natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

🌲 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬

part of the thirteen years universe, as you can tell by the tree emoji in the title; i might turn this into a separate book as well

a/n: kinda based on the taylor swift song but i definitely added my own spin so don't expect too much accuracy; ice hockey coach!nat, journalist!reader, set during christmas

started writing this in september knowing i wouldn't post it before december; merry christmas and happy holidays 🎄 EDIT: didn't mean to upload until the 23rd but i made a mistake and posted it early on tumblr sigh, guess i have to post it here now as well 

if your name is emma, consider this a formal apology 🥲

Ice crunches underfoot. Christmas lights sparkle. Someone built a snowman in front of your parents' house.

It's winter in Minnesota. The sidewalks are covered in thick snow, icicles hang from roofs, one of your neighbors is driving off on a snowmobile. You get out of the taxi and grab your luggage from the trunk.

Three more weeks, then it'll be Christmas. Your original plan was to stay over the holidays — New Year's included — but no longer than that. You have a job to get back to, after all.

Had. You had a job to get back to. After studying journalism in New York and doing internships for a while, a major American newspaper picked you up as a foreign correspondent. You spent a few years in a bureau in Berlin and traveled the region for stories. You then moved to Hong Kong and continued working there. In the end, despite a successful career, your hometown in Minnesota managed to pull you back in.

You're still trying to convince yourself you'll leave as soon as possible. The small town life never has been for you, after all. Even as a child, the only dream you stubbornly insisted on was to get away from here. Find a bigger city, with more opportunities and less neighbors tattling across fences.

You never thought you'd miss your hometown. Then, over a decade later, doubt started to creep in. It was subtle at first, but when you couldn't ignore it anymore, you quit your job on an alcohol-fueled whim and booked the next flight home.

It's quiet in your neighborhood. A kid is padding down the sidewalk, dragging a sled along. Someone can be heard complaining to their spouse about something. In your parents' front yard, your father is climbing a latter to put a sleigh with Santa and his reindeers on the roof.

"Careful", you call — and he nearly slips. "Christ, dad!"

"Y/N!", he replies, grabbing the gutter to keep himself atop the ladder. "Scared the crap outta me. You're home early."

The gate creaks when you push it open. Struggling, you yank the suitcases along and kick snow out of your way. "Got an earlier flight. Didn't mom tell you?"

"Your mom is busy", he says, running a gloved hand down his reddened face. "Helping your sister with the baby and whatnot. Don't be too loud when you go inside, she just fell asleep. For the love of god, those kids don't let her rest."

"Kim had the baby?" You give him a look of disbelief. "You didn't tell me!"

He pauses and scratches his temple, the old deerstalker on his head slightly crooked. The guilt hits him suddenly and unexpectedly. It's harder to keep the family members who move across the globe updated, but he's aware it's not an excuse.

"Well, she's only a couple weeks", he finally brushes it off. "Born, uhm...November something."

"You don't know her birthday?"

Your dad shrugs and turns back around to his Christmas decorations. You sigh and make your way to the front door. A wreath adorns it, but it looks kind of beat, like someone tugged on it until it fell. Probably your nephew.