—and most of them, Natasha had to admit, were either absurd or just plain painful to watch.

“Did he seriously just run at the sniper with a knife?” she muttered, eyes narrowing at one of the panels.

“Yup,” Clint said with a grin, leaning in. “Didn’t even try cover. Full-blown hero charge.”

“He has a grenade on his belt.”

“I think he forgot.”

Natasha dragged a hand down her face. “That’s not forgetting. That’s suicidal optimism.”

Another screen showed a recruit trying to sneak through a corridor with absolutely no spatial awareness. He knocked over a chair, then tripped on it, then somehow managed to drop his weapon in the most exaggerated, dramatic tumble Clint had ever seen. Natasha didn’t say anything—just blinked slowly, her expression blank.

Clint laughed, loud and unfiltered. “That kid’s not even fighting the mission. He’s fighting gravity.”

On the far right panel, another recruit surprised them both. She rewired a security terminal in under thirty seconds using a snapped wire and part of her earpiece mic. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“That one’s sharp,” she admitted.

Clint whistled. “That’s your girl’s tech, too. Interface adapted mid-sim. Pretty sure the sim actually improved her hacking instincts.”

“Good. Maybe someone here will make it past next month without getting themself killed.”

The next screen showed a recruit tossing his weapon to a simulated hostage and yelling, “Cover me!”

Natasha stared.

Clint choked on his laughter. “Oh my God.”

“He armed the hostage.”

“Strategic empowerment?”

Natasha shot him a dry look. “Strategic idiocy.”

They both laughed—hers short and bitter, his open and entertained. For a moment, the weight on her chest eased.

But only for a moment.

Clint glanced sideways at her when her smile faded. Her shoulders sank back into that familiar coil of silence, her expression hardening again as the recruits continued their digital trials. He studied her for a beat, then turned slightly toward her with that familiar smirk—the one he always wore when he was about to start poking the bear.

“You’re unusually grumpy tonight.”

She didn’t look at him. “Am I.”

He leaned on the console next to her, nudging her with an elbow. “C’mon. Even you usually enjoy mocking the next generation of idiots. What gives?”

Natasha sighed through her nose, eyes glued to the screen. “I had plans.”

“Oh no.” Clint gasped with mock horror. “Plans. Were they dangerous? Illegal? Food-related?”

“They were quiet,” she snapped. “They were warm. And soft. And involved zero morons giving weapons to fake hostages.”

Clint grinned. “So, cuddles?”

Her glare was pure ice. “Yes. Cuddles. That’s the mission you dragged me away from. The real one.”

Clint pressed a hand to his heart. “Heartbreaking.”

She didn’t respond, just clenched her jaw tighter.

Clint waited a second, then added with a mischievous glint, “You’re mad because you didn’t get to spoon your girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Natasha shot him a sideways glare sharp enough to cut through armor. “Say that again and I’ll throw you into the sim.”

Clint chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “You’d need a whole custom scenario. ‘The Training of Barton: How to Shut Up and Let Natasha Cuddle in Peace.’”

She turned away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. The irritation was real, yes, but even now, she could feel the edges of it softening around Clint’s usual nonsense. Still, it didn’t fix the ache—didn’t dull the image of what she could be doing. The gentle weight of Ana in her arms. Your body wrapped around her back. Your voice, soft and teasing against her neck. Her bed. Her home. You.

And here she was instead. Watching twenty-year-olds try not to shoot themselves in the foot.

Clint nudged her again. “Seriously though. You okay?”

For a while, she didn’t say anything. The screen in front of them flickered, throwing a cold blue glow across her face. A recruit stumbled through a simulated blizzard, searching for a beacon he’d never find, and Natasha’s expression was unreadable, carved from quiet tension. Her fingers tapped idly against her arm, then stilled.

“I’m trying to enjoy it,” she finally said, voice low. “Her. Us. Every second we get.”

Clint’s brow furrowed. He didn’t interrupt.

Natasha’s eyes softened a fraction, but her shoulders stayed drawn tight. “It’s been… good. Too good. So good it makes my skin crawl some nights. Not because I don’t want it—because I do. God, I do. But something in me keeps whispering that it’s not going to last.”

Her throat worked, like the words were digging themselves out against her will. “I keep getting this… this feeling. Like I’m losing her. Like she’s slipping through my fingers and I don’t even know why. Like this—whatever this is—has an expiration date and I just haven’t been told when yet.”

Clint’s voice came quieter. “She give you any reason to think that?”

Natasha shook her head. “No. That’s the worst part. She doesn’t lie to me. She holds me like she means it. Like she’s never letting go. But I can’t shake it. I wake up sometimes and I look at her and I think, this can’t be real. Life doesn’t give me this. Not for long. Not without taking it back.”

Clint exhaled slowly. “You’ve been through hell, Nat. Of course your brain doesn’t know what to do with softness.”

She looked away. Her jaw clenched hard. “It’s not just that.”

There was a beat of silence.

“She hasn’t asked,” Natasha said finally, quieter this time. “We’re not… anything. Not officially. Not girlfriends. Not friends-with-benefits. We’re just… something.”

She let the word hang, fragile and heavy.

“I think about it more than I want to admit,” she continued. “I keep wondering why she hasn’t asked. If it’s because she’s not sure. Or if it’s because she’s already decided and just doesn’t want to say it. What if she didn’t ask because she’s planning to leave? What if she’s just waiting for the right moment to end it clean?”

Clint frowned. “Do you really think she’d do that to you?”

“No.” Natasha’s answer was instant. She blinked hard, jaw still tight. “No. She wouldn’t. That’s the part that messes with my head. I know she wouldn’t. But it’s like my body doesn’t believe it. Like every scar in me is screaming that love is a trick, and safety’s just a lie waiting to collapse.”

Her voice cracked, barely.

“I hold her and I’m happy. She kisses my forehead and I want to cry because it feels so damn real. And then the voice comes in. The one that says, you don’t get forever. You don’t even get ‘official.’ You just get this borrowed time until she figures out she deserves someone better. Someone whole.”

Clint was quiet for a long moment. The sim monitors flickered in silence behind them, each recruit caught in their own temporary hell.

He shifted beside her, then leaned forward on the console with a sigh. “You wanna know what I think?”

Natasha didn’t look at him, but she didn’t tell him to shut up either. So he took that as permission.

“I think you’re scared out of your mind,” Clint said, not unkindly. “And I don’t blame you. You’ve never had anything like this before. Not really. Not where you could breathe in it. Where you could stay. Where no one was going to be dragged away or shot in the dark or pulled out of your arms while you watched helpless.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. Just a second. That soft tremble in her lashes said enough.

“But Nat,” he continued, gently now, “you’re not in the Red Room anymore. You’re not in a cage. You’re not some shadow they trained to be disposable. You’re home. You built something. With her. With your kid. You think that’s an accident? You think someone like you—someone who’s lived through fire and came out human—doesn’t deserve this?”

She clenched her jaw again. “It’s not about what I deserve.”

“No. It’s about what you’re terrified to hope for.”

Natasha looked at him then. Really looked at him. And for a moment, there was nothing but years between them—wars survived, trust earned, quiet confessions passed like thread between wounds.

“I’m not good at soft,” she said finally. “I never was.”

“No one’s asking you to be good at it,” he replied. “Just don’t run from it.”

She went quiet again, but the air between them had shifted—thick with the weight of things unspoken and the quiet, aching truth she’d been too afraid to say out loud.

“I just…” Her voice faltered, then steadied again, low and raw. “I want her to want me forever. Not just now. Not just while it’s new, or easy, or exciting. I want her to choose me. Name me. Claim me. Because this… something… it feels like everything, but I keep waiting for her to say it out loud.”

“And until she does, you’re stuck in limbo.”

She nodded, once. Slow. Painfully slow.

Clint tilted his head. “Then ask her.”

She blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “Ask her. Be brave, Romanoff. You’ve taken down gods and dictators. You think you can’t survive asking the girl you love where you stand?”

“It’s not about surviving,” she said quietly. “It’s about what it’ll feel like if I’m right.”

Clint studied her for a beat, his expression softening. “And what if you’re wrong? What if she’s just scared, too? Or waiting for you to ask because she doesn’t want to pressure you? What if she’s lying awake at night, wondering why you haven’t said anything?”

Natasha looked down at her hands. The scar across her knuckles. The place where you kissed when you thought she was asleep.

“She holds me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish,” Natasha whispered. “But I hold her like I’m already losing her.”

Clint didn’t have an answer for that. Not one he could speak, anyway.

So he reached out and gently bumped her shoulder. A wordless reassurance. A tether.

“You’re not losing her, Nat. You’re just scared.”

She gave a short, bitter laugh. “A spy afraid of love. That’s original.”

“Hey,” he smirked. “Even assassins get hearts. Yours just took a while to remember how to beat.”

She didn’t reply, but her eyes flicked to one of the monitors without really seeing it. And Clint watched her, watched the way her mouth pressed into a thin line, the way her fingers dug slightly into her arms like she was holding herself together by will alone. He knew that posture. Knew it from rooftops and bunkers and long silences between missions. It was the way Natasha braced when something inside her was louder than anything outside.

“Nat,” he said, voice quieter now, less teasing, more solid, “she’s not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t,” he admitted. “But you do. You do, and that’s what’s killing you. You know she loves you. You know she’s not lying, not playing, not keeping you around out of convenience. And that scares the hell out of you because the only thing more terrifying than losing her… is believing she might stay.”

She exhaled, sharp and shaky, and suddenly the room felt too small. Like the walls were pressing in with all the things she never let herself feel. All the quiet dreams she’d folded into the corners of her mind. All the hope she never gave herself permission to want.

“I’ve lost so much,” she murmured, eyes still fixed somewhere far beyond the monitors. “More than I ever let myself count. And now I have her. And Ana. And I keep thinking… what if this is just the calm before the storm? What if the universe is just fattening me up before it rips it all away again?”

Clint didn’t scoff. Didn’t try to joke it off. He just let her say it, let the words crack open between them like raw nerve.

“I think,” he said softly, “that maybe this time… the storm already passed. And this isn’t the before. Maybe it’s the after. Maybe you’re already standing in what’s left, and instead of ash, it gave you something to live for.”

That made her look at him. Her throat bobbed, her eyes glassy but refusing to spill. She wasn’t a crier. Not even when she wanted to be.

“I’m scared,” she said again, like it was a confession.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Then don’t,” he said gently. “Just… tell her. Tell her you want more. Tell her this in-between isn’t enough. That you want to be hers. For real. She’ll listen. She’s not like the others.”

Natasha didn’t speak, but something inside her shifted. You could almost see it—like a wall cracking, just a little. Letting the light in.Natasha didn’t speak, but something inside her shifted. You could almost see it—like a wall cracking, just a little. Letting the light in.

She exhaled slowly, almost as if the weight on her ribs had grown too heavy to carry in silence. Her voice came softer this time, stripped down, the edge dulled by something more fragile. “I never really noticed how hard it is… being a single mom. Not until I wasn’t doing it alone.”

Clint turned toward her, careful not to speak, just letting her unravel.

“I mean, I knew it’d be hard. Of course I did. Late nights, the crying, the routines, the guilt. But I thought I had it under control. I thought I was doing okay.” She paused, eyes fixed somewhere vague, like she was watching a reel of half-remembered mornings and chaotic afternoons. “And then she came in.”

Her voice thickened—not with regret, but awe.

“She didn’t just help me. She showed up. She saw me. She saw Ana. And it was like…” Her lips curved, barely, aching. “Like she’d always been meant to be there. Like Ana was waiting for her too.”

Natasha swallowed hard. “Damn it, Clint. It’s like she was made for us. Like some piece I didn’t know I was missing finally clicked into place. She’s a breeze of fresh air in a house that forgot how to breathe.”

She looked down at her lap, fingers clenching and unclenching like she was trying to hold on to something intangible. “Ana adores her. She laughs differently when she’s around. Softer. Freer. Like she feels we are safe, it's like she can see that I am better. like she already knows who her home is.”

Clint watched her, eyes warm, but said nothing. Letting her get to it.

Natasha leaned forward, elbows on her knees, voice dipping low again. “And that’s what terrifies me. Because she’s ten years younger than me. Ten years of freedom. Ten years of unburned skin. She could have anything. Anyone. And I’m just… me.”

Her jaw clenched. The words tasted bitter coming out. “What if one day she realizes she wants someone her own age? Someone without baggage? Without trauma layered under every smile?”

Clint’s lips pressed together, but he still said nothing. He knew too much now. Knew more than he was allowed to say. And even if the box was burning a hole in his pocket, even if he could already hear your nervous voice rehearsing the proposal over and over again… this moment wasn’t his to interrupt.

Natasha sat there, voice barely above a whisper now. “I don’t want Ana to lose her. I don’t want to lose her either. But I can’t stop thinking… why would she stay with me? Why not someone easier? Someone who didn’t come with a whole damn history of blood and ghosts?”

Her hands moved to cover her face for a second, as if she could scrub the vulnerability out of her pores.

Clint finally leaned back with a small sigh. “You’re asking all the wrong questions.”

Natasha peeked at him through her fingers.

“You’re thinking about why she shouldn’t love you. But have you looked at how she does? She’s not with you because of what you’re not, Nat. She’s with you because of everything you are. The fact you care this much? That’s not weakness. That’s proof.”

Natasha blinked, slowly.

“You and Ana aren’t just a chapter in her life,” Clint added, softer now. “You are her life. She made you part of her story. And she’s not walking away.”

He paused, the hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Just trust me on that, okay?”

And Natasha… didn’t argue. She didn’t fight it. Not this time.

Instead, she looked down at her hands again, and let herself feel the full weight of what she’d built. What she stood to lose. And maybe—what she’d never have to.

They kept watching the simulations as the room buzzed with artificial chaos—guns fired, teammates failed, a building in one of the fake missions collapsed because someone forgot to check structural integrity. Idiots. Clint muttered something under his breath, scribbled a note about better obstacle training, and sighed heavily as a recruit ran into his own reflection thinking it was a teammate.

Natasha didn’t even blink.

Her eyes were on the screens, but she wasn’t watching. Not really. She was somewhere far away—somewhere quiet, warm, and filled with the faint scent of your perfume. Somewhere Ana was babbling in the background, dragging books across the living room carpet, while your fingers brushed Natasha’s hair back from her temple and your lips pressed to her shoulder without needing a reason. She could almost feel the weight of you behind her, arm snug around her waist, breathing synced with hers.

Her brow was furrowed, though her body was still. She was thinking too much again. Drowning in it. All those sharp edges of self-doubt scraping against everything she wanted. Everything she had no idea how to ask for.

Clint watched her out of the corner of his eye, occasionally glancing between her and the recruits as another poor kid accidentally set off a chain reaction that ended with simulated civilian casualties. They’d laugh about it later, probably. But he couldn’t even get a smile out of her now.

Then his phone buzzed.

He checked it, and when he read the message, his face changed. Something settled behind his eyes—a flicker of amused satisfaction—and he slowly tucked the phone away like it wasn’t burning in his hand.

He leaned in, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, I’ve seen enough bad decisions to last me the rest of the week. And you—” he pointed at Natasha without looking at her. “You’re done here.”

She didn’t look away from the monitors. “What?”

“I’m kicking you out.”

She raised a brow, just a little. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yep. You’re useless like this,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms behind his head. “You’re not paying attention, you’ve been staring through the screen for the last fifteen minutes, and if I have to watch you sit there and stew in existential dread one second longer, I’m gonna throw myself into the next sim.”

She gave him a look—flat, unamused.

Clint grinned. “Go home, Nat.”

“Clint—”

He put a hand up. “Nope. No arguments. I’m the boss tonight. Go.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even like being in charge.”

“Well, tonight I do. Because it means I get to tell you to get out of here, go home, and stop being a haunted, brooding mess.”

She stared at him. He stared right back.

Then, slowly, her body shifted. Like a tired weight was finally giving up resistance.

“…Fine,” she muttered, dragging herself up from the chair.

Clint tossed her a mock salute. “Tell her hi for me.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but he caught the way her fingers twitched slightly at the mention of you. The way her spine straightened Natasha stepped into the elevator, her body moving on autopilot, but her senses already alert—trained, sharp, impossible to fool. Something was in the air. Not the kind of tension that came before a fight, not the weight of danger—this was quieter. Warmer. Thicker, almost. Like anticipation had taken shape in the oxygen itself.

She narrowed her eyes slightly.

She passed her keycard across the scanner. Beep. The familiar green light lit up, and the doors slid closed behind her. As the elevator began its descent, her fingers flexed against her thigh. Something was going on. Not a threat. No—she would’ve smelled that. But something… intentional. Delicate. And no one had said a word.

When the doors opened, her brows furrowed instinctively.

Her living room.

Soft amber light bathed the space in a gentle hush, like the entire apartment was holding its breath. No mission debris. No toys scattered from a wild Ana afternoon. Just… peace. Her eyes scanned quickly—then landed on the dining table.

Two plates. Steam rising. The scent of tomato and garlic filled the air like a memory.

Italian takeout.

Her lips parted just slightly. Her bag slid from her shoulder, hitting the floor without thought. She took a slow step in, like she was afraid the quiet might shatter if she moved too fast.

And then she felt it—before you touched her.

Your warmth behind her. That familiar hum that her body recognized before her mind could catch up. It wasn’t noise. It was presence. You.

Your arms slipped around her waist like they belonged there—like they’d always belonged there—and pulled her against you with a gentleness that made her breath catch. Her back met your chest, her hands instinctively finding yours. Her eyes closed.

You rocked her softly, slowly, swaying the way she might soothe Ana when she couldn’t sleep. “Good night,” you whispered, your lips brushing her hairline. “I missed you.”

The sound of your voice in that low, loving hush hit something deep. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, grounding herself in the reality of it—of you. Your arms. Your smell. Your heartbeat against her spine.

She wanted to ask what all this was for. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

She just stood there in the quiet, still as a statue, letting herself be held.

Letting herself believe—for this moment—that maybe this wasn’t too good to last.

Your arms tightened around her just a little, pulling her closer, your presence now not just behind her—but wrapped into her. Natasha didn’t move, didn’t speak. She simply let herself be held, her body still tense with that faint echo of disbelief, like she didn’t quite trust that something this warm could be hers.

You leaned in, soft and slow, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. It was small, nothing grand, but it made her shiver—made her heart stutter in her chest. You stayed there for a moment, your lips resting against her like they belonged there, then moved higher, burying your nose gently against the crook of her neck.

You nuzzled her, slow and affectionate, like you were breathing her in—like the scent of her skin, her warmth, the quiet strength she carried, was enough to steady your soul. Natasha let out the softest exhale, something closer to a sigh, her hand instinctively rising to rest over yours where it lay across her stomach.

