natasha romanoff oneshots

faith and love

author notes:
about religion, losing faith and getting it back and romanogers falling in love

The afternoon sun filtered through the large, arching windows of the Avengers Tower living room as the team relaxed, scattered on couches and armchairs, talking. Clint had brought up something about his sister's wedding in a cathedral, and soon enough, they were discussing religion—faith, family traditions, church services they'd grown up attending, and where they stood now.

Steve, sitting quietly with a soft smile, mentioned his Sunday school days. Wanda nodded, sharing how her mother’s beliefs had comforted her in Sokovia. Sam had a few funny anecdotes about his family's church choir, and Thor chuckled as he tried to liken it to Asgardian ceremonies, much to everyone’s amusement. But Natasha remained silent, staring off, her lips pressed tight.

Noticing her quiet demeanor, Steve eventually asked, “What about you, Natasha?”

Her gaze shifted to Steve. She shrugged, an edge creeping into her voice as she said, “Not much to tell. I left all that behind a long time ago.”

Most of the team brushed it off, figuring it was just another aspect of her past she didn’t like to revisit. But Steve didn’t drop it. He saw the faint flicker in her eyes, a pain he rarely saw her show, and he was deeply unsettled by it. That night, as the others dispersed, he sought her out.

He found her in the gym, the low lighting casting her figure in shadow as she worked her fists against a punching bag. She didn’t look up as he approached.

"Natasha,” he said softly, stepping closer, “I don’t mean to pry, but… I couldn’t help noticing something was on your mind earlier. About faith.”

She paused mid-punch, catching her breath, her face hardening as she wiped a stray strand of hair back.

“Steve, just drop it,” she replied, her voice flat.

He was quiet, taking in her tense posture, her wary expression. “I just… I know you have a complicated past. But if faith was ever something you believed in… I’d like to help you find it again.”

Her jaw clenched. “You think it’s that simple?”

“I know it’s not,” he said, calm but resolute. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I could… I’d be here, every step.”

She shook her head with a bitter laugh, the sound void of any real amusement. “You wouldn’t get it, Steve. Faith isn’t something you can just… fix. You didn’t lose it the way I did.”

She threw herself back into her punches, each one harder than the last, as if fighting her own memories. Steve stayed there, a silent witness to her pain, not pressing her further. And he kept showing up, day after day. Whether it was during training, movie nights, or quiet breakfasts in the kitchen, he was there, trying to earn her trust, letting her come to him in her own time.

A few weeks later, she finally let him in.

The two of them were sitting in the quiet of the living room, the rest of the team already asleep, the soft hum of the city lights beyond the windows their only company.

Natasha stared at her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “I used to believe. My family… they were Orthodox, strong believers. Sundays in church, prayers before bed…” Her words trailed off, a haunted look in her eyes. “But then came the Red Room, and… I lost all of it. God, hope… my own sense of self. They tore it out of me, piece by piece.”

Steve’s heart ached as he listened, feeling the weight of the darkness she had lived through.

“Nat,” he said softly, reaching to touch her hand, “I don’t pretend to know what you’ve been through. But I do know that faith doesn’t mean you never go through suffering. It just… gives you something to hold on to, a reason to keep fighting.”

Her eyes snapped to his, and something broke within her. She stood up abruptly, pacing the room as her voice rose, raw and desperate. “If God loves me, Steve, then why? Why would he let that happen to me? Let them take me, twist me into something unrecognizable?”

Her voice cracked, and she stood there, trembling. Steve didn’t hesitate; he closed the distance between them, gently pulling her into his arms. She resisted at first, her body tense and unyielding, but then she crumbled, her fists clutching his shirt as sobs wracked her body. She cried, her voice muffled against his chest, her words a tangled mess of pain and anger and despair. Steve held her, rubbing slow circles on her back, grounding her with his steady presence.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. “But I know you’re not alone. I’m here. And if you ever want to believe again… I’ll be there, helping you every step of the way.”

The vulnerability in her eyes as she looked up at him made his heart ache. In that moment, the walls she’d kept so firmly in place between them began to dissolve.

From that night, something shifted. Natasha and Steve spent more time together, and the team noticed. At first, they watched with a mixture of curiosity and quiet awe as Natasha began to let her guard down around Steve. She would sit beside him during breakfast, leaning into his shoulder in quiet moments. He would catch her when she stumbled after a long training session, and she allowed him to carry her back to her room when exhaustion claimed her.

On Sundays, she started going to church with him, slipping in quietly beside him in the pews. Though she rarely spoke during the services, she would occasionally close her eyes and listen to the hymns, her hand clasped in Steve’s as he gently encouraged her to take whatever comfort she could find.

They trained together more than ever, their trust and admiration for each other evident in every exchange, every touch, every unspoken word. And when Natasha stayed up late with Steve, explaining things from her past—old books, music, even movies he’d missed during his time frozen—she found herself relaxing in his presence in a way she’d never thought possible.

Their bond deepened, the trust between them unwavering. One evening, curled up on the couch together, Natasha glanced up at him, her voice soft as she confessed, “I think… I think I want to believe again. But only if you’re there, helping me find my way.”

Steve’s face softened, his hand gently tracing her cheek. “I’ll be there, every step.”

In the background, the team looked on with quiet smiles, touched by the transformation. Clint nudged Wanda, his voice barely a whisper. “Never thought I’d see her like this. Steve’s good for her.”

Wanda smiled, watching as Natasha relaxed against Steve’s shoulder. “They’re good for each other.”

Over the next weeks, they spent more time together than ever before. Steve would catch her hand as they walked through the park, his fingers lacing through hers without hesitation. Natasha would occasionally lean her head against his shoulder during movie nights, falling asleep there as he watched her with a tenderness that made the team’s hearts swell.

One night, after a long training session, Natasha stumbled, and without a second thought, Steve scooped her up, carrying her down the hallway toward her room. She laughed softly, exhausted yet grateful, leaning her head against his shoulder.

The rest of the team shared smiles and hushed whispers, each of them feeling touched by the bond that had blossomed between the two. Natasha, once closed off and guarded, had finally found someone she could trust enough to let in. And Steve, steadfast and patient, had found someone who challenged him, who pushed him to understand and care in ways he’d never known.

In time, Natasha found herself praying again, though it was more about the quiet moments, sitting with Steve in silence, letting herself feel at peace. And as they walked into church together, hand in hand, she felt a warmth she hadn’t thought possible—a sense of being loved and valued, just as she was.