Her walls didn’t fall all at once.

But they shifted.

Bit by bit, you were undoing her—not with force, but with love. Quiet, patient, steady love

.As you nuzzled into the soft curve of her neck, Natasha let out a slow breath, one hand rising to lightly curl around your wrist. Her voice came quiet—barely more than a whisper, like she didn’t want to break the spell.

“Where’s Ana…?”

You smiled against her skin, lips brushing her gently before you answered, your voice warm and full of affection.

“She was out like a light,” you murmured. “Didn’t even make it through the car ride. I tucked her into the crib—she’s sleeping like a little log, all bundled up in her blanket.”

Natasha exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound barely there but rich with relief.

You pulled back just enough to catch her eyes, brushing your knuckles along her cheek. “So tonight?” you added with a teasing smile, “You have my full, undivided attention. Every second of it.”

That earned you a look. Soft. Unreadable. But the corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly, the tiredness in her eyes replaced with something gentler.

You slid your hand into hers and guided her toward the couch. The moment she sat, you were already pouring her a glass of wine—her favorite kind, the one you always remembered.

She took it with a small nod of approval, swirling the liquid lazily in the glass before taking a sip. Her head leaned back with a quiet sound of satisfaction, the day melting off her shoulders.

Then she tugged at your wrist again, wordless and sure. You didn’t need an invitation—you curled into her side easily, letting her arm drape around you as you snuggled against her, your cheek pressing to her shoulder.

“This,” she murmured, almost like she was admitting a secret to herself. “This is what I was waiting for.”

You nestled deeper into her side, the wine glass balanced in her hand while her other arm stayed wrapped around you. The low light flickered across her face, casting soft shadows over her cheekbones, but her expression had softened into something that felt… private. Vulnerable. At ease.

Your hand slipped under her shirt—slowly, reverently—finding the warm skin just above her hip. You didn’t rush, didn’t push. You just stroked her in slow, affectionate circles with your fingertips, letting her body adjust to the intimacy not of passion, but of peace. Of being wanted like this. Of being held.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. She simply breathed out, deeper this time, the kind of breath that meant home.

You shifted slightly, brushing your lips along her jawline, feather-light kisses tracing their way upward until you found the hollow just beneath her ear. You kissed her there too, the rhythm unhurried, almost reverent.

Natasha tilted her head ever so slightly, giving you access without a word. That small surrender said more than she ever could out loud.

She took another sip of wine, her fingers tightening slightly in your hair as she leaned her temple against yours.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered finally, voice husky and low, not from seduction but from truth. “You make this feel so easy.”

You smiled into her skin, your hand continuing its slow, grounding motion against her waist. “It is easy,” you murmured, lips brushing her jaw again. “With you, it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Natasha didn’t answer, but her thumb began tracing small circles on your shoulder, mirroring the way you touched her—as if learning your rhythm in return. And in that quiet, in that warmth, the silence said everything.

You pulled back just a fraction, your fingers still lingering on her skin, and raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. “So, we’re not eating yet?” you asked, your voice laced with playful curiosity. “I mean, the Italian’s just sitting there, getting cold… but I guess I can let it slide if you’re not in the mood.”

She shifted just slightly, turning her head to catch your eyes, her gaze soft yet filled with a playful challenge. “Right now, I’m more in the mood for cuddles than anything else,” she said, her voice low and tired in the way that only came when she’d been running on fumes all day, but somehow it sounded like the most honest confession. “We can eat later.”

You couldn’t help but smile, that familiar warmth curling in your chest as you leaned in a little closer. “Oh, is that so?” you teased, your lips brushing the edge of her ear as you whispered. “And here I thought I was going to have to convince you to eat. But… if it’s cuddles you want…” You let the sentence trail off, your fingers making their slow journey back up her side, brushing the fabric of her shirt.

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips, but her face was still soft, relaxed. “Yeah, that’s right,” she murmured. “Cuddles. No distractions. Just us.”

You pretended to consider it for a second before leaning in just a little more, your lips now a breath away from her ear. “Hmm… So, you’re telling me you want me to just sit here, and you don’t want me to make sure you’re properly taken care of?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a playful fire lighting in her gaze. “What are you implying?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

A smirk spread across your lips as you held her gaze, knowing full well where you were going with this. “Oh, I don’t know,” you began slowly, your hand now slipping just a bit lower, tracing the curve of her waist. “You’ve seen how I feed Ana. I could be your personal chef too, you know. Maybe you’d like that? I could feed you, just like I do with her. Spoon you some pasta, maybe?”

She let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking her head at you as she tried to suppress a smile. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, but her eyes softened, clearly entertained by the thought.

“Oh, I could make it happen,” you said, completely unphased by her teasing. “I’d even cut your food into little pieces and feed it to you bite by bite. Keep your hands free for… cuddling,” you added with a wink, your finger tapping her chin gently.

She rolled her eyes again, but this time she wasn’t able to keep the grin from breaking through. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You grinned back, leaning in to brush your lips over hers, just a light kiss, but one that lingered for a moment longer than usual. “I’m just saying, if you want me to treat you like I treat Ana, I’m happy to spoil you, too.”

Natasha let out a long, drawn-out sigh of mock exasperation, but her arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as she rested her head against your chest. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice softened by the exhaustion that had been following her all day. “But, fine. Maybe you can feed me later. For now… just stay here with me.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against her hair. “Anything you want, babe,” you said softly, letting your hands find their place on her body again, just holding her as the moment wrapped around the two of you like a blanket.

The two of you stayed nestled together, your fingers tracing slow, invisible patterns over her skin—soft lines, gentle spirals that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Each touch was an unspoken expression of care, of reassurance, as if you were reminding her that, even in the stillness, you were there. The warmth between you both created a safe little world that wrapped itself around your hearts like a blanket, and for a moment, it felt as though nothing else existed.

Natasha finished her glass of wine, placing it on the coffee table with a soft clink that broke the silence, but only slightly. She sighed softly, her head still resting against your chest, feeling the rise and fall of your breath beneath her. Her body relaxed into yours, the tension of the day dissipating slowly, but there was something new in the air now—a shift that neither of you could quite pinpoint.

You paused your gentle movements, fingers hovering above her skin for a heartbeat longer than usual. The atmosphere in the room felt thicker now, a quiet anticipation hanging between you, pulling your thoughts into focus. It was time.

“Natasha…” Your voice was soft, hesitant, and she could feel the change, the weight of it pressing against her chest.

She tilted her head just slightly, her hand curling against yours as she looked up at you, eyes warm but attentive. “What is it?” Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze.

You took a deep breath, the words feeling heavier than you thought they would. “I… I need to say something important. Something that will change everything for us.”

Her heartbeat shifted slightly beneath her ribs, her hand instinctively squeezing yours as she waited, her attention sharp, her usual warrior’s demeanor softened in the quiet of the moment.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice low, laced with a vulnerability you rarely let show. “I’m afraid of doing this… afraid of what it might do to us.” You paused, looking down into her eyes as if searching for some sign, any sign, that she was ready for this, that she wouldn’t pull away. “I’m scared because I don’t know what I’ll do if you… if you run away. I don’t know how to handle it if you decide I’m pushing you too hard, or if I make you feel trapped in some way.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed, a small flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she said nothing, simply letting you continue.

“I never want to pressure you, Natasha. I never want you to feel like you’re being forced into something you’re not ready for. But this… what we have—it’s more than just something to me. It’s everything.” Your voice broke for a moment, that rawness creeping through, the emotion you’d tried to keep at bay spilling over in the quietest of ways. “I just… I’m afraid. I want this to be real. I want us to be real. But I need to know that we’re on the same page. I need to know that you want this, that you’re not just here because it’s easy or because I’ve been too blind to see your hesitation.”

You paused, biting your lip slightly as your hand found her cheek, cupping it gently. “Please, just… don’t walk away from me, not when I’m starting to believe this could be everything I’ve always wanted.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched you with those unyielding eyes, but the weight of her gaze seemed to wrap itself around your heart in a way that was both comforting and terrifying.

Then, with a deep exhale, she spoke, her voice gentle but filled with that quiet understanding. “You think I’m going to run?” she asked, her tone soft but sharp with sincerity.

You nodded slowly, unable to mask the nervousness that lingered in your chest. “I don’t know what else to think. I… I don’t know how to balance this, the fear of losing you, with the need to tell you how I feel.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips, and she leaned forward just enough to press her forehead against yours, soft and slow, as if grounding you both in the moment. “You’re not going to lose me,” she said simply, her voice a steady anchor. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

You closed your eyes, letting her words wash over you. Her hands reached up to touch your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw, and it was like the whole world stopped in that one soft connection.

“But I can’t promise things won’t change,” Natasha continued, her eyes locking onto yours with a quiet, honest gaze. “I can’t tell you I won’t be scared too. But I’m here. And that’s what matters.”

You swallowed, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little. “I just needed to hear that.”

She smiled again, a little brighter now, and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “You have me. Just don’t worry so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words were quiet, but they held an unspoken promise. And for the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your own fears begin to lift, even if just a little

The quiet that followed was heavy, but not in a burdensome way—it was the kind of silence that wrapped around the room like velvet, soft and full of meaning. You could hear the hum of the city outside, but it felt a thousand miles away. Natasha was still curled against you, her fingers absentmindedly brushing your arm, but your thoughts were no longer calm. They were storming in the most beautiful, terrifying way.

You sat up slowly, careful not to startle her, and then stood. Natasha blinked, looking up in confusion as her body instinctively followed your movement. But then you moved—slow, intentional—and lowered yourself to one knee in front of her. Her breath caught. Her lips parted. And she froze, just like that, staring down at you as if the world had slipped off its axis.

You held the ring box in your hand, but it stayed closed for now. Your eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Natasha,” you began, your voice trembling with everything you’d been holding in for too long, “I love you.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but the words never came. Her eyes were locked onto yours, wide, stunned, as you continued.

“I love all of you. The parts the world has seen. The ones they’ve judged. The ones they’ll never understand.” You took a breath, slow and shaking. “I love the fire in you, the way you stand unshaken when everything’s falling apart. I love the way you fight, not just in battle, but for people—for Ana, for me, for everyone who’s ever had the chance to be loved by you.”

Her chest rose slowly, her lips tightening as emotion began to blur her vision, but you weren’t done. Not yet.

“You’re brilliant. The smartest woman I’ve ever known. Strategic, sharp, deadly. You walk into a room and shift the balance of it without even trying. But when Ana cries, you drop everything, and you hold her like she’s your whole world. And she is, isn’t she?”

A tear slipped down Natasha’s cheek. She didn’t move to wipe it.

“I see the way she looks at you, Tasha. Like you hung the stars. But you know something else?” You swallowed, emotion clawing up your throat. “She looks at me that way too. Because you let me be part of her world. Because you let me in. And God, I don’t even know how to thank you for that.”

Her hand came up to her mouth now, covering her lips as the weight of your words hit her. Her shoulders trembled slightly, but she didn’t look away.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” you whispered. “Not just because of what you do. But who you are. When you stroke Ana’s hair while she’s falling asleep. When you cry in your sleep and bury your face in my chest and let yourself be small with me. When you don’t speak, but hum those lullabies under your breath just so your brain stays quiet. I see you, Natasha. All of you. And I still fall.”

Your hands opened the ring box slowly, revealing the simple, elegant band inside. Her eyes flicked down to it—and she audibly gasped.

“I don’t want you to be just my girlfriend,” you said, your voice now thick and raw. “That word—it doesn’t come close to what you mean to me. I want you to be my fiancée. I want to skip that middle step because it feels too small for us. I want to wake up every day knowing I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how deeply I love you.”

The silence that followed was devastating and breathtaking all at once. Natasha’s face had completely crumbled, her lips trembling, her breath shallow, her eyes spilling quiet tears. She looked at you like you were breaking her open—in the most healing, impossible way.

You held the ring toward her with a trembling hand. “Will you marry me, Natasha Romanoff?”

She didn’t speak. She just stared at you for a long moment, then slowly brought her hand to her chest, as if trying to physically hold herself together. And then she nodded. Slowly at first. Then fiercely, with a choked laugh through her tears.

“Yes,” she whispered, the word so soft you could’ve missed it.

But you didn’t.

You rose slowly, carefully, your fingers still trembling as you slipped the ring onto her finger. She looked down at it in disbelief, her hands shaking, then reached for you with sudden urgency, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you down into her, kissing you through laughter, through tears, through every wall that had ever tried to stand between you.

The kiss lingered—not rushed, not fiery, but slow and trembling, the kind that reached down into bone and stayed there. Natasha clung to you like her life depended on it, one hand buried in your hair, the other pressed against your lower back as if anchoring herself in the moment. You could feel her pulse racing beneath her skin, her breath stuttering between kisses, her body shaking not from fear, but from sheer, unfiltered emotion. It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, unraveling, but safe.

When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead rested against yours. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes still damp, and she gave a tiny, broken laugh that made your heart clench.

“I was not ready for that,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You ambushed me.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against hers. “You’re a master spy, Romanoff. If I can ambush you, then I’ve earned the right to keep you.”

She let out a shaky breath, that little upward pull of her lips returning—but softer, quieter, the kind of smile she gave only when she felt completely, painfully vulnerable. “God,” she murmured, almost to herself, “I never thought someone would want this… not for a lifetime.”

“I want you,” you said, firm and low, your hand coming to rest over her heart. “Not the legend. Not the assassin. Not the perfect mom. Just you. The woman who watches documentaries about space at three in the morning. The woman who cries when she thinks no one can hear. The one who hums lullabies she doesn’t remember learning. That’s who I want to grow old with.”

Her eyes opened again, blinking through tears. “I’m so scared,” she admitted, barely above a breath. “You’re so young. You could have anyone. You could still change your mind.”

You cupped her face with both hands now, firm and warm. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t imagine waking up next to anyone else. I choose you. Every single day. Even when you’re grumpy. Even when you push me away. Even when the world tries to pull you back into old ghosts. I will choose you.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and she closed her eyes again, the weight of your words washing over her like a wave she didn’t even try to fight. She leaned into your hands, into your love, as if some part of her still couldn’t believe it was real.

You kissed her again—soft, reverent—then guided her gently to sit with you on the couch. She nestled into your side, her legs tangled with yours, her hand clutching yours tightly as if afraid you might vanish if she let go.

“I don’t know how to be a fiancée,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, more contemplative than unsure.

“That’s okay,” you said, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know either. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against your shoulder. “I’m going to mess up.”

“So will I.”

“You’ll get tired of me.”

“I won’t.”

She looked up at you, her expression so open it nearly broke you. “Promise?”

You kissed her gently, pressing your lips to the corner of her mouth like a vow. “I promise. Every day. Every night. Every breath. You and Ana… you’re my home, Natasha. There’s no version of my future without you in it.”

Her chest rose and fell in a deep, shaking breath, and finally… finally… she relaxed. Completely. The last pieces of armor she had left seemed to fall quietly to the floor, leaving behind only Natasha—raw, trembling, loved.

She leaned her head back against your shoulder, lifting her hand to admire the ring through glistening eyes. A soft, wistful smile tugged at her lips.

“Damn it,” she whispered. “I never thought I’d get this.”

You held her tighter. “You deserve more than this. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Outside, the city went on—unaware, uncaring—but inside this tiny apartment, two broken souls had found each other in the rubble, and built something beautiful from it.

The silence between you stretched again, not heavy this time, but shimmering—thick with meaning, with emotion neither of you had words for yet. Natasha’s head rested on your shoulder, her hand still delicately gripping yours, her thumb tracing lazy lines over your knuckles. The ring on her finger caught the light—a soft gleam of diamond and sapphire—and her breath hitched when she looked at it again, as if it reminded her that this was real. That she hadn’t just dreamed it.

She pulled away just enough to look at you fully.

And then, with her voice trembling, she whispered, “I love you.”

You blinked, stunned for a second—not because you didn’t know, not because you hadn’t felt it in every gesture, every stolen glance, every sigh against your chest at night—but because hearing it out loud from her, this woman carved from shadow and survival, was something else entirely.

“I love you,” she said again, firmer now, like she needed you to believe it. Her eyes shimmered, green glass pooling over with tears. “Not in some fragile, half-hearted way. I love you with every part of me I never thought could still feel. With every part that forgot how to be soft.”

Your lips parted, the lump rising in your throat cutting off your breath, your thoughts, everything.

She reached for your face, her palm brushing against your cheek, her thumb catching the tear that had just started to fall. “You broke through walls I forgot I even had up,” she continued, her voice trembling. “You made me feel safe without asking me to be small. You loved Ana without asking anything in return. You let me be me—not Black Widow, not some haunted mess of a woman… just Natasha. And I never thought anyone would love her.”

Tears ran freely down your cheeks now, your vision blurring, your body shaking. She kept wiping them away with trembling fingers, but it didn’t matter—you were crying, both of you were, in this fragile, raw, unguarded moment that neither of you could’ve prepared for, but both of you desperately needed.

“I was afraid,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Terrified. That this wouldn’t last. That you’d wake up one day and realize I’m too heavy, too broken. That someone younger, softer, less… haunted would come along and you’d go.”

“I would never,” you managed to say, voice cracking.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against yours, noses brushing. “I know. But it still scares me. Because you matter that much.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, breathing each other in, tears mingling quietly between kisses that weren’t about passion, but presence. Kisses that said I’m here. I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.

You reached for the small velvet box that had been resting on the couch and opened it again, your own ring sitting there—simple, elegant, with delicate green peridots set into the band like stardust. Natasha gently took it from the box with shaking hands and slid it onto your finger, her own breath faltering as she did.

You smiled through tears, and then it was your turn. You picked up hers—the one you’d chosen so carefully—the central diamond catching the warm glow of the apartment lights, flanked by the two deep sapphires. A past. A future. And a present that gleamed like a promise.

Your fingers trembled as you slid it onto hers, and she watched every motion with eyes full of awe, reverence, disbelief.

“It’s really happening,” she murmured, as if saying it would anchor it into reality.

You looked at her through watery eyes, heart bursting at the seams. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It is.”

And then she leaned forward, slow and deliberate, and kissed you—deep and slow and forever. The world had fallen away. The only thing that existed now was the soft hush of your apartment, the glow of warm lamplight casting gentle shadows on the walls, and the steady rhythm of Natasha’s breath against your chest. Her weight on you was grounding, like gravity had chosen to settle in the shape of her body. Her legs tangled lazily with yours, her cheek resting just above your heart, and her fingers—those calloused, deadly, impossibly gentle fingers—were laced with yours.

She lifted your joined hands slowly, letting them hover just above her face as she looked at them. The rings caught the low light and shimmered, side by side, like matching vows made metal. Her eyes softened as she stared at them—your delicate band of peridots nestled in gold, and her ring, bold and graceful with its diamond and twin sapphires.

“I still can’t believe it,” she whispered, voice thick with wonder. “They look… real. Like this actually happened.”

You smiled and kissed the top of her head, your fingers squeezing hers. “It did.”

She studied your ring a moment longer, brows drawing together in curiosity. “Why peridots?” she asked, tilting her head just enough to look up at you. “I mean… it’s beautiful. But I wanna know what you were thinking.”

You hesitated, just a second, brushing your thumb across her knuckles before answering. “Because they remind me of your eyes. Not just the color… the way they glow when you’re calm. When you’re watching Ana sleep. When you’re at peace. There’s this light in you, Nat… something soft and green and alive, even after everything. I wanted it close to me.”

She went quiet, lips parting just slightly. Her eyes fluttered closed for a beat, and when they opened again they were glistening.

“And Ana’s eyes too,” you added gently, pressing a kiss to her temple. “When I see the ring, I see both of you.”

Natasha didn’t speak for a moment, and you felt her body press closer, her hand gripping yours like it hurt to let go. Her throat bobbed with emotion as she stared at your ring again. “You’re a sap,” she murmured, her voice cracking just a little.

You smiled. “Yeah. But only for you.”

She laughed softly, and then turned her gaze toward her own ring, letting her thumb trace the edge of the diamond, then the sapphires flanking it. “Okay, in mine. Why sapphires?”

You shifted just enough to look down at her, your voice quieter now. “Because sapphires are about truth. Loyalty. Protection. They’re ancient—some of the oldest stones on Earth. They’re strong. Fierce. Just like you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. “So I’m carrying a gemstone legacy on my hand now?”

You leaned in, your nose brushing her hair as you chuckled. “Exactly.”

She looked back at the ring, still stunned, still somehow disbelieving. Then, with a crooked smile and a shake of her head, she muttered, “Why am I so sure I’m carrying a fortune on my finger?”

“Because you are,” you said without hesitation, your voice suddenly quieter, more reverent. “But not just in gems.”

Her smile faltered, lips trembling, and she buried her face against your chest again.

And in that moment—wrapped up together, rings gleaming, bodies intertwined and hearts unguarded—there was no past. No mission. No Red Room. No fear.

Eventually, the pull to move became too gentle to ignore. Not rushed, not urgent—just the quiet desire to be even closer. You both rose from the couch hand in hand, still wrapped in the softest silence, and made your way to the bedroom, the food already forgotten on the table. There were no words exchanged, no need. Just the unspoken rhythm between two hearts that had finally said what they’d been holding in for so long.

The shower was slow and warm, steam curling around your bodies like a cocoon. Fingers traced over skin not with hunger, but with reverence—soapy touches turning to quiet caresses, washing away the weight of everything that had come before. Water dripped from her hair as she leaned her forehead to yours, smiling in that quiet, content way she only ever did with you. You ran your hands down her back, held her close, and she just let herself be held.

When you emerged, you were both damp and glowing, wrapped in soft towels and softer smiles. Natasha pulled you into bed without hesitation, her arms instinctively curling around your waist, your legs tangled up beneath the sheets as if they’d always belonged that way.

She rested her head on your shoulder, one hand on your stomach, and you traced slow, loving circles on her spine. The only sound was the soft whirr of the fan above, and your breaths syncing into a shared lullaby. Her fingers found yours again under the blanket, twisting together, rings catching the moonlight that spilled faintly through the window.

There were no more confessions needed. No more questions. Just the weight of her against you, the smell of her damp hair, the solid truth of the rings on your fingers and the unspoken vow between your hearts.

And in that quiet, sacred stillness—wrapped in warmth, love, and the life you were building together—you both finally rested.

Not as a spy and her secret.

Not as a single mother and a girl who wandered in.

But as fiancées.

As home

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unexpected-character · 2 months ago

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‘PLEASURE.’ (Jules Millin x Intersex!Reader)

Warning(s): Hurt/Comfort, Coping, GN Reader, (breasts & peen mentioned but not really interacted with) Top!Reader, Alcohol consumption, tears shed, reader gets walked in on, dubcon, (alc involved) fingering, reader is a rebound. Requested Fic

You tore your mask and gown off with a smirk after another successful transplant surgery. You glanced up to the gallery and your smirk instantly dropped, your eyebrows scrunched as you headed to the sinks to scrub out. Your eyes locked on an anxious looking Millin who looked a moment from hurling herself off a building.

It had been a while since you last spent time with her. She had found what was apparently the girl of her dreams and had had tunnel vision ever since. Something you respected. You fell back and focused on your work. But when you looked at her now you knew something was terribly wrong.

You exited the scrub room and made your way to the Attendings’ Lounge. Your shift ending soon. You decided to take the moment to undress and wind down. You were in the middle of changing. Your scrub top was in your work bag waiting to be taken to your apartment to wash and you were buttoning up your jeans – only wearing your black bra – when Jules slipped quietly inside the room, eyes red and puffy. She paced back and forth for a moment.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You asked your voice soft with concern in that way that made the mahogany-haired woman’s stomach churn and heart warm.

She stopped pacing, her eyes trailed from your socks to your abs and further up to your face. She seemed stuck in time, a tear slipping down her cheek that made you drop the black long-sleeve you were about to don and pull her towards you by her arms. Your thumbs swiping the tears from her cheeks, a pit sinking into your gut. You questioned more insistently, “What’s wrong Jules?”

She attempted to pull away from your touch but you refused to let her.You cupped her cheeks attempting to draw her stormy brown eyes to your own – she refused to yield. “Hey, don’t do that. You came to me for a reason. Talk to me. I want to help,” You whispered patiently, tenderly.

Jules didn’t want that right now. She shoved your chest harshly making you stumble backwards nearly falling over an end table. Your lips parted in shock.

“Jules.” You mumble and she wiped her tears with her palms. A deep breath and more silence…Your jeans sagged on your hips as you waited.

“Just… don’t.”

You nodded slowly. She still couldn’t meet your gaze.

“She left.” Jules spat through gritted teeth like she was in physical pain and your expression instantly slacked from confusion as the realization dawned on you.

“Wait… Yasuda sh–”

Jules runs her fingers through her hair as more tears breach her stormy irises that still refused to meet yours.

“Fuck.” You mumbled knowing the brunette well enough to know if you dared showed an ounce of pity she would run and never look back.

“Yeah.”

The door to the attendings’ lounge swung open in that moment and you grunted as Millin shrunk in on herself. You brushed past her and glared at Dr. Ndugu, pushed a hand against his chest, and forced him out of the room as he protested.

You walked back to your locker and pulled your long-sleeve over your head before wrapping your jacket around Jules’ shoulders. You snatched your bag up and pulled your shoes onto your feet, then you wrapped a strong arm around her waist and guided her out of the lounge. Her head hung, her footsteps unsteady.

You bypassed families and coworkers alike not even chancing a greeting as you guided her out of the hospital and into your old F-150. You opened the passenger door and practically lifted her into the truck, tugged the seatbelt over her trembling frame and shut the door. You climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot carefully.

Five minutes into the drive she began sniffling. Five minutes after that the silence of the road was replaced by the sound of her heavy sobs. Your jaw has set by the time you pull up to your apartment. You shut off the engine and slouched into your seat. Gazing at her as she sobbed and after a while you opened your arms offering a shoulder.

She glanced at you teary-eyed and sniffling to keep her nose from running. The sleeve of your jacket over her mouth to muffle the sobs that tore through her and you draped your arm over her shoulders. She scoots into you leaning towards you sliding across the bench seat until her head is resting on top of your thigh her tears seeped through the denim as you rubbed her shoulder and back soothingly.

“Let it out.” You whispered.

She sobbed harder burying her face into the denim of your jeans as you moved to pull the elastic from her hair and stroke your fingers through it. “I’ve got you.”

“She left me!” She cried out.

“I know. I know.”

An hour later the sobbing seemed to recede and Jule’s phone was blowing up with texts from her friends wondering where she was. You watched as she held down the power button and turned her phone off.

“Let’s go inside. I’ll heat you up some leftovers and we’ll watch a horror movie.”

Jules rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I don’t need coddling, I need something hard.”

You smirked at the unintentional innuendo.

Her face scrunched in disgust and she smacked your chest. “Not! Like that!”

She groaned. You laughed warmly. “Ouch.”

“Don’t be a baby. I just meant Tequila.”

You nodded as you climbed out of the truck and she followed, wiping her face with the sleeve of your jacket. Her nose, eyes, and cheeks rosy. “I don’t keep that shit in my house, it tastes like cayenne pepper and bad decisions.” You shiver at the memories as Jules groans loudly and drags her feet.

“I have whiskey though.” You informed as you walk up the steps and open the door to your apartment building.

“That’ll do, I guess.”

You nodded as you walked up the flight of stairs with the brunette in tow. You finally reached your apartment and unlocked the door. You dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, setting them on the rack. Calmly, you made your way to the cupboard reaching up to the top shelf. You pulled down the large three-quarters full bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

Jules sighed and leaned against your kitchen island shoes having tracked in mud but you’re too focused to care. You opened the bottle and poured two glasses to which Millin snatched them both and downed the sickly sweet liquid inside. You gaped in shock and chuckled as she grimaced and wiped her lips. You poured more into the glasses and snatched the second one before she could get her hands on it. You took a breath in and clinked your glass against hers. You tapped the glass on the counter and breathed out, tossed it back with her and inhaled slowly– shivering in disgust.

Jules smirked. “Pussy.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to the fridge to pull out the leftover fried chicken and homemade mac and cheese.

“How do you find time to cook?” The brunette asked as she poured herself another glass.

“Day off.” You mumbled with a smirk as you pressed the buttons on the microwave to heat the food and moved to the fridge to grab a Powerade.

You slid the bottle of blue electrolytes to her. “Electrolytes with your liquor?”

Jules rolled her eyes and twisted the cap open begrudgingly taking a sip. You nodded approvingly and headed to your bedroom to get undressed. You sighed as you tugged your shirt over your head and unbuttoned your jeans letting them fall, still stained with the brunette’s tears.

You stood confidently in your boxer-briefs and bra taking a breath and a moment to yourself. You were shedding your boxers and pulling up a pair of thin pajama pants when Jules walked in with her thumb pointing to the kitchen her eyes instantly falling on your limp dick.

You cursed and turned your back on instinct.

Her spluttering halted as she tilted her head and smirked at the ink scribbled across the lower part of your spine, “Is that a tattoo?”

You hurriedly pulled the pajama pants up and tied them securely. “What did you need?”

You asked ignoring the heat in your cheeks and ears.

“What does it say?” She asks referring to the tattoo on the back of your thigh just below the curve of your glute.

You groaned and brushed past her hearing the microwave beep. “Your dinner is done.”

You tried to brush her off but she didn’t let you. She followed you into the kitchen and poured herself another glass as you grabbed her a fork and slid the tupperware to her.

“I won’t eat until you tell me what it says. I will starve myself, I swear.”

You roll her eyes at her tipsy dramatics. “Fine. It says ‘Pleasure Over Matter.’”

Jules snorts before keeling over laughing and you smirk embarrassed but glad to see her smiling. You just watch her with a soft look in your eyes. “Now eat your food. You know you want it.”

“You are so… full of yourself, my god!” She cackled.

You rolled your eyes and picked up the fork, stabbing some elbow noodles and held it to her lips. “Eat.”

She takes a bite and moans softly before taking the fork and digging in. “Am i drunk already or are you a good cook?”

You smirk. “Both.”

You watched her eat and poured yourself another glass of whiskey and downed it in one go. You stuck your tongue out and made a noise of distaste. Jules eats slowly but surely and taps her glass for you to top her off. You do. She downed it, took a pointed sip of Powerade and went back to eating as you screwed the cap on the bottle and placed it in your freezer to the brunette’s disappointment.

“Come on.” You mutter and guide her to your living room as she eats. You turn on the tv and let her pick a horror movie as you sink into the cushion of your couch beside her. She settles on Scream, one of her favorites.

You sit through most of the movie together. She finishes eating and sips at the Powerade you gave her and she turns to look at you. “How are things with you and Dr. Shepherd?”

You press your lips together and turn away from the gorey movie to hold her gaze. “Uh… nonexistent. I don’t accept that type of betrayal as something to move past.”

Jules nodded slowly. “So you two are over? Like for good? How can you walk away that easily?”

You snorted. “You just walk away and don’t look back.”

Jules nodded slowly again. The alcohol made her slow to process. “Is it that easy?”

You scan her face and realize hastily she’s conflating her situation with Yasuda to your’s. “Hey, she’s a fool for leaving you. Don’t get me wrong, grief makes people do stupid things they wouldn’t necessarily do… but.. You didn’t betray her. You did nothing wrong. She simply walked away. And that might be what she needed… that doesn’t reflect on you, Jules. That reflects on her. You deserve all the love in the world. Someone who will see it through with you. Not that half-in half-out bullshit you usually settle for. She’s going through a lot and she made the choice to deal with that on her own and abandoned you in the process. That’s the facts of the situation. Focus on the facts, don't draw conclusions, especially ones that mess up your own self worth.”

Jules nodded her eyes tearing up again. “I just.. I feel so..”

You nod slowly. “Hurt?”

She nods and wipes at her eyes. “I thought… we could get through it together. I thought we had something. I just don’t want to think anymore. I shouldn't have ever gotten involved, I should have kept my head down.”

You sigh and pull her towards you by her ankle until her legs are across your lap and you hug her. “Don’t shame yourself. There’s no shame in… falling in love. You’re human.”

“I-I know, but…”

You shush her as she sniffles against your neck. “There is no but. You lead with your heart that was brave. Not stupid.”

Jules fell silent sniffling over the screams that echoed from your flatscreen. You held her together and kissed the top of her head and she leaned into you. She looked teary-eyed and dejected and you pouted, bringing a hand to her cheek. She leans into your touch and you clench your jaw as she gives you a certain look, her gaze darkening as she leans upwards her lips parting slightly. You rest your forehead against hers.

“Are you sure?”

She responds silently by bringing a soft hand to the back of your neck, her nails gently biting into the flesh there. You nod slowly and lean in to capture her lips. You stop just before they meet. “You won’t hate me for this?”

Jules pulls back to catch your eye. “Shut up.” She mumbled and captured your lips roughly with her own and you melted– kissing her back with a certain reservation. While she… she was rough with you because she knew you could handle it. Handle her. That’s what she wanted…to be handled. And handled well.

She bites down on your lip and straddles your lap as she forces her tongue into your mouth and you suck on it causing her to groan and pull away only to dive back in– her hands trailed over the lace of your bra and down your clenched abdomen.

You dragged your lips away from hers and along the edge of her jaw to catch your breath. You smirked and licked her pulse point sucking lightly before moving on. The brunette shrugged your jacket off her lithe frame and pulled her scrub top over her head.

You licked your lips as she cupped your cheeks before dragging your head forward so that your swollen lips grazed against the tops of her breast. You kissed the skin languidly feeling her heart pound under your lips as you reached behind her and unclasped her bra with one hand.

She chuckled as you smirked devilishly and pulled the straps down her arms until you were able to toss the constrictive garment aside. “You’re so smooth with that.”

“Practice makes perfect.” You mumbled before sucking one of her rosy pink nipples into your mouth laving your tongue over the peak as you massaged the other. She grinded down on your abs as your mouth world her eyes on your face as she pushed your hair out of your way.

You switched to her other breast as she grabbed your free hand and untied her scrub bottoms before shoving it inside. YOu moaned against her breast as you cupped her wet cunt over her panties before pushing them aside. She gasped as your fingers gently traced her clit.

You rubbed the bundle of nerves languidly trailing your fingers further until you could swipe some of the slick from her entrance up against her button. Jules' hips jerked and her head fell backwards. “Fuck. Please.”

You released her nipple–a string of your spit connecting you to her breast still. You cupped her jaw and dragged her lips back down to yours as you plunged a single finger into her entrance swirling it around. She moaned into your mouth her arms wrapped around your neck as you swirled your tongue over hers.

You nibbled her lower lip as you curled your finger. She pulled away with a whine– her clit dragging over the heel of your palm. You knew what she wanted before she even asked plunging a second finger inside her tight, wet heat. She groaned and let her forehead rest against your’s.

“Feel good?” You smirked as you dragged your fingers through her pussy rubbing against the textured patch just inside her entrance.

Her back arched as she whimpered and grinded her clit harder against your palm. She rolled her hips perfectly to ride your long fingers that reached deeper than anyone else ever could including herself. Her breath fanned against your face and smelled of pure whiskey–how intoxicating. She nodded mindlessly and you chuckled hotly.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck. Yes!” She cried as you scissored your fingers inside her.

You groaned as she tightened around your fingers, more wetness gushing into your palm. You fucked your fingers into her faster in response. You made sure to hook your fingers on every pull to drag against that spot that made her walls clench tighter every time. That spot that made her hold on your wrist tighten and that airy moan spew from her lips. Her face scrunched in pleasure.

“Right there?” You inquired though you knew the answer before she frantically nodded her head in desperation.

You smirked and scissored your fingers inside her. Feeling her walls tighten and her cunt gush in response. The brunette ground her clit against your palm letting out a growled mewl.

“There you go, take what you need.” You whispered and sucked her pink nipple back into your mouth as she rode your fingers frantically.

Jules whined and bounced on your fingers insistently canting her hips forward to rub her clit against your palm over and over. That's when you brought your other hand down and swiped at the bundle of nerves hastily, your fingers slipping on the sheer amount of slick.

You arched your hips up unconsciously seeking attention but remained focused as Jules' breath stuttered. The smell of whiskey filling your senses as she cupped your cheeks and brought your lips to hers her eyes rolling back as her back arched–-with a gush and a breathless whine she came hard all over your hands. Her eyes rolled back and her breath caught as you rubbed her clit and g-spot simultaneously as her walls seized.

The sounds spilling from her lips tasted of pure heaven on your tongue as you pulled away to gaze at her pleasure-overcome features. Her eyebrows drawn together her lips open her jaw tight. Her hips canted wildly chasing the euphoria you helped her achieve until it all came crashing down.

The brunette slackened in your arms. Her breath fanning against your neck, her mahogany tresses tickling your jaw and shoulder as you wiped her slick on her thigh before pulling your hand out of her pants and wrapping her in your arms holding her close. Silence befell the room, the credits of the movie playing in the background as she caught her breath.

Jules shuddered as she was hit with aftershock after aftershock. Her eyes welled up again as the euphoria faded and her reality came crashing back down on her. You heard her sniffle and instantly tightened your arms around her.

You held your breath as she began to sob into your neck. You kissed her shoulder as she cried well into the night, and you fell asleep with her curled up in your arms.

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unexpected-character · 2 months ago

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I am so frustrated with Shonda and hinting a possible Jules and Winston bc wtf eeeew. She gotta run from that guy! He’s becoming the next Hunt or Link and god they’re so annoying wtf🙃

#jules millin #greys anatomy #greys fanfic

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unexpected-character · 2 months ago

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I am not admitting to having a baby fever bc of this, nuh uh😶

𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.

sumary: The last thing Natasha expected was for her one-and-Half-year-old daughter to fall head over heels for the one person on the team who didn’t like kids.

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x fem reader. Natasha Romanoff x platonic!avengers

Word count: 5075

warnings: age gap, light mommy issues if you squirm your eyes, fluffly content, Natasha being the best mom ever, light humor and jokes

　゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓂃𓈒𓏸 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᥫ᭡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ༝ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 🍼 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨♡୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᡣ𐭩 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ꩜　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧ 　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ 　　　˳ 　　⸝⸝⸝♡　　⁺　　୨୧　　　₊　　 ˚₊

Natasha had never been the type to hope for softness.

Not for herself, at least.

She’d made her peace with that years ago—on the rooftops of Budapest, in the sterile hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D., in the long silences between missions where guilt and memory left no room for sentiment. And then came Ana. Not by accident. Not by surprise. By choice. Hers. A deliberate, defiant, I want this, spoken with all the clarity of a life finally claimed.

She never regretted a moment of it. Not the injections. Not the procedures. Not the days spent alone, watching her body change, knowing no one was coming but not needing anyone to. Ana was the best thing she’d ever done. Her softness, her quiet, her stubborn spark—that was Natasha’s legacy now. Not blood. Not missions. Her. Anasthasia Irina Romanoff. She’d chosen Irina long before Ana was even born. It wasn’t a family name, or a tribute to anyone in her past—it was a hope. Irina meant peace, and that’s what Ana was. Her stillness after decades of running. Her soft beginning after a life of sharp edges. Natasha had spent so many years living on instinct, choosing danger over safety, solitude over softness. But Ana was different. Ana meant slow mornings. Shared breakfasts. Laughter in the middle of the day for no reason at all. She gave her the name Irina because, for the first time, Natasha wasn’t surviving anymore. She was living. And Ana was the reason why.And maybe that’s why she was so protective of it—why she kept the world at arm’s length and Ana even closer. This calm, this rhythm she’d built, it was fragile in the way that mattered most. So when new variables appeared—new people, new energies—Natasha never let them close enough to shift the balance.

So she didn’t expect anything to come from your arrival.

Not in the way that mattered.

You were Tony’s daughter, and Natasha had always paid attention to the way people spoke about you—with a mixture of respect and restraint, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with someone who carried the Stark name but none of his chaos. She knew you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. when you were barely old enough to be called an adult, that you’d carved your space without leaning on legacy, and that you’d been stationed in England for the last few years—low profile, high results.

She also knew something more personal. Something quieter.

You didn’t like children.

Not in a cold, heartless way. You weren’t cruel. You were respectful—always. Natasha remembered the way you helped Lila Barton when she scraped her knee during a holiday visit, how you’d stayed still and calm while the girl sobbed against your shoulder. But the moment she calmed, you’d set her down gently and disappeared from the room like your presence had been an accident. You didn’t mock them, or treat them like they were less-than. You just… didn’t want them near. Didn’t invite them close. Natasha understood that. Some people didn’t crave the chaos, the unpredictability, the weight of something small depending on you.

That was fine.

That was expected.

Which is why she didn’t even flinch when she brought Ana to the morning briefing.

The meeting was scheduled in one of the larger lounge rooms—bright windows, low coffee tables, plenty of space for Ana to exist without needing constant wrangling. Natasha had done this dozens of times. Her daughter came with her everywhere now. She didn’t leave Ana behind unless she absolutely had to. The team had long since adapted.

You, however, were new.

She entered the room with Ana tucked against her side, one arm looped around the child’s waist with practiced ease. You were already seated—coffee in hand, face unreadable, posture casual but distant. Natasha didn’t expect more than a polite nod, maybe a glance. And that’s what she got. You didn’t tense. You didn’t retreat. You simply acknowledged her presence and turned your eyes back to the screen.

But Ana didn’t.

Ana saw you. And for the first time since Natasha could remember, her daughter paused.

Not in fear. Not in confusion. In recognition.

It started as a slow shift—her little body repositioning against Natasha’s ribs, eyes locked in your direction, curious and alert. Then the squirming began. Not impatient, not fussy—focused. Ana leaned out of her arms, little hand pointing downward.

Natasha frowned. “What’s going on, kotyonok?” she murmured, brushing her lips lightly across Ana’s hair.

“Down,” Ana whispered.

Natasha blinked.

Ana rarely asked to leave her arms during meetings. And never in unfamiliar rooms. She’d been clingy the last few days—teething, off her sleep schedule, adjusting to so many new faces around the compound again. But now, her little legs were kicking softly, hands gripping at Natasha’s shirt in earnest.

“Down,” she repeated.

Natasha hesitated—glanced at you.

You weren’t watching Ana anymore. You were watching her. Confused. Curious. But not annoyed. Not disapproving.

Natasha could read people down to the smallest twitch of a muscle, and in that moment, she read one thing clearly: you didn’t know what was happening either.

So she shifted forward and lowered Ana gently to the carpeted floor.

Ana’s sneakers touched down. She took one look back—brief, instinctive—then turned toward you like she already knew the path.

Natasha’s chest tightened.

One step. Then another.

You looked up.

There was a breath, the room shrinking around it.

Ana stopped at your knees. Her curls were mussed from her mother’s shoulder, her little fox plush dangling from one hand. She tilted her head to look at you properly. She didn’t blink.

And then she lifted both arms toward you.

“Lap.”

You froze.

Not in fear. Not rejection. Natasha saw it—something break quietly across your expression, the way your eyebrows lifted just slightly, like your own body didn’t understand how it was reacting before your brain caught up. There was no mask now. No calm Stark logic, no precise detachment. Just you—and the shock of being chosen by someone so small, so unrelenting, and so certain.

Natasha didn’t move.

She stood where she was, heart pounding quietly behind her ribs, not from fear or worry—but something more intimate. Something that reached the parts of her still holding every shattered version of family she’d ever known. She watched as you stared down at the child who had never, not once, walked into a stranger’s arms. And she waited. Because whatever happened next… would matter.

You didn’t reach for Ana immediately.

Natasha noticed the exact moment your eyes lifted—not to the child now reaching for you with unwavering certainty, but to her. And it wasn’t a question. Not quite. There was no panic in your expression, no discomfort. Just a pause. A stillness that asked without words: Is this alright?

And Natasha, who rarely let anyone past the perimeter of her trust, gave you the smallest, most intentional nod.

You moved like someone reaching into deep water—carefully, gently, aware of the weight of what you were about to hold. Your hands met Ana’s sides, small and secure, and you lifted her with practiced ease, as though this wasn’t the first time, as though her body already knew how to fold against yours. She settled into your lap like it belonged to her.

Like she had always meant to end up there.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat.

Ana laid her head lightly against your chest, little cheek pressing into the dark fabric of your jacket. One of her hands tucked the fox between your arm and her belly; the other—small, dimpled fingers—reached up to your collarbone and found your hand.

And then she started to play.

Not with toys, not with distractions. Just your hand. Your fingers. One by one she explored them, pressing her thumb into your palm, curling your pinky against her own, dragging the tips along her forehead in idle motion. Her eyes drifted half-closed, calm and curious, while you stayed perfectly still—watching her with that same look Natasha couldn’t read.

It was almost unbearable, the quiet of the moment.

The meeting had technically begun, but Natasha hadn’t registered a single word Steve said. She hadn’t even sat down. She just stood near the door, arms crossed, eyes on the impossible softness blooming in front of her.

Because that’s what it was. Impossible.

You hadn’t flinched. You hadn’t hesitated. You hadn’t done what most people did—smile politely, hand Ana back, or distract her with something shiny so they could pass her off. You were just… there. Entirely present. Letting her settle. Letting her explore. Letting her choose.

And she had chosen you.

The worst part—if she could call it that—was that Natasha wasn’t angry. She wasn’t suspicious. She wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Because looking at you now—back straight, eyes lowered, completely surrendered to the tiny storm nestled in your lap—something made sense in her chest that hadn’t before.

Ana had found something.

Or maybe, someone.

And Natasha wasn’t sure what that meant yet, or how far she would allow it to grow—but for the first time in longer than she could remember, she didn’t feel the need to pull away. She walked slowly to her seat across from you, quiet as a shadow, never breaking the spell. And when she sat down, she didn’t take her eyes off you. The briefing wrapped without fanfare.

Steve’s voice faded into background noise, Bruce gathered his notes, and the others filtered out one by one with practiced efficiency. No one commented on Ana—no one dared. Maybe because they saw the weight of the moment. Maybe because it wasn’t theirs to touch.

The room was almost too quiet now.

Ana had slipped fully into sleep, her tiny hand still curled lazily around your finger, her head rising and falling against your chest like she’d found the safest place in the universe. You hadn’t moved. Not really. Just shifted to make her more comfortable—let her sink deeper into you without hesitation, like her weight belonged there.

Natasha couldn’t look away.

You hadn’t noticed—at least, she thought you hadn’t. You never were one to fidget under attention. But there was something different about you now. Something unguarded beneath all that calm.

“I have to admit,” she said, voice low, “this wasn’t how I pictured our first real conversation going.”

You glanced at her, brow arching just a little. “And how did you picture it?”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “Not with my daughter wrapped around you like a vine.”

You leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb Ana, and gave her that expression—dry, sharp, quietly amused. “You sound jealous.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Should I be?”

You made a show of glancing down at Ana, then shrugged one shoulder—so subtle it barely moved her. “She’s got good taste.”

The laugh caught in Natasha’s throat before she could stop it. Soft, surprised. God, you were so damn composed, and yet there was something underneath that surface—a spark of something warmer, something playful. She hadn’t expected that. And she was rarely caught off guard.

“I should warn you,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “If you let her get used to that lap, you’re going to regret it.”

“I don’t regret much.”

“She’s one and a half. You’ll regret it the next time you try to drink a coffee without someone demanding half of it.”

You smiled—not a smirk, not your usual reserved grin. An actual smile. And Natasha had to look away, just for a moment, because something in her chest pulled taut at the sight.

“And here I thought you brought her to meetings as a distraction tactic,” you said.

She looked back at you with narrowed eyes, playful. “You think I’d use my daughter to throw someone off their game?”

“I think,” you said, gaze darkening just a little, “that if anyone could weaponize a toddler, it’d be you.”

Natasha laughed, this time all the way—low and warm in her chest, real in a way she didn’t usually allow to slip out. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair.

“You’re dangerous,” she muttered.

You tilted your head. “Me? You’re the trained assassin.”

“Exactly.” Her eyes dropped to the sleeping girl between you. “And you’re the one she asked for.”

The silence curled again. Not cold. Not awkward. Just thick with something unnamed.

You looked down at Ana once more, brushing a thumb lightly over her curls where they stuck up against your collar. “Don’t get used to this,” you said, not looking at Natasha. “I’m still not a fan of kids.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she replied, watching the way you softened around the edges without realizing it.Natasha didn’t argue—she didn’t have to. The proof was already wrapped around your side in cookie-stained pajamas. She just watched you go, a quiet smile tugging at her mouth, the kind that stayed long after you’d left the room.

She knew this wouldn't be a one- time thing.

A few days later, the morning unfolded differently, slower. Late morning sunlight filtered lazily into the kitchen, warm and indifferent. It fell across the countertops, gleamed off metal handles, and lit the soft chaos that was breakfast—or rather, the battle of breakfast.

Ana was seated in her high chair like a tiny queen in revolt, arms crossed firmly, lips pursed in open rebellion. The oatmeal had gone cold fifteen minutes ago. Natasha had tried coaxing, bribing, even threatening to call Bruce if she didn’t eat. Nothing worked. The spoon sat abandoned in the bowl like a white flag.

“You are so lucky you’re cute,” Natasha muttered, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Other people’s kids don’t get away with this.”

Ana remained unimpressed. She glared past Natasha’s shoulder as if expecting reinforcements.

The door creaked open behind them.

Natasha didn’t turn around right away—she was too focused on pretending she wasn’t about to lose a diplomatic war with a toddler. But she didn’t need to look. She could hear it: the shuffle of slow, dragging footsteps, the soft grunt of someone whose soul was not yet awake. Then came the familiar hiss of the espresso machine, followed by the rustling of a bakery bag.

You’d arrived.

She turned.

You looked… awful.

Delightfully awful.

Hair wild from sleep, hoodie half-zipped, mismatched socks peeking out under flannel pants. You were cradling your coffee mug like a lifeline, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth in a petulant line that said you’d only been conscious for five minutes and deeply regretted that fact.

In your other hand: a cheese croissant, still warm, still flaking. You tore off a corner and bit into it like someone performing life-saving triage.

Ana stared, Hard. So damn hard.

Not at Natasha. Not at the bowl of oatmeal she’d rejected like poison. But at you.

You took another bite, chewed, then finally glanced up—and blinked, slow and heavy.

Your gaze drifted to the high chair. To Ana’s unrelenting eyes. Then to Natasha.

“I take it we’re in the starvation phase of child rearing?”

“She’s being dramatic,” Natasha said.

Ana made a noise like a whimper and kicked her feet, You squinted at her. Then reached forward, broke off a soft piece of croissant, and held it out between your fingers.

Ana took it like it was sacred.

“Traitor,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

You made a sound between a hum and a sigh and dropped into a chair with all the weight of someone being punished by existence itself. “I’ve been up for six minutes,” you mumbled. “I haven’t even looked at another human being yet.”

Ana reached again, You fed her another bite.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “You know that’s not helping, right?”

“She was clearly starving.”

“I told you—she’s not.”

“She’s got the same face I do when I haven’t eaten,” you said, deadpan. “We understand each other.”

Natasha studied you, the way you slouched, bleary-eyed and nonverbal, croissant in one hand, coffee in the other. She looked at Ana—mirroring your expression almost perfectly, down to the pout and the silent demand for carbs.

She huffed a laugh.

“My God. You’re the same person.”

You gave her a tired glare. “Keep talking. See if I share.”

“You’re both insufferable when hungry.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “Of what? Your shared standoffish breakfast cult?”

You sipped your coffee slowly, eyes flicking to Ana and back.

“She chose me,” you said, tone flat but triumphant. “I don’t make the rules.”

Ana squeaked with joy, flailing her hands toward the croissant again.

“She betrayed me,” Natasha replied, pointing to the untouched oatmeal. “I gave her life. You gave her cheese.”

You shrugged, already handing Ana another piece. “She’s got good taste.”

Natasha shook her head, lips twitching as she turned away to clean up the bowl of oatmeal. “You’re both ridiculous.”

You yawned, eyes half-lidded as Ana leaned her head dramatically on the edge of the tray, already chewing the last bite like it was a reward for surviving the morning. You were still half-asleep, leaning into your chair like gravity was trying to reclaim you, clinging to that coffee as if it were the only thing standing between you and the grave. You were cranky, antisocial before noon, and notoriously stubborn about food—especially when it was yours.

Which is why Natasha watched with mild astonishment as you rolled your eyes in a perfectly theatrical arc, sighed like a martyr, and wordlessly handed the rest of your croissant to Ana.

She squeaked with joy and took it like treasure, immediately stuffing the larger half into her mouth with both hands.

“Unbelievable,” Natasha muttered, not even bothering to hide her smile.

You ignored her, sipping your coffee in silence like you regretted every decision that had led to this exact moment. Your eyes were dark and tired, but there was no real irritation behind them. Just that quiet resignation you always wore when you knew you were losing a battle you never meant to fight in the first place.

You took another sip, then looked at her across the kitchen—eyes still half-lidded, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Give me the oatmeal.”

Natasha blinked. “What?”

You gestured vaguely toward the abandoned bowl. “She doesn’t want it. And I’m starving.”

A beat of silence stretched between you.

Then, without a word, Natasha reached for the bowl and walked it over, setting it in front of you with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t meet her gaze. You just set your coffee aside and picked up the spoon like someone about to make peace with their fate.

Ana was already chewing noisily beside you, bits of pastry stuck to her cheek.

Natasha crossed her arms, leaning against the counter again. “So let me get this straight,” she said, lips twitching. “You won’t share food with me, but she gets the last of your croissant and your breakfast?”

“She didn’t ask for it,” you said without looking up. “She demanded it with her eyes.”

“Right. So toddler mind control. That’s the explanation we’re going with.”

“She’s persuasive.”

“She’s one and a half.”

You glanced up then, finally, spoon midair. Your expression was blank, deadpan, and yet something in your eyes sparked with mischief.

“So am I,” you said.

And Natasha felt it—that little flicker again. The warmth that was growing far too easily in the quiet spaces between these moments. It settled somewhere under her ribs, soft and persistent.

You looked back down and took a bite of the oatmeal without flinching.

Ana, satisfied and full of croissant, leaned against the side of your arm and let out a sigh so deep it could only have come from the depths of her soul.

Natasha didn’t say anything else.

She just stood there, watching the two of you—both stubborn, both sleepy, both impossible—and thought, this isn’t going to stay simple, is it?

But she didn’t say that either.

She just smiled.And watched you keep pretending like you weren’t already halfway hers.Days passed like that—quiet, unspoken things folding themselves into the rhythm of the compound. You didn’t come looking for Ana, but she kept finding you anyway. And Natasha… well, she kept watching. Kept noticing the way your edges softened more each time.

Then came the briefing.

It had started as a simple mission briefing. Nothing classified, nothing urgent—just a routine strategy session with the new intel team that Natasha absolutely couldn’t reschedule. One hour, tops. Ana would barely notice she was gone.

She was so wrong.

Clint had been her first call. Obvious choice. He knew how to juggle five kids and a mission report without blinking. But the moment Natasha handed Ana over, the girl went stiff in his arms like a statue, then started wailing as if he’d personally betrayed her.

Wanda tried next. Ana let her hold her for a full five seconds before twisting away like a feral cat and screeching “NO!” in a tone that made two agents duck for cover.

Steve, bless him, had approached with his most diplomatic smile and a stuffed bear in hand, only to be met with the full force of toddler disdain. Ana didn’t scream that time—just buried her face in Natasha’s neck and growled.

And Natasha… Natasha was five minutes late to her briefing and dangerously close to losing her mind.

Which is why, when you happened to pass by—coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, clearly heading for the lab and not remotely interested in babysitting—Natasha didn’t think.

She acted.

“Ana, sweetheart?” she whispered, shifting the toddler to her hip. “Do you want to go see her?”

Ana lifted her head.

Wide green eyes blinked once. Then a slow, devilish smile curled across her face.

That was all Natasha needed.

“Catch,” she said dryly.

You turned just in time to fumble and catch the small human now squirming gleefully into your arms like she belonged there.

“Wait—what the—”

“Thanks!” Natasha called over her shoulder, already halfway down the corridor before you could protest.

Ana squealed in delight.

Natasha didn’t look back.

She made it to the meeting just in time. And to her own surprise, she didn’t spend the whole thing worried. Something about knowing Ana was with you—despite the fact you hated children (or said you did)—had her oddly at ease.

By the time she wrapped up and returned to the common floor, it had been almost ninety minutes. The hallway smelled faintly of coffee and cleaning supplies. Bruce’s voice echoed from the open lab door, calm and methodical, talking through some kind of energy recalibration.

And there you were.

One hip leaned against the table, the other supporting Ana, who looked perfectly at home in the crook of your arm.

Your hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, your shirt was half-untucked and absolutely covered in cookie crumbs. Ana’s fingers were dusted with sugar. You were talking to Bruce about vibrational decay patterns in multi-core reactors, as if the weight of a toddler on your hip was completely natural. Your other hand gestured midair, precise, animated, still clutching a small whiteboard marker.

Ana watched your mouth move as if following every word.

Then she gagged—loudly and dramatically.

Not because of anything serious. Just… toddler flair.

You paused mid-sentence, looked down, and sighed. “Rude.”

Bruce snorted. “She takes after you.”

“She has better fashion sense.”

Ana giggled, then burrowed her face into your shoulder.

Natasha stood in the doorway, unnoticed for a second longer, just… watching. The way your body shifted automatically to balance Ana’s weight. The way you wiped her mouth with the edge of your sleeve without looking. The way you didn’t rush to give her back, or seem particularly bothered by the crumbs now stuck to your pants.

She cleared her throat.

You looked up, brows raised. “Hey.”

Natasha raised one eyebrow. “So… is this your new lab assistant?”

You looked at Ana, who blinked at her mother and clung just a little tighter.

“She works for cookies,” you said. “And occasionally heckles my equations.”

Natasha bit back a smile, folding her arms. “Well, she’s my daughter.”

“She’s very opinionated,” you said dryly, adjusting her on your hip. “She gagged at my thesis. I’m considering it a peer review.”

Ana giggled again, tucking her head against your collarbone.

Natasha stared at the two of you for another second, then finally stepped forward, brushing a few crumbs off your shoulder. Her fingers lingered a little longer than they needed to.

“You’re a mess,” she murmured.

You smirked. “I could be Your mess.”

She looked at you. And the words stuck somewhere behind her teeth, She didn’t say them.

Not yet.

Instead, she stepped forward, reaching her arms out gently. “Alright, peanut,” she said softly. “Come here.”

Ana blinked up at her mother, expression unreadable for a split second… then, without protest, reached out. You transferred her easily, and the little girl immediately curled into Natasha’s hold like she’d been waiting for it all along—her thumb going straight to her mouth, her head resting against the curve of her mother’s neck.

Warm.

Quiet.

Home.

Natasha’s hand rubbed small circles against her daughter’s back, and for a second, she just breathed her in. The scent of cookies, and your cologne, and a hint of vanilla shampoo clinging to soft hair.

“She’s full of sugar and attitude,” you said, brushing a crumb off your shirt.

Natasha glanced at you over Ana’s curls. “She’s exactly where she gets it from.”

You tilted your head, already sipping the coffee you’d left to cool. “You sure about that?”

Her smile curved lazily. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Then she walked away—Ana heavy and content in her arms, safe, sleepy, and smiling like someone who had everything she wanted in one place. Natasha had gone to her apartment at the Tower —just late enough for the city to fall into a quieter rhythm, just early enough that Natasha hadn’t had time to put up her usual walls.

Ana was half-asleep on her shoulder, cheek pressed against her collarbone, and Natasha held her like she was made of something finer than glass. There was oatmeal in her hair. Cookie crumbs on her onesie. A smudge of ink on her tiny palm, and no one knew how it got there.

But Natasha had seen it.

She had seen it.

She’d walked into that lab expecting chaos—Bruce hunched over a console, a loose wire sparking somewhere, maybe you arguing with JARVIS about protocols. But instead she found you standing still in the middle of it all, with Ana on your hip and your shirt covered in evidence of breakfast bribery.

You didn’t even pause the conversation with Bruce. You just kept talking about cellular decay patterns, as if you hadn’t realized Ana was happily gnawing on a pencil and gagging every time you used the word “neurotransmitter.”

And that sound you made—that little laugh when she fake-gagged for the third time?

It rewired something in Natasha.

Now she sat at the edge of Ana’s bed, staring down at the little culprit like she’d committed an unforgivable act of treason.

“You traitor,” she whispered.

Ana, half-asleep and blissfully unaware of her crimes, blinked lazily at her mother, thumb already in her mouth.

Natasha sighed, brushing a loose curl from her daughter’s cheek.

“You did this on purpose.”

Ana made a content hum and reached for her blanket.

“Don’t play innocent now,” Natasha murmured, tucking the soft fabric under her chin. “I was fine. You hear me? I had balance. I had boundaries. I had one thing—one tiny, simple rule that I lived by.”

Ana blinked again. Unbothered.

“Don’t fall for anyone.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose, quiet and helpless.

“You were supposed to be the only love of my life, peanut. You. I planned for you. I fought for you. You were the only thing I ever let myself want.”

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ana’s hair.

“I walked into that room today and you were hers. Just—completely and shamelessly hers. You were giving her orders like a little general and she was just taking it. And smiling. She never smiles like that.”

Ana giggled softly, maybe in her sleep. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“Is this part of your long con? Huh? Were you trying to get yourself a stepmama? Because listen—if that’s your endgame, we need to have a serious strategy talk.”

Ana rolled a little, settling deeper into the mattress. Her small hand rested against her chest, and Natasha just… stared.

“She doesn’t even like kids, you know,” she continued, as if trying to justify this to someone who hadn’t been there. “She’s the one who leaves birthday parties early. She practically hisses when Clint brings his brood around. You sneeze near her with a juice box and she’s gone.”

She paused.

“But not with you.”

A slow breath pushed from Natasha’s lungs.

“She picks you up like you weigh nothing. She lets you shove half your breakfast into her mouth and doesn’t even blink. And I saw her yesterday—reading with one hand while you chewed on the other. I don’t even think she noticed.”

Ana’s breathing started to slow again, thumb slipping lazily from her mouth.

“And the worst part?” Natasha whispered. “She makes it look easy. Like maybe… maybe this whole thing isn’t a fluke. Like maybe she could actually stay.”

The confession hung in the dark like a sigh caught midair.

Natasha leaned down, resting her forehead against Ana’s tiny one.

“I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t want to see it coming. But you… You threw her right into the center of our orbit like it was nothing.”

She kissed her daughter again, voice teasing even as her chest ached.

“You couldn’t have picked someone older? Someone predictable? Someone who’s not Tony Stark’s daughter, for god’s sake?”

Ana didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Natasha ran a slow hand down her back, feeling the weight of love settle over her like a soft storm.

“You’re trouble,” she murmured. “But the best kind.”

Then she stood, brushing her fingers one last time across Ana’s cheek.

“You really couldn’t wait for me to fall first, huh?”

She flicked off the light.

Behind her, Ana slept soundly.

And Natasha stayed frozen in the doorway for just a moment longer… shaking her head to herself.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she muttered, her voice low and wry—aimed at the girl down the hall who had no idea what she’d just done.

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unexpected-character · 3 months ago

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Why can’t you give me them?! Wtf!

Will they or won’t they? 🫣

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unexpected-character · 3 months ago

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At this point the writers' refusal to accept that the fans want Teddy and Owen to break up is honestly pathological

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unexpected-character · 3 months ago

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Why is everyone so hot in The Wheel Of Time ??? Like I could literally ship a table with a curtain!! 😂

This is show is the definition of bi-panic 😎😍

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unexpected-character · 4 months ago

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unexpected-character · 5 months ago

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Help, I’ve been called out.

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unexpected-character · 5 months ago

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Katie McGrath as Elsa in King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

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unexpected-character · 5 months ago

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"she killed people!" so? that's my baby girl

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unexpected-character · 5 months ago

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It was accurate when they needed to touch grass after that😅

I’m not sure if your requests are open but uhmmm, can I request for a Lena Luthor x Reader where they are both CEO but reader is from Gotham (kinda like Bruce Wayne but with less tragedy, simply just wanna help tho they did become a vigilante). They met in a bar after some conference in Gotham (she needed all the drink especially when they snide and be ahole towards her bc of what happened with Lex) Anyway, unbesknown to Lena who the reader is until they brought her to their apartment. Lena snooped when they woke up and yk saw this and maybe partnership then become something more? Smut if you’re confortable with it? Tbh im rambling but yeah😅

-🐎

"Ms. Luthor?"

Lena looked up from her phone to see a fresh drink in front of her at the bar and arched an eyebrow at the man who had delivered it.

"Compliments of your friend at the end of the bar," he explained, nodding to his left. Lena's gaze ventured in that direction, scanning down the line of distracted conference-goers until she finally locked eyes with you.

"Oh God," the CEO muttered to herself and forced a smile. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she had the energy to navigate this encounter after the last 24 hours. The conference had been a minefield of questions and sneering comments regarding her brother and, even worse, her mother at times. Lena had forced herself to come, mostly to spare anyone else at L-Corp the treatment she was getting, but had already debated finding a redeye back to National City several times that evening.

Lena braced herself as you stood up from your barstool and started weaving your way towards her through the crowd of folks desperately trying to network with one another. You had quite a reputation amonst the high society members in Gotham, and word traveled to National City every so often regarding your most recent escapades and scandals. When you weren't busy greenlighting exposés about Gotham's most famous (and infamous) residents or breaking the latest story about the up and coming vigilante that had recently captured the media's attention, you were known to frequent many a nightclub throughout the entertainment district.

"Lena Luthor," you said, stretching out your hand as you finally reached her. "I was hoping I'd run into you this weekend."

"Is that so?" Lena responded cautiously, well aware that you were not above using this conference to gather intel for the team of ruthless journalists at your disposal. "I hate to disappoint, but I'm absolutely off the record for the next 48 hours."

"That's smart - I wouldn't trust any of the slimeballs attending this thing either," you said, ignoring the several dirty looks from the men to your left that had overheard the comment. A grin crossed your features as Lena chuckled at the remark. "I was hoping you'd accept my invitation to blow off a little steam and let me show you around a little. You are a guest in our city, after all."

Lena reached for her drink and sipped it to buy herself enough time to think of a response. Despite your reputation, she really hadn't expected you to be this forward. And although she was fairly certain your motives couldn't be that altruistic, she didn't sense the same disdain from you that she had felt from the rest of "Gotham's Finest".

"I'm not quite sure I'm up for a night on the town, Y/N. Although I do very much appreciate the offer."

"Come on, you really don't want to blow off this sausage fest?" you groaned, once again catching the attention of the conference-goers beside you. This time however, you noticed and shot a glare back at them before locking your eyes back on Lena.

"Fine," she sighed in defeat, then downed the rest of the drink you had bought her with a grimace. "Although I have a feeling you're up to something."

-------------------------------------------------------------

Lena wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the nearly deafening music, or the flashing lights at the nightclub you had brought her to, but it wasn't long before she dropped her defenses and allowed you to lead her out onto the crowded dance floor. For the first time in a long time, Lena found herself unconcerned with whether or not anyone was staring at her or whispering something about. Instead, she enjoyed the blissful anonymity the club offered and the lingering effects of the joint the two of you had shared on the ride over in your town car.

At first, the two of you traded off dancing with the endless rotation of club-goers in your vicinity. It was only after Lena left to grab another round of drinks and returned to see a rather enthusiastic young woman practically wrapping herself around you that the energy shifted. As the two of you locked eyes, you smirked and arched an eyebrow. The dark-hared CEO's gaze hardened as she weaved her way closer and closer, watching the way your hands gripped the other woman's hips and helped to guide her movements.

"Mind if I cut in?" Lena's voice was just barely audible above the music, but her expression got the message across loud and clear. Your dance partner disappeared into the crowd with a reluctant parting glance your way, but you had already fixed your eyes back onto Lena.

"Thanks," you mouthed, taking one of the drinks from her hand and gulping at least half of it down. By the time you lowered your head and swallowed the overpriced whiskey and Coke, Lena had dropped her last bit of restraint and closed the distance between you.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the night escalated quickly between the two of you and it wasn't long before you were on your way back to your apartment, struggling to keep your hands off of one another in the back of the town car that had dropped you off. As the drive finally turned down your street and began approaching your block, you used one hand to fish your keys and a few hundred dollar bills out of your pocket.

"Take tomorrow off, Jim," you said, glancing at your driver apologetically. You separated yourself from Lena's touch just long enough to place the money in the passenger seat. "Sorry for the late night."

"Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N, it was no trouble at all. Have a good rest of your evening," the man responded, knowing the two of you would likely scramble out of the back before he could get around to open the door for you. To his credit, the moment the car came to a stop you did exactly that. Jim watched until the two of you made it safely into the ritzy apartment building, then pulled away to begin his well-deserved time off.

--------------------------------------------------------------

To be honest, you had already considered the night a success by the time you were turning the key in your apartment door. Although your status and reputation with a fair amount of women in Gotham certainly gave you reasons to be confident, you had not deluded yourself into thinking Lena Luthor would fall for the same song and dance just as easily. You were just hoping to crack the first few lines of defense to see what was laying beneath that oh-so-serious exterior.

"Well, this is it," you announced, opening the door into the large condo that you had called home for the past year. Although the dwelling was by no means modest at first glance, the real main attraction was the spacious vault below the living space.

"Very...dark," Lena noted, glancing around at the lavish, dimly-lit space. "And somehow exactly what I was expecting."

"Oh, does that mean you've imagined me bringing you back to my apartment, Ms. Luthor?"

Lena's cheeks burned at the teasing accusation and she suddenly felt very, very self-conscious under your gaze. Despite the alcohol in her system, she was clear-headed enough to know that she had broken just about every rule she had set for herself before coming to Gotham yesterday. And now here she was, alone with you in your apartment, trying to ignore the subtle heat throbbing between her legs.

"No comment," the brunette responded, knowing you had probably heard that at least once a day your entire adult life. "Besides, you're the one who approached me tonight. I planned on turning in early and ordering room service at the hotel."

"I did, didn't I? Well, what can I say?" you shrugged, turning towards the hallway that led to your den. "I have a hard time not going after what I want, if you couldn't tell."

Lena followed you down the hall, fighting the burning feeling in her cheeks once again because of your words. For someone who spent a majority of her time in boardrooms verbally sparring with others, she was having a hell of a time keeping up with this conversation. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction of seeing her sputter for a response, the CEO decided to use your blunt approach right back at you.

"And what is it exactly that you want from me?"

"Oh, that's easy. I wanted to see what was behind that tough Luthor exterior that everyone else seems so threatened by. After so many years hearing the rumors and reading the headlines, I just needed to see it for myself," you said, reclining into a nearby sofa. Lena felt something twinge in her stomach as you stretched out and your shirt lifted slightly, exposing your hips. She froze for a second as her brain debated sitting beside you or following the more carnal urge she felt to climb on top, pin you down, and wipe that stupid smirk off your face.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

That was the smart-ass straw that broke the camels back that night. Lena closed the distance between the two of you faster than you were expecting, and for the first time all night she finally got the upper hand, albeit only for a brief moment. Her lips crashed against yours, needy and desperate from the tension that had been building since the two of you left the conference hotel hours earlier. You met her with equal intensity after the few seconds of shock passed and just as she settled into her spot on your lap, you made your move and flipped the two of you so that she was underneath.

"Fuck," Lena gasped as you pinned her against the sofa and hovered over her, watching her reaction to the surprise change in position. Something about the way she was looking back up at you let you know that your gut feeling had been right - Lena Luthor, despite all her prowess and reputation, had quite a submissive side.

"I always wondered what you would look like from this angle," you mused, cupping her face in one of your hands and tracing your thumb lightly across her cheek. To her credit, Lena forced herself to hold your gaze despite the way it was making her heart hammer in her chest. Testing the waters, you briefly brushed her bottom lip with her thumb and watched as her mouth opened slightly in response.

"Good girl," you encouraged her, then sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as she opened and wrapped her lips around your thumb, tongue swirling against it inside her mouth. God, she was good with her mouth.

Removing your hand, you leaned down to kiss her again, reveling in how easily her lips moved in sync with yours and the sound of her heavy breathing in the dark room. As another minute or so passed, her hips pressed up against yours in a desperate bid for pressure in the place she wanted it most. And while it wasn't usually in your nature to give into things so easily, there was something about Lena that made you feel uncharacteristically desperate to please. When she reached up to guide your hand towards the zipper on the side of her dress, you didn't bother making her say "please" before undoing it and helping her to free herself from the designer garment.

"God damn," you muttered breathlessly, eyes surveying the newly exposed porcelain skin. "Look at you."

"Your turn," she challenged, staring up at you expectantly. If you hadn't taken quite so many shots back at the club, you might have remembered to make up an excuse for keeping your shirt on to hide the recent evidence of one of your vigilante escapades. Unaware that Lena could now see the half-healed bruises that marred your torso, you shrugged your dress-shirt off and tossed it to the side. It wasn't until you noticed her eyebrows furrow in confusion that you realized your careless mistake.

"Oh, these? I started taking some self-defense classes last month and as you can see, I have a bit to learn," you explained quickly, hoping that Lena was distracted enough by your body not to question it. To your relief, she seemed to accept the explanation easily enough once you started unbuckling your belt.

"I suppose I'd probably be interested in self-defense classes too if I lived in Gotham," she replied and sat forward on the couch. Goosebumps rose across the bruised flesh on your stomach as her fingertips brushed the skin above the waistband of your underwear. "Need some help with these?"

You nodded and allowed her to slowly slide the briefs down your legs to the floor. What you were not expecting was for her to follow, positioning herself on her knees at your feet. Her hands trailed back up your legs slowly, coming to rest on your hips. You didn't know it, but Lena was practically salivating at the thought of what you would taste like and what kind of noises you might make if she leaned in and flicked her tongue between your legs. Despite how badly she wanted to see that reaction for herself, the brunette forced herself to settle with a few light kisses on your inner thigh to start with.

Even that got quite a reaction out of you, and the CEO couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her lips as your eyes fluttered shut and your jaw clenched. As she worked her way closer to your groin, she felt the muscles in your legs tighten in anticipation and savored the reaction the way she had savored you calling her a good girl earlier. Your hips rolled forward as she finally pressed her lips against your cunt and sucked your clit into her mouth.

"Fuck, Lena," you groaned, one hand coming down to brace yourself on her shoulder while the other tangled itself in her hair. Her tongue found a slow, steady rhythm as it slid back and forth across your clit and you were powerless to stop your hips from thrusting forward to meet each stroke. "Oh my God, you feel so fucking good."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the sheer fact that you had one of the most powerful women in National City down on her knees for you, but it wasn't long before you were struggling to keep your legs from buckling.

"I'm close," you panted out, bucking against her desperately as she lapped between your legs. Her pace didn't falter despite the way the string of moans that followed the admission made her ears burn. Lena's hands slipped from your hips to your ass, massaging the soft flesh and guiding your movements against her as you started to climax. Her green eyes glanced upwards to study your features as a string of nearly incoherent curse words spilled from your lips, intermixed with your ragged breathing.

Lena leaned back to rest on her heels, knees burning from kneeling on the hardwood floor, and wiped her mouth as you opened your eyes and fought to catch your breath. Despite the way your legs still quivered from the aftershocks of the orgasm she had just given you, you pulled the woman to her feet and kissed her, tasting yourself on her swollen lips.

"What do you want?" you murmured, pulling back just enough to utter the question. Lena looked hesitant for a moment, as if she knew the answer but didn't want to admit it. You waited, watching her squirm at the idea of having to vocalize her desire.

"Do you have a strap?" she asked finally, her voice low and slightly raspy from having to shout over the deafening music at the club.

"I do," you nodded, trailing a few of your fingertips up and down her side. Despite how dark the room was, you swore you saw her pupils dialate at the answer. "What exactly do you want me to do with it?"

She huffed in a mix of frustration and embarrassment, but the gnawing desire in her groin was too much to bear.

"I want you to fuck me, please," she hissed, practically dizzy to feel you inside her.

"That's all I needed to hear. I'll be right back," you relented, satisfied with her answer. Leaving her in the den, you took your time on the way to your bedroom and used it as an opportunity to fully catch your breath. The adrenaline flooding your system tonight was better than anything a night fighting crime in Gotham could compare to, and you did your best to keep your hands from shaking as you rooted through your nightstand drawers for your harness and a bottle of lube.

Well aware that Lena was perceptive enough to notice you fumbling with the straps, you saved yourself the embarrassment and elected to put the harness on in your bedroom before heading back to the den. As you rounded the corner in the hallway that led you back to her, you caught sight of the way she had already positioned herself for you on the couch and your pulse began to race again.

"You desperate little thing," you teased, admiring the way she looked on her hands and knees, back arched for you. She had also shed her underwear, allowing you to see all of her for the first time. Lena didn't turn her head back to look at you, but you noticed the muscles in her arms flexing in anticipation as you came to a stop behind her.

Lena stifled a moan as you kneeled behind her on the couch and reached around to shove a hand between her legs. She was practically dripping for you, heat radiating from the slick folds as you rubbed her clit in circles.

"Y/N," she whimpered, grinding back against your hand and feeling the tip of your strap-on poking against her entrance. Rather than beg, Lena reached back with her hand and guided the toy into herself as you watched in a mix of amusement and pure arousal. Too turned on to deny her any longer, you gently thrust into her and then paused, allowing her a moment to adjust.

Lena gasped as you entered her fully, dropping down onto her forearms and sinking her nails into the fabric of the couch.

"Oh my God," she whimpered, grinding back against you and the toy. The brunette bit into her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood to stop herself from saying anything else as you started to thrust in and out of her. She managed to contain herself at first, but as your pace quickened and each stroke felt deeper than the last, her last bit of restraint melted and her moans echoed off of the walls of the den. Eventually, her hand replaced your own between her legs and she rubbed her clit in furious circles as your hips slammed against her ass relentlessly.

"Harder," Lena choked out between sounds of pleasure. Always happy to oblige that request, you snagged a throw pillow from nearby and shoved it under her hips. The heiress hardly had time to react before you you drove her down flat against the cushions, pinning her to the couch beneath you with renewed vigor. Her free hand reached around to grasp at you, fingernails digging into the flesh on your forearm as you buried yourself into her over and over again.

"Oh my God, please don't fucking stop," she choked out, burying her face into the expensive sofa to stifle a ragged series of moans. "I-I think I'm going to come."

"You're gonna come for me, huh? I better hear my fucking name when you do, Lena," you grunted, catching her by surprise with a quick smack across her ass.

"Mmhmm," she whimpered as her orgasm continued to build. "Fuck, I can't...I can't, oh my God, Y/N."

Seconds later, the dark-haired woman was unraveling beneath you, hips bucking wildly back against your own as her walls clenched around the strap-on. As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, you waited for her grip to loosen on your arm before slowly pulling out of her and rising to your feet to free yourself from the harness.

"Goddamn," you panted, stepping out of the strap-on and setting it aside. "You are...something else, Lena Luthor."

The brunette rolled over, a bashful smile spreading across her flushed features as her chest continued to heave up and down.

"I could say the same thing about you," she replied, watching as you pushed your sweat-soaked hair back out of your eyes to see her better. As you did, she caught sight of a small tattoo on your wrist and as soon as you noticed, you felt your stomach lurch.

"What's that?" she asked, standing up off of the couch and reaching for the wrist you were now holding behind your back.

"Oh, that?" you stammered out, unable to hide the nerves in your voice. "Just a stupid little thing I got done with my roommates in college."

Lena didn't buy it for a second. She had spent almost an hour helping Kara pick through images of the Gotham vigilante for her article earlier in the week, and as a result, she knew damn well she had seen the same symbol poking out from under their sleeve in at least 4 different photos.

"Is that so? You know, I think one of your old roommates just might be the vigilante that's been running around lately. Is that why you started taking self-defense classes? Planning on joining her?"

"Fuck, fine, you caught me," you gave in, panic flooding your chest. Lena wasn't exactly the type of person you could bribe to keep a secret. "Please don't tell anyone. I'm still figuring this shit out and I just need a little time to work out the kinks-"

"Y/N, relax," Lena dismissed your concerns with a wave. "Remember what I told you earlier? Everything is off the record tonight. As long as I don't have to worry about you sharing anything about tonight, your secret is safe with me."

"Deal," you nodded eagerly.

#lena luthor x you #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor imagine #supergirl

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unexpected-character · 6 months ago

Text

Baby Whisperer

Early seasons pregnant JJ where will doesn't want the kid (no hate on will or nun) but yn takes JJ in cus they're in looove and they becaome a baby whispererer

Warnings: internalized homophobia so brief l, love Will right? But he's kinda an ass, so don't hate me saying I hate Will cus I don't love Will lamon-I need subtitles to understand him only sometimes-Tage.

A/n~ chat this has been in my drafts for months soooo I finally ended it so enjoy

Walking in, Y/n wasn't really expecting to run into a crying JJ in the garage. The woman looked absolutely destroyed and like she just needed anyone.

That's how she found herself in the parking lot of a local burger joint with the blonde. "Now...I only got us an extra hour before we have to go in....do you wanna talk about it?"

Y/n liked to approach everything carefully. It wasn't always her place, but she knew sometimes everyone wanted just someone else's company. She was honestly prepared for JJ to say that it was just a rough morning and she'd be over it in no time.

"I'm pregnant and Will left." She whispered. Trying with everything in her not to start crying again, especially when they were at her favorite burger place. "He..he said that he wasn't ready for a kid and I am. He said I could've have the kid, but if I did..."

"He'd walk..."

"I'm going to have nowhere to go. I can't afford a place on such short notice. I can't do that all and still worry about my job. I just...I can handle a lot. That's what my job is..but I-"

"Come stay with me." Y/n threw it out before she could even think it over. Her mouth just moved on it own. "I have two sore rooms. One can be yours and we'll make the other a nursery."

JJ furrowed her brows and was flushing red. "I-I couldn't ask that much of you."

"Yes you can. And you're not asking me. You would do the same if it was the other way around." Y/n took a bite of her burger. Eyes not daring to meet the blue ones that were for sure staring down her every move.

"What's in it for you though? I mean, nobody offers without anything in return." The blonde raised the question.

The short black bob shook. "I'm getting to know you and whoever you," she pointed towards her belly, "will be are safe every night. Plus, I'm kinda a baby whisperer so it'll give me the chance to get solid evidence."

A soft smile formed on the blondes lips. "And that's it? No other strings attached?"

"All you should have to worry about is taking care of yourself. I'm just here to help make it easier."

"Deal then." JJ agreed. "What if though-"

"Usually when people say deal they don't add any conditions after." Y/n had a sly smile on her face.

JJ was quick to throw her arm to wack the other's. "In return you get God parent privileges?"

Y/n was also quick, quick to shake her head. "There's nothing in it for me. That's my conditions. Plus Penelope would be on me for that title. All I truly will take is knowing you're safe."

JJ waited and watched for any sign that she could be lying. That there was some second meaning to this offer....but there wasn't. Y/n was honest in what she wanted.

"Alrighty then. I'll move in with you." JJ gave in fully.

By then end of the day, the two had everything planned out. They spent most of their time in JJ's office discussing how move in would work and how quick they wanted to get it done.

"No! You're not gonna carry everything. I may be pregnant but I'm not that type of pregnant yet." JJ folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. They had been bickering over a lot of things. Mostly because Y/n kept offering to be so nice.

The brunette shrugged, "well what if you carry the lighter boxes then? I just..I don't want you to strain yourself. Eventually, that baby is going to grow and your back will forever hurt. I'm trying to keep you free from that ache early."

"And I appreciate it, but I'm still going to do this job aren't I? I'm going to ache no matter what. You have to let me have some lee way still." JJ held her ground.

Y/n threw her hands up into surrender. "Ok. You tell me what you still want to be able to do, and I'll try my best to not helicopter around."

There was a knock at the door. It caused both woman to sit up and glance towards the piece of wood. Finding Penelope staring at the notepads on the desk. "What's this about?" She moved quick over to the papers.

She didn't get a chance to look as they both grabbed them from view. "Our marriage contract." Y/n was quick to drop. "We're writing what we won't do, it's mostly our worst habits."

"Oh...ok well Will is here to talk to you." She informed before giving one last suspicious look. "What are you two up to?"

"Thank you Penelope," Y/n hummed before looked back to the other blonde. "This is my cue to leave. Let me know what happens..."

Y/n bowed her head before leaving. Pushing Penelope away as well. They walked back towards the bullpen, passing Will on the way. Y/n couldn't help the look she gave him. JJ held him in high praise, so to think he would walk was crazy.

JJ was still holding the notepad when Will walked in. "We need to talk about this morning. I wasn't thinking but I don't think you are either." He began. "We're too young to have a baby Jayge! We shouldn't spend all that money now. Let's just wait a few more years. Get married first maybe?"

She took a deep breath in as the tears stung her eyes. "I want this baby. And if you don't, then you won't have anything to do with this baby."

"You will have nothing without me." He spat in defense. And for a moment, he swore he was right. That she wouldn't have anywhere to go. That she needed him.

"I don't need you. And especially with that tone, I will never need you. If you don't want to be a father yet, then you can leave." She shot him down almost instantly. Eyes trained to the window.

There was silence as he stood there. He huffed and rubbed his eyes. "You can't seriously be throwing away our relationship for a baby? It's still my baby."

She shook her head, "no. This is my baby. You have now openly said you don't want any child. So once again, I don't need you. We don't need you." Her voice was vicious as she bit him. Practically hearing his defeat before moving towards the door.

"You're gonna regret this. You're gonna need me." He pointed one last time.

Y/n laughed from behind him. "The only one who needs anything is you. And you need to leave." She folded her arms over her chest as the man left the building in a fit of rage.

JJ let her head drop into her hands as she started crying. Y/n was quick to close the door and draw the blinds. Giving the two perfect privacy as she came around and hugged the blonde. Letting her cry it out.

A few weeks go by, and JJ had been moved in to Y/n's place. "Ya' know, I didn't think you'd have a house."

"Really? I give apartment to you or what?" Y/n carried a few boxes up to the extra room. Training days with Morgan always seems to pay off.

JJ shrugged as she just followed behind. "I guess so. Why do you have a house? It's just you no?" The extra room was big. Bigger than what JJ had taken an extra room for. "No. It's too much."

"You already unloaded all your boxes. You're staying. And plus, I like having room to have people over, or to run around naked." Y/n winked over her shoulder. "You settle in, I'm going to cook dinner."

"And she cooks?" JJ furrowed her brows. Y/n has mentioned how she couldn't cook compared to Rossi, which JJ assumed meant she couldn't cook.

But the first night was all the evidence she needed. The host made orange chicken and it was beyond any takeout the blondes ever had. Even the rice was delicious. Too distracted by the food to even notice that Y/n left more for her than herself.

Four months had gone by and the two moved like a couple. From JJ's perspective, this was just Y/n being helpful.

Every morning she would wake to the smell of some breakfast and coffee. Trudging out, Y/n would be dancing around with her headphones on as she plated the dish of the morning. She would be in nothing but an oversized shirt.

That's how their mornings would all start. Having breakfast together.

Then they would drive to work and act just like colleagues. Minus how Y/n would always know exactly what JJ was craving and had it right when she wanted it. There they would eat lunch in the blondes office while discussing the work drama.

Y/n would leave the office by two and head back to her own desk. Working in silence as she thought of what she would be making for dinner.

"We're heading to lunch you coming?" Emily would offer by three.

"No I already ate with JJ. We had classic pb&j's." Y/n answered, reminiscing in how good they were.

Derek scoffed with a laugh, "you tryna steal the spot of baby daddy or something? Spoiling her left and right."

"Mm, I got that spot within the second month. Baby whisperer remember?" She smiled up from her papers.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Derek flicked her forehead. He moved faster so Y/n would have to actually get up and chase him.

She did get up, sending him a mean glare. "You're lucky my senses are tingling and I bet you right now, she needs something."

That's when JJ came in, "Y/n could you come help me for a sec?"

That stumped Derek, he didn't know if she was serious about the sense or if it was perfect timing. But he left with everyone else for lunch as the two headed to the file room.

JJ needed a box of old files and it was just slightly out of reach and she wasn't in the mood to try and reach for it. Her back had been killing her all day.

The box was heavy as Y/n carried it to her office. "That back still hurting?" JJ groaned, answering the question without words. "Come here, I saw this on Facebook."

JJ came closer, standing right in front of Y/n a bit confused. With a twirl of the brunettes finger, her back now faced her front. Leaving her blind to Y/n coming up behind her and her hands coming to hold her belly. Lifting it a bit and releasing the stress and tension on her back. The feeling made her practically moan and melt into Y/n.

"This is so being added into our daily routine." She hummed. JJ had closed her eyes and let her head lull back to rest on the shoulder. "Five minutes like this ok?"

Y/n chuckled, but had agreed. The two stood in the middle of the office in silence. Y/n enjoying being helpful, and JJ enjoying the weightless feeling.

It even was mentioned during dinner prep. It's what they did, JJ would sit on the backside of the couch and look at the files she brought home, while Y/n did wonders in the kitchen.

First it starts with getting drinks out. JJ had juice while Y/n had wine. Sipping on it slowly as she prepped the Thai noodles.

"So," JJ had came over from the living room. "If I told you my back was aching again?" She was given a laugh which told her she needed to do more. It's how her head ended up on Y/n's shoulder and her arms wrapped around her.

"Ya' know the roles are supposed to be revered right? I'm supposed to hold you not the other way around? And I am cooking, if you can get through dinner I will sit behind you and hold your baby ok?"

"Deal." She placed a kiss to Y/n's cheek before slipping back to the couch. Missing the blush that arose mere seconds after her lips left.

Later, JJ had been in her room lying when she thought of how much Y/n was doing. It made her heart beat a little faster than normal. Which she assumed woke the baby as he began to kick.

It kept her up and wasn't very comfortable either. She knew Y/n said anything wouldn't be a bother, but what could Y/n do about this even if she did go over to the room. It couldn't hurt she figured, maybe there was something Y/n could do.

She crept through the dark house, realizing just how quiet of a person Y/n was. The sound only being the faint tv noises coming from the bedroom. Giving the door a soft knock, JJ pushed it open more and peeked in.

From the bed, a sleepy Y/n stared over at the door. "Jayge? What's wrong? Are you ok?" She sat up and scooted over, patting the large bed next to her.

"The baby, he's awake and kicking...you said you were a baby whisperer?" She came up to the bed, crawling into the comfortable sheets where Y/n was lying. Feeling her warmth still linger.

Y/n hummed as they both got comfortable, then she slid to rest her head against the belly. Whispering out of JJ's hearing, but within minutes, he was still again.

JJ tried to pick up on the vibrations, hoping they could give any distinction on the words but it was useless. So she just let them carry her to sleep, knowing another day of work waited her.

Meanwhile Y/n was mumbling over what honey was and how it tastes in tea. Even offering to make him some in the morning instead of the coffee. Which she also apologized for assuming he would want coffee. She also mumbled about the different breakfast choices. Eventually drifting off to sleep herself.

JJ woke up first that morning, finding Y/n to be practically molded around the belly and so incredibly close to her. She could feel the extra body heat and enjoyed how it felt. She also enjoyed how Y/n's bed felt.

She realized this was the first time since moving in she was up before Y/n. Even on cases Y/n was up before her.

"My senses are tingling?" Y/n groggily spoke. "He wants the tea I told him about."

JJ felt a kick at the words. Making her question if it was witchcraft or Y/n actual was a baby whisperer. "He doesn't even know what tea is?"

"Yeah he does, I told him all about it. Just like I told him about honey. He really likes the sound of it." Y/n slipped from the bed, her hand delicately caressing the exposed skin of the belly.

The action made JJ shiver and the baby kick. "What else did you tell him about?" She let her hand fall to her stomach and began to get up with the other.

"I told him about music and what's the right type of music, also about what's the best type of fashion." Y/n rambled as she led them to the kitchen. Beginning to make the tea.

JJ frowned at the new choice. "What if I don't want tea? I like my morning coffee," she complained. Knowing that no matter what, Y/n always claimed to know what was 'gonna do it' for her, and she was usually right. "What are you putting in it?"

"It's with honey, sugar, and a dash of cinnamon. You'll love it just as much as he will. I've never steered us wrong and you can bet today won't be the day." She joked from the counter, rummaging to find the kettle that was tucked away.

When she pulled it out, JJ almost laughed audibly. "There's no way you're gonna use that?"

Y/n shot a look over her shoulder, "you seriously don't trust my ways?" She kept working with the kettle. Filling it before setting it on the stove. "He can tell you it's the right way even." The baby kicked and a new smile formed on Y/n's face.

JJ was entranced by it as the brunette came over. Crouching in front of her and whispering again to her belly. And it was the blonde who was smiling even wider. Y/n was an absolute wizard with the baby. Things just seemed to get so much easier for the both of them.

The moment made her think though. Would Y/n stick around even after the baby was born? Why wouldn't she though? Nobody's ever shown this much attention to JJ, let alone her baby. She was thriving in it and she hoped she would still get this side of Y/n.

The screeching of the kettle brought her back and she just barely processed the fingertips sliding from her sides. Had Y/n been holding her hips?

"Have you thought of any names yet?" Y/n let the question slip out as she poured the steaming water. "I know it's still early, but five months."

"Honestly? No. Usually it's something you would discuss with the other person...a unanimous agreement." She sighed as the tea was brought over. Bringing her nose down close to the mug, she smelt the steaming liquid. "This smells...amazing."

Y/n smirked, "I told you I knew what I was doing. And you do realize not every baby has two parents deciding their names. This is your bundle of joy, you name him whatever you want. Just nothing with some dumb spelling."

JJ laughed lightly at that. "I know, but...I always thought I'd be having a kid with someone who I was married to. The whole traditional family." Y/n rolled her eyes. "What?"

"I just think...traditional isn't the best for you. I mean think 'bout it...you're about to become a single mother in the FBI. Life threw you a curve ball, but you're about to knock it out of the park."

"A baseball reference really?"

"Yeah not my best moment but my point is, you should get the reward of naming him what you want. He's yours till forever." Y/n reasoned, meeting the blue oceans with a soft gaze.

The conversation got lost as they just stared in silence at one another. Y/n always looked at JJ with so much care. She's shown it enough that the blonde sometimes feels guilty for how much of Y/n's attention she holds...but she'd be upset if it was on anyone else. It was wrong, especially because they weren't dating. Not that...JJ would..it had to be the hospitality getting to her.

Y/n sighed before grabbing her mug and opening the fridge. "I'm thinking French toast with some fruit? Extra sweet? Oooh and maybe some icing." She thought out loud. Humming in delight when JJ huffed at the baby kick.

The rest of the morning was natural. They ate breakfast and chatted for a bit before going upstairs to change. That's how everyday started.

But the mornings conversation trailed around JJ all day. Even her following thoughts. Suddenly everything was being questioned by her. From Y/n to bringing lunch, to her driving them home again with her hand on the clutch.

Another night, when once again, the baby was up and kicking. It also became a regular occurrence. Soon, JJ just ended up following Y/n to her room.

"Ya' know, when I offered an extra bedroom, I didn't mean mine." Y/n joked as they were getting ready to settle down for the night.

"Five months ago was so long ago though. Plus, he likes you talking him back to sleep. You truly are a baby whisperer." The blonde tried to reach the straps on her heels, groaning when she couldn't.

It was the tiny things that Y/n noticed. Once the bed creaked, she was over and kneeling to take off the shoes. Doing it before she could even realize she was.

JJ would've described it as a domestic moment. And when the thought crossed her mind, her heart thumped in her chest.

"Yeah, I'm great." She hummed in agreement. Y/n stood back up and was looking down at JJ now. Her content smile slowly fading. "I'm always gonna be here for you, you know that right?"

The words were just that. Words. Yet, JJ felt them strike her heart and shake her spine. It had to be the hormones that moved her to tears though. "You mean it?"

A hesitant hand came up to her cheek, it was warm and soothing. "I do, I don't plan on leaving your side any time soon. I promise. I pinky promise you Jayge."

Y/n pulled her hand back and held up her pinky. Expecting the woman to just connect hers, but was greeted with a tight hug as JJ cried into her shoulder. The brunette held her head close to her while the other wrapped around her back.

That was the night that they both knew their relationship was bound to change. Both cared and needed the other.

Although, the change brought tension to the breakfast table that morning. Not bad tension, just tension. Neither one could say anything or stop looking at the other.

Y/n took it as the ultimate test as well. To see if she was truly a baby whisperer without talking to JJ. Through all the staring, Y/n had managed to decide on a breakfast.

Cooking in silence, she began to get lost in her work. Humming a sweet little tune as she swayed at the stove. Continuing her tune as she played the homemade breakfast sandwiches.

Usually in the morning, the two sit across from each other, but today Y/n nodded towards the couch. Leading over and dropping her plate before going back for drinks.

They sat thigh to thigh as they ate. The only noise was JJ's hum and her 'oof' at the aggressive baby kick. He also seemed to enjoy it.

Their silence traveled with them through the day. When they got ready, Y/n knew JJ's routine flawlessly and had anything she needed at the ready. The car ride to work? Only the radio spoke as Y/n drove their normal path. Her hand itched to leave the clutch and rest on JJ's thighs.

One thing Y/n wasn't ready for, was how cute JJ actually would look pregnant. It wasn't like she wasn't cute before, JJ's always been adorable in Y/n's eyes. But this, this was the softest looking Jennifer she had ever met.

By the time they got to the parking garage, they had a few minutes to spare. So they sat in silence and stared at each other once again. Both looking like they were trying to figure out the other. Yet, they never figured anything out as they had to go in.

Another month had gone by. Emily grabbed her bag as she was ready to leave for the day. "I'm going home and never coming back. This week has been so shitty." She groaned.

"Sounds like you need a drink," Derek smirked. He too had his bag in hand. "I'm sure Penelope and Spencer would love to come with."

"Not even gonna invite Y/n?" Emily nodded towards the still focused agent. Not leaving room for his answer as she came towards the desk. Tapping her out of her trance. "You wanna come with?"

"I'm on baby whisperer duties. JJ has been struggling to sleep since he keeps kicking around nine. I'm the one who talks him and her to sleep." She explained her situation. Not really minding that she'd miss another night out.

Derek squinted his eyes. "One, this is why I wasn't gonna invite her. Always on baby duties. And two, you're all this talk about being a baby whisperer but we've never seen it in action. JJ hasn't even confirmed this once in her six months."

"Well then let me confirm it now. Because id be absolutely exhausted without her. She explains what such simple things are and then she knows. She knows what this baby likes and wants." The blonde came out with her bag, handing it to Y/n's expecting hand. "And these? JJ sense's? It's like having a personal telepath."

Spencer rose up now, "do you really believe in telepaths though? Especially to a baby? How can you be so sure?"

"Well I can tell you right now, that for dinner we're having honey chicken biscuits on his request." Y/n's thumb rolled to point towards JJ's belly. And on cue, he kicked.

She shook her head and smiled. "Like a personal telepath. We are heading out though, I now know what's for dinner and we're both hungry."

"Baby whisperer," Y/n whispered as she wiggled her fingers before following out the blonde.

The team watched the two leave. Sharing the same thought. "They're so in love," Penelope spoke it out loud though.

Back home, the two sat and laughed over everything from the day. They never ran out of something to talk about. And they wouldn't once the baby was born.

"So, six months. Third trimester. Three months till you'll be asked for his name....any ideas?" Y/n pried from her seat. She sat criss cross to be able to look at the blonde.

JJ sighed on the topic again. "I mean a few but none that have tugged at me and stood out. What about you? Have you been thinking?"

"Mm JJ last month would've said this is a partner discussion. Why's this month asking else wise?" Y/n dug into the words. Meaning it in such a playful manner.

JJ laughed along, trying to ignore her heart beat. "Well you've done nothing but tend to me for the past six months. So you should get some say."

There was a hum in agreement. "I've thought a little bit, and all I thought of was Dakota or Henry." Y/n truthfully answered. Knowing that the decision was going to be JJ's no matter what.

"I like the sound of Henry, actually. How'd you think of it?" The blonde stood from her spot, knowing he would begin to kick again within a few minutes.

Y/n yawned, "I didn't think of it, he picked it." She so simply stated before her hands fell to JJ's back, pushing her towards the stairs. "I'm telling you, our best conversations are after you fall asleep."

"Listen, I've been with you on the whole baby whisperer but there's no way he chose his name." JJ was drawing the line of baby whisperer now. She slowly led upstairs, not noticing how Y/n's hand never left her back.

"Ok...back in college I double majored with criminal justice. I also have a PhD in philosophy. It's my retirement plan. But, one of the many philosophers I followed for a time was Henry of Ghent. I won't get into it, but he was an interesting philosopher. Made a big impact and I think so will he." Y/n gently poked JJ's side. A fond smile on her face as she thought of the next few years.

JJ was in awe. She knew Y/n to an extent but within the few months, she's met almost ever side of Y/n. And this new found knowledge of her smarts, it almost explained her always calm manor. Did she just question everything as well?

"A philosopher? You have some tricks up your sleeve still?" The blonde hummed out her question.

"I'm a jack of all trades," she whispered. If the two weren't as close as they were, the blonde would've missed it. Like how she missed the way Y/n was looking at her.

"Well I like it. Henry. Although what about a nickname?" She raised the next question. Opening the door and stretching her arms, her shirt lifted just barely.

Y/n caught the glimpse of skin. Wanting to reach out and touch, but knowing she would cause nothing but trouble if she did.

"You could call him 'Hen' for short...add a cluck or two after." Y/n smirked to her own joke. Not being quick enough from when JJ turned around to her arm getting whacked. "Hey!"

"Don't bully my kid," she squinted her eyes. Already beginning her night routine. "You could ask him?"

Y/n laughed from the bathroom attached to the room. She walked to the doorway with a fuzzy headband on her head, pushing her hair out her face. "Thought there was a line to my abilities?"

JJ, from the dressers, threw a look of pleading over. Standing straight up, tossing the clothes to the bed, and coming right up to Y/n. Standing toe to toe with the brunette who had a few inches on her. "There is, but prove me wrong."

Y/n heard the undertone. What it was fully, she didn't know, but she heard it loudly. "Challenging me?"

"Since day one."

And it was true in some sense. JJ had expressed early on she didn't believe in the sixth and seventh senses. They just sounded crazy and unrealistic. But as the months went on, it was clear Y/n did have these senses. How far they went, was something JJ wanted to know before the nine months was up.

Y/n's hand brushing back a strand of hair brought her back from her thoughts. She watched something swim in the e/c eyes that stared back at her. She saw it but couldn't pin it.

"You truly have been," Y/n huffed before leaving their moment. Heading deeper into the bathroom and leaving JJ to talk her heart down.

That night, Y/n had fallen asleep second. Leaving JJ to be awake by herself. It's how she found out her new favorite fact of Y/n. She likes to mumble in her sleep. But she didn't get to enjoy it too long as sleep soon took over her as well.

The next morning was the start of the final crunch. Three months, if all goes to plan, until the baby would be born.

JJ had woken to tiny feet kicking her from the inside. The second thing she noted was the lack of body heat next to her.

"Rise and shine! Happy Saturday! And boy do I have a question to ask you!" Y/n came in with tea and breakfast already made. The still half asleep blonde sat up. "Henry, still discussing nicknames, did decide on cinnamon Nutella crepes with strawberries. He's having a sweet tooth today. And his tea, just how he likes it."

The blonde couldn't help but blush at the tray sat down on her lap. "And your breakfast?" She raised a brow as Y/n sat down.

She made a quick oh before running to get her plate. Clearly eager to have a discussion. But it didn't come out right away, the question. Instead their breakfast was casual conversation.

"So, what was your question?" JJ asked as she finished her plate. "Absolute delicious by the way."

Y/n smiled as she cleared the plates. Taking a brief moment to run down to the kitchen and back up. "Have you thought of the nursery yet?"

The blue eyes went wide. "Oh my god, no. I didn't even consider a baby shower yet!"

"Perfect! Penelope is on her way to help us plan. We'll have it here of course. Whatever theme, well actually...Henry chose his theme already. I've explained him over the past few weeks different themes. And he chose pumpkins. Did I sway him based on the color scheme, maybe?" Y/n laid on her side as she explained everything. Hand propping her head up.

JJ was leaning on one hand, leaning closer to the other. "And this isn't you trying to pick the theme?"

Y/n looked up to her, "you wanna ask Henry?"

"Using that name free willing. How do you know I'll pick it?" She poked now. Enjoying their morning bicker.

The brunette made a thinking face, "maybe because I am some sort of telepath and I am able to read your thoughts. But..he'll kick in agreement with me. It's how we do. We locked in. One of the same mind." She began to joke a bit more.

It did earn her a laugh, one she enjoyed hearing very much. "If that's the case, how am I supposed to move out then? He'll never want to leave you."

There was a loud, echoing beat of silence. The two stared at each other. Like the night they knew their relationship was bound to change. The thought crossed their minds at the same time and the air suddenly became thick.

They were already so close.

Y/n sat up and a warm hand cupped JJ's right cheek. "Then don't leave...stay here with me." She was delicate with her words. A hopeful glimmer in her eyes that was begging more than her tone.

JJ could feel herself get choked up. These hormones were just horrible. Tears pricked her eyes as she leaned into the touch. "You couldn't possibly mean it?"

"I do. I..I find myself enjoying every moment with you here. It feels like a home actually. And even not for me..for him. Give him a home to grow up in." Y/n sounded a bit desperate to keep her. It was selfish and she knew that but it's what she wanted.

The blonde could read it off her body. The honesty and it warmed her entire body, feeling warmer when Y/n shuffled in her knees to be right there.

"Let me take care of you both..." she whispered. Her eyes dropped to the soft looking lips. How they were just barely parted. Then they snapped back up to JJ's.

They were watering as they sat there. Hearts beating as this was it. The moment they'd been beating around. The day their relationship was changing.

"Y/n..." JJ would faintly speak. Her eyes jumping all over. The other could sense her worries and knew she shared them as well, but everything has risks. Living in worries would lead nowhere.

The brunette close the gap. Pouring loads of affection into the kiss as she felt JJ kiss back. Smiles creeping on both their faces. Pulling back, they still smiled as they just looked at the other.

Y/n felt joy from her toes to every strand of hair. It's why she grabbed JJ's faces and kissed all over her face. Kissing away the few fallen tears. "I promise to protect you for everything I am. Both of you." She said right before placing another kiss to her lips.

JJ let adoration take over her face as she held the others face in her hands. "I know you will. You have already been and I can't thank you enough."

"You can thank me in kisses from now on?" She playfully raised a solution. Letting the blonde feel the heat that radiated off her cheeks with the blush.

"You can expect them more often," JJ began to get up. Turning to face Y/n who was risen on her knees at the edge of the bed. She sent a simple wink before getting off herself. "I'm going to change first, maybe shower as well."

"Let me know if you need anything," Y/n was about to leave the room. A hand holding her wrist stopped her. Her head turned as she questioned JJ.

There was this new look to her eyes. "It's hard to wash below the belly..."

Y/n turned a bright red once realizing what was being asked. Fingertips to her lips, she was shocked. "Are you sure? We don't have to really, that's not what I was trying to imply-,"

"Will you join me or not?" JJ cut off. Knowing that rambling could go on forever if she let it.

"Yeah...yes, yeah! Obviously." Y/n breathed out. Following the blonde into the bathroom, and she was thankful for having a spacious shower.

The air was silent as the water started. Both watched the other undress. Although, Y/n stared more. Her eyes not being able to tear away from the woman. Taking in every detail she could within the moment. How her boobs overfilled the bra, her thighs were more full, her belly smooth, her hair free from any styling, and a tiny bit of sleep in her eyes still.

She came close and slowly let a hand slip onto the belly as she smiled so wide JJ felt nothing but peace. "You are beyond beautiful."

That was the first shower the two shared, and JJ was instantly a fan of it. She enjoyed how Y/n was so cautious about where her hands went. Not overstep or rushing into anything. No, instead she did everything for JJ. Spoiling her with being able to just relax.

Out the shower was even better. All that she had to do was sit there while Y/n got her everything and hum her little tune.

"You enjoy this don't you?" JJ had asked. Never once letting her eyes leave Y/n. "Anytime you really like something you're doing, you hum. When you cook without headphones, you hum. At work when you're making the tea, you hum."

"Guilty. Took you long enough to catch onto that though. I've been humming around you for years." Y/n admitted, starting to dress herself. Her fingers carefully working at the buttons of the brown flannel. Tucking a bit of it into the grey sweats. "But besides that, Penelope is almost here. You take your time, but I will have a little fruit bowl cut up and ready for you."

"Is that how you know my thoughts? You've been working on being a telepath?" She laughed a bit, only because that's exactly what she wanted in the moment.

Y/n came over and placed a kiss to her lips, "oh absolutely. Why do you think we always had your coffee stalked specifically? I pay attention."

JJ rolled her eyes and pushed the other away. "Whatever."

She flashed a smile before disappearing downstairs. Beginning to get things ready for Penelope to come splay out all her party planning supplies. Which meant rearranging the downstairs to be open enough. Putting most effort into where the three would sit and look over everything.

It wasn't easy, but she knew it was beneficial. Y/n's seen the bubbly blonde plan before at her own house. It gets crazy. This time was no different either. She showed up, did her greetings and began to splay everything out.

Too engrossed in it, she missed the kiss the two shared as JJ came downstairs finally. Wearing one of Y/n's old college sweatshirts and a pair of sweats.

They began a hushed conversation as their guest kept working on laying everything out. "How long has she been here?"

"For at least fifteen minutes. Just know, it is opinion welcomed, but just know pumpkins were indeed my idea. Henry doesn't know anything about baby showers." Y/n came clean. Earning a wack to the arm.

JJ pointed her finger, "I knew you weren't that good."

Penelope spun around abruptly. "JJ! Mama of the shower! Are you ready to dive in?" Her smile was genuine and her hands clasped together.

With a hesitant nod, JJ walked over to the spot on the floor. Entering what might've been a planning nightmare to her.

It was any day now. Y/n wanted to stay back on most of the cases now, but JJ urged her to go anyways.

"It wouldn't serve them any good if we're both here. I will have Penelope by my side don't worry." JJ tried to reassure her every time. It did little to help, but it was enough to get her to go.

"Promise you'll call if anything changes?" Y/n had her bag slung over her shoulder. Eyeing the labor bag that was tucked under her desk.

JJ came from behind the desk. Being even shorter since she was free of her heels. Wearing the fuzzy slippers Y/n had bought her not too long ago. "Pinky promise. Now go," she placed a kiss, "save a girl." Playfully saluting, Y/n left the office.

Yet, she didn't. When the contractions started, she assumed it to be the false ones she's experienced before. So she brushed it off.

They only started after the jet had taken off for home. It would be another three hours before the team came back. Before Y/n came back.

As she sat next to Penelope, her hand held her stomach as she tried to avoid groaning (it didn't work). The friend picked up on these tiny groans after awhile. That's how they found out JJ was in labor.

But she wasn't ready. Y/n wasn't there and she needed her for this part. "I have to call Y/n..."

"From the car," Penelope ushered her out the bat cave. They walked through the halls quickly to get to the elevators, bumping into Emily and Jordan.

Emily furrowed her brows, "what's going on?"

Penelope beamed widely, "I am not a doctor, I don't even play one on tv, but JJ is going into labor!"

Emily shared the same smile now. Her head turning to look at Agent Todd. "I hope you're ready cause your job starts right now."

The two friends kept talking but the soon to be mother could only think of Y/n. Handles fumbling with her phone just to get the contact open. Each ring making her heart pound a little harder.

"Baby?" Her voice came through the phone. "What's up?" Face contorting, JJ groaned into the phone. "I assume Penelope and Emily are with you?" A small, pained, 'mm-hmm' was given. "Just breathe, it's gonna be ok. You've prepared for this. I will be there as soon as I can I promise you."

It was true, they've ran through everything together already. But when it came time to actually push, and there was still no sight of Y/n, JJ suddenly couldn't do it. This was too scary to face alone. Where was Y/n?

"I can't..." she whispered as the doctors came in. Her eyes were quick to look at Penelope. "No. I can't....where's Y/n?" The panic began to pick up and the room sensed it.

"The jet touched down awhile ago, she should be here any second now. But you have to breathe hun," Penelope tried to calm her. Her attempts doing nothing as she shook her head. "I'll have emily call her, but you have to calm down."

JJ felt the tears sting her eyes. Nobody was going to be there to hold her. They had talked about how they would do things together but now it was only her. The tears began to fall. "I need her. I don't know how to do this alone," she began to get even more worked up.

"She needs to calm down, the stress isn't good for her or the baby." The nurse whispered to Penelope.

It was agonizing for JJ to lay there alone. It tore Y/n apart knowing that as well. She was driving as fast as she could, tempted to turn the sirens on. But every turn felt like another, turn after turn, eventually leading to the hospital.

She was frantic with trying to get in. The lady at the desk could sense it as well as she gave up the room number. Watching as Y/n full sprinted to the stairs and up them. Bursting through the third floors door and towards the delivery room.

The sounds of JJ protesting to start pushing filling the silent hall. Y/n picked up her pace and barged in. The room turning to face her, but she was only looking to the blonde in bed.

"You're here!" She almost screamed. The tears falling finally as her hands gripped the side of the bed.

The brunette came closer, standing on the side of the bed, and placing a kiss to her forehead. "I am hunny," she calmed her. Hand slipping to hold hers and taking the squeezing.

"Alright Jennifer, you're ready to start pushing." The doctor finally came in. "Oh hello, you must be Y/n. Nurses can we get her ready?" They worked quickly. Scared honestly to take her too far away from JJ.

The team that came with sat in the lobby. Waiting for any update from the woman. "Ok...but did anyone else think they would've told us they gotten together?" Penelope raised. "Because coming in and calling her 'hunny'? It was almost natural, so it's been more than a week or two."

"Y/n is so that child's father." Emily sat down with a coffee in hand. "I'm just surprised that it took living with her for JJ to realize that she would've dropped everything ages ago."

"We'll factor in the job and she wouldn't have noticed if Y/n never feared her home." Hotch pitched into the building theory now. His eyes trained to his phone however.

Spencer came in shortly after. "How is she?" He didn't rush as fast from the jet to the hospital like Hotch and Y/n did. "Y/n make it in time?"

He sounded like he knew something and Emily and Penelope shared a look. "What do you know about those two?" One would ask.

He shrugged, "they've been dating since the start of the third trimester. They told me right away." He didn't see how important that information was.

Both women had their jaws dropped as the news had been broken. The lies they've been fed in that time as well. They had broken off into their own conversation. Discussing how they could've missed it and how well their teammates hid it. Also on reasons Reid would know first.

Spencer took the seat next to Hotch. "Did she make it though?" He asked, knowing how important this was to the both of them.

"She did. And those two came back saying it should be any minute." He gestured to Emily and Penelope. Then he looked back to the genius. "Why did they tell you first?"

"They said it was because they knew I wouldn't say anything anyways. Also because I caught them in JJ's office sharing a sweet moment." He explained.

The moment he had scene was Y/n whispering to Henry to calm down, JJ had been complaining of it for hours that day. Then right as he was about to knock, Y/n placed a kiss to the belly then shared one with JJ. Both smiling before realizing he was there. It left them with no choice but to mention it to him.

After that, the lobby fell into a peaceful silence as they waited. It was unlike the delivery room. Full of JJ's screams and puffing. Y/n's hands felt broken as she sat behind and encouraged her through everything.

But, she would admit, her broken bones were worth every second. Even as she brushed through JJ's hair as she finally could rest, she could only think of their future together now.

Pressing a soft kiss to her sweaty hairline. "You're amazing." She whispered into the others ear. "You're gonna be an amazing mom."

The blonde hummed in acknowledgement. Her hand slowly intertwining with Y/n's. "Thank you for everything." She felt the shift from behind her and groaned with confusion.

"You should get some rest. There's four agents who want to meet Henry." She explained her disappearing, placing another kiss to her forehead. "I'll be back in a few to sit by your side."

A few weeks had passed and it was a guessing game on who would come back first. Neither of the two had really mentioned anything to anyone.

"I'm placing bets it's JJ first. If it was love-sick Y/n, she would've mentioned her return in the group chat." Derek placed his money down. A twenty sat on Emily's desk, waiting for hers to accompany it.

"I place bet it's Y/n first," Rossi laid his while walking past. It surprised the two that he wanted in on it.

Emily had to think of a third out come suddenly. "I bet one of them resigns." She threw out the crazy possibility. Knowing she was loosing twenty in the end no matter what. Even the two men looked at her in question. Her only answer was a shrug and a lost 'I dunno'.

Meanwhile, JJ was up and getting ready for her return to work. Her heels clacking against the smooth wood into the kitchen. Smiling at the sight of Y/n dancing around Henry as she cooked for them.

"You teaching him some moves?" The blonde laughed as she found her cup of coffee. She moved to place a kiss to her baby's head. "Good morning, handsome boy."

Y/n beamed happily, "he already has them. I think it's from all the dancing we did. Good morning hun," the brunette spun around the island to give a morning kiss. "Are you ready for your return?"

JJ's smiled dropped slowly as she stared at Y/n. She was still in her pajamas and hardly ready for a day. "Are you sure this is what you want to do? No one is asking you to do this as much as I appreciate it."

Y/n lightly laughed, they'd been through this so many time within the last few weeks. "If I didn't want to leave, I wouldn't. But I know you love that job with everything in you and someone has to be here for Henry. And...maybe it's time I use my backup plan? The FBI was a good money plan that's given me a lot of skills, but I'm ready for a casual life."

The blonde searched for any sign there was a lie. That Y/n did want to come back with her. That it should be Y/n going back today and not her. But this is what she was choosing and there was no changing her mind.

So, she nodded and let the conversation go. "What do you have planned today?" Was the new topic.

Y/n plated the breakfast for the two of them, and the bottle for Henry. "Well, me and Henry are going to go out grocery shopping later. Then I'll come back and clean a little while he's down for a nap. But that's if I stick with the plan."

JJ hummed, "you truly are a blessing Y/n. The BAU will miss you." Her arms lazily wrapped around the others neck. "I'll miss you the most at work."

"Just gives you a good reason to come home at the end of everything. Two good reasons actually." She had a tiny smirk on her lips. "And because I can hear your worries, we'll be fine. I was an agent myself, I know how to kick ass. Oh but we should get a dog!"

The blonde shook her head at the sudden switch. Knowing these mornings would be her favorite moments. "I can't even tell you no, it's your house." She moved back to where her coffee mug sat.

Y/n playfully scoffed, "as if this is just my house." She came around from her spot and hugged JJ from behind. Placing a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck, then her ear.

The woman hummed in satisfaction. "You're right, it's a home. We just live in it." She joked. Remembering the first time that they realized it was their home.

"It's our home, baby." Y/n placed one more kiss to her head before slipping away again.

JJ knew this was when she would go change finally and get ready. It gave her time to sit with Henry and think of the luck she's been given. "She's right ya' know. It's our home." She spoke to the baby who just smiled to her. The blonde couldn't help the smile that came from her either. "You're gonna be in such good hands. We both are, we have been...we have someone who is our protector." The baby laughed

"Mm, I'll protect you till my final breath. Both of you." The other came back. She was in an old college sweatshirt and a pair of black leggings. Crew socks running up past her ankles.

She walked in closer to the two, placing a kiss to both their heads. Swearing in secrecy to literally put her life on the line for these two. That she was willing to give up her own life because of the love that swarmed her body every time they were near. Even when they weren't near, she still felt the connection flow so easily.

She sat in the stool right near the table. "You'll say hi to everyone for me right? Also before you tell them ask about the bet they probably have, I put money Rossi wins." Her smile was goofy but she knew the joke eased some nerves.

The blonde hummed softly, "you'll call if you need anything?" She stood and moved closer. Her hand coming to hold Y/n's face.

Her empty mug being taken into the others hands. "I promise to call. You promise not to worry too much?"

JJ chuckled before pressing a kiss to her hairline, "I'll try my best." She made work at getting ready to leave, tying her coat up by the front door.

Her hand grasped at the handle and before she could step forward, arms were around her holding her tightly. And then the realization hit in a little more. Y/n wasn't coming back to work with her. There would be a new open spot and there wouldn't be her on cases anymore. Honestly, a part of JJ felt like the other had this planned and it worked out in both their favors. So she turned and held her close and tight.

Both were suppressing the tears now. Yet, when they pulled away the brunette was smiling widely with glassy eyes. "Sorry, sorry. I just couldn't help it. Get home safe for me ok? I know I said I'd protect you, but I need you to stay alive to be protected, yeah?" JJ inhaled sharply and nodded her head. Words were only going to make her break and cry. "Ok," a kiss placed to her cheek. "Go. Get to work. Call me if you need anything, I love you. Get home safe. And ask about the bet."

The words of love almost were missed, but JJ caught them. They pushed the tears over and soon she was crying heavily while holding onto her girlfriend. Not caring if she was late before her first day back.

"Well look who's back first!" Derek wore his cocky grin as he walked to the small pile of twenties. Hand grabbing them and flaunting them around.

JJ shook her head, "she wanted me to ask about that. What was everyone's guess?"

Emily after rolling her eyes at the bald man sighed. "Derek said you'd come back first, Rossi said the other, and I said someone would resign."

She weighed everyone's chances of winning. "Well let me tell you, that one of you is right and it's not the man with the money." She tilted towards Derek who was still bragging. It really only left one answer and Emily shouted when she realized it.

"No!" Her eyes were wide and jaw was dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Her hands were thrown up into the air.

Penelope had just came in with the newspaper. "Oh Emily's dropping f-bombs before ten! What's the news?" She hurried over to the other two, eager to hear the new drama.

"I won the bet! And I'm not happy about it either!" She groaned before going up to Derek. Ripping the sixty dollars out his hand. "I'm not pleased to do this."

"Wait...but your bet.." her eyes jumped to JJ who was nodding at the unasked question. "She resigned?!"

The realization caused a heavy silence. Everyone focusing on the open desk. All her decorations were still on it but soon they wouldn't be. Everything felt surreal as they all knew Emily's side of the bet was truly a joke, but now that it was true they didn't think it funny anymore. The entire day was filled with quietness and sorrow filled glances to the vacant desk.

Towards the end, after going serial killer free, JJ's phone rang as she came into the bullpen. "Agent Jareau."

"Ooh so formal. Now I know you don't check your caller id." Her voice came through the phone. The smile she wore was evident. "Are you on your way home?"

"Yeah, everyone's finishing up right now. I should be back in like thirty minutes? Why? What's up?" The blonde slowed her pace and stood still in the moment. A flash of worry hitting her as soon as she finished asking.

JJ could hear the smile from through the phone. "You should invite everyone over for family dinner. Mostly because I may have cooked more than needed and need people to eat it all."

The blonde laughed lightly and looked over to her colleagues. "Right, well then you can expect everyone in twenty. I'll see you at home," she agreed and caught the attention of the group.

"Love you," was the last thing said before the line went dead.

JJ sighed as they waited expectingly for the invite. Almost like they knew what was being asked. "You've been invited to dinner by the chef. She expects your attendance."

They all cheered and were quick to pack everything up. Trailing slightly behind JJ who left five minutes before them.

It gave her enough time to make it home and catch a breather before they showed up. And when she walked through the front door, the delicious smell of fried chicken floated through the house.

"Babe?" She called into the house, being louder than the music that played. She moved further in, not surprised by the sight she saw.

Y/n danced around Henry in his high chair as she plated all the food. It looked like a feast with how much she actually made. Once she noticed JJ, her feet did their own dance over to her. Rising on her tiptoes to place a passionate kiss to her lips. "And the woman of the house is home!" She cheered, getting Henry to laugh and clap along. She pulled JJ towards the kitchen, letting her take in the smell up close. "I had an inkling you were feeling steak today."

The blonde side eyed her for a moment. "I thought the JJ senses only worked with the baby in me?"

"No they work because I love you, always have been loving you, always will be loving you." She gave her another kiss and slipped away to get wine glasses ready.

"Really? And when did you know you loved me?" JJ asked as she left to drop her bag in the study. Letting her hair free from the slick back ponytail and shaking out her hair.

Y/n looked into the air, like she was searching for the right memory. "The day Hotch sent me a photo of us on the jet. I never showed you or mentioned it because I didn't know how you were going to feel if I did." She confessed while grabbing more glasses.

JJ furrowed her brows before heading up to change and settle in. Only taking a few minutes as she only did change and let her hair loose of its ponytail. When she came down a glass was ready at the bottom of the stairs with her girlfriend smiling softly up at her.

"What was the photo of?" She had came back to the question of a few moments ago. Taking the glass and really kissing those lips she's missed seeing smile around every corner. "Hello, baby."

The delicate way the words were delivered made Y/n grow a shy smile and a heavy blush as telling the truth now seemed impossible. And even as she did try to look away and avoid it, JJ had her jaw and forced her eyes up. A curiosity swarming in her eyes that was darker than usual.

There was a giggle before she seriously stared up, schooling her features. "The first case you started to come to me about talking Henry to sleep, we were on the plane and...maybe the man who never sleeps saw us all snuggled up on the couch. The next day he brought me in and had asked about us and I mean basically what I'm saying is Hotch has been knowing before we even were official."

JJ's jaw dropped as the other sprinted from her grasp and back into the kitchen. Being saved by the doorbell that was left for the blonde to answer. As she walked closer, she called over the music. "You're so dead when they leave." And with that she opened the door. Inviting in their loving work family who were all ready for a feast.

"So you decided to leave, why?" Derek asked while leaning back. His right hand slung over the couch around Garcia, while his left pointed with his beer that he brought close to him shortly after.

She followed his moves and leaned back in the chair as well, her own drink being set on the small table off to the side. "Well, I know- we know how much she loves her job. I don't think she would be ready to say good bye like that so easily. Plus my body's beginning to age...I can't kick ass forever."

Reid furrowed his brows, "you're only 26? How can your body already be aging where you can't fight crime?"

She shrugged anyways, "it just did. I have a kid now, and a baby." She beamed widely while the room lightly laughed.

The stairs creaked, "you just call me childish?" JJ had an arched brow as she went to grab her wine glass and come over to the living room. She passed the chair and an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her down and carefully into another's lap.

"No, I'm calling you my baby." Y/n smiled even wider somehow. Body tingling with affection and warmth that consumed JJ.

"So what are you doing now?" Rossi raised the next question. "You seem to have a backup plan already, so out with it kid."

"I'm guest teaching at the college for philosophy. Along with a few guest lectures for the academy. It's just something slight to keep and extra flow." She had explained it so easily. The team wasn't oblivious to the softness in her voice as she spoke of her next career. It was like she was relieved from everything bad in the world. "I'll mostly just be around to be with Henry otherwise."

"And mama bear how does this make you feel?" Penelope furrowed her brows, curious on how the blonde was handling it so well. Unlike her who was going to fight it anyways.

JJ shrugged lightly and looked down to the other, "it's sad knowing I won't have someone tending to my needs like her. Otherwise, it's comforting knowing someone will always be able to protect Henry."

"Yeah, but think of the homage meals you'll come home to now. Kid knows how to cook, makes me wonder why I'm the only one giving lessons?" Rossi raises a brow. "Seriously, why the holding out? We could've been sharing recipes."

The chef laughed, "because my cooking was nothing compared to yours when I started. I learned in silence so I could do this one day." It was earnest of her. Their family sat in her living room enjoying the time they had of just peace. Glasses full of drinks as they chatted about freely. Sharing stories and laughter that chased away the reality of their jobs. "To the day I could cook for my family."

Penelope gushed as she began to fan her face. "Sugar you're too sweet!" She laughed and a few joined her. Derek had pulled her closer in a hug.

"We'll miss you," Hotch had mentioned. He raised his glass towards where she sat. Everyone joined in as well. A silent toast given in her regards.

"Yeah, yeah, enough sappiness people! I'm not dying or anything, I'm always around still. You'll know where to find me and I'll always have something cooked." She nodded with a wide smile. "My rule is though, you can't bring work talk in here. Home is a sacred place."

"It's gonna cost ya..." Emily shrugged while looking for an offer to balance it out. Even if it Y/n's house, she was going to try and get something knowing how much they talked about work.

She rolled her eyes once more, "I literally said I'd always have a meal cooked for you! Was that not enough?"

"You have to send leftovers with JJ since we won't be here every single night." Derek pointed, Emily snapped and agreed instantly.

"Yea..yea leftovers get sent out way." Emily repeated it and it made the room laugh at the antics.

Their conversations continued on until glasses began to empty and everyone began to head home. Exchanging hugs as they went. And eventually it was just the two back on the couch leaning against the other.

"I love you, you know that right?" Y/n had hummed before sipping on her drink, they had decided one more to end the night.

"I wouldn't have ever doubted it." JJ nuzzled her nose against the others neck, placing a soft kiss to her pulse point. "And I love you."

The vibrations from Y/n's hum tickled against her lips. But when she pulled away her smile had slightly faltered at the sudden appearance of the black box. "What's that?" She whispered.

"A gift, a promise." Was all she was given. With a shaky hand she opened the lid, revealing the citrine ring that was surrounded by a few diamonds. It was eye capturing but just enough to not be too much. "It's citrine."

"Henry's birthstone."

"When the time is right, I plan to get you another ring. I promise I'll get you another ring because I promise to never leave you. I know we've had this conversation, but I want you to know and have evidence I mean it. I love you beyond my words. I love Henry beyond my words. I want you both in my life till forever runs out." She simply spoke. Her hands reaching for the ring and slipping it onto JJ's slender fingers. There she kissed the rock on her hand. "I promise my all to you Jennifer Jareau."

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