natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 (𝟒/𝟒)

a/n: finale! finally (yes this is a wordplay)

parts of the mission make no sense so i apologize for that, just focus on Y/N and Nat please 🙏

Blood all over the counter.

You squeak and pick up Grace, who's watching in horror as her thumb keeps bleeding. All it took were an apple, a knife and five minutes of not watching her. You promised you'd make her afternoon snack, but you got caught up helping Natasha weatherproof the building.

"What happened?", you ask — an unnecessary question, as you could tell at first glance. "Jesus, Grace. Let me clean that up, come on. Does it hurt?"

"No", she mumbles. Her voice is thick, like it always gets when there's a sob stuck in her throat. She's about to bawl. "I wanted apples."

"I know, honey." You shush her as you make your way into the bathroom. She watches the blood drip, then curls her hand against her chest and — just as predicted — lets the tears flow. "Yes, it looks scary now. I promise you'll be better."

Natasha heard the commotion from all the way in the bedroom. She steps out, hair damp and muscles glistening with sweat. You ignore her and walk right past. She's not that easy to get rid of, though. She's proven it before. Besides, she's worried for the sobbing child in your arms.

"She's bleeding", she says, following you.

"You know, stating the obvious won't help."

"Why is she bleeding?", she stresses. "What-"

You give her an exasperated look. You know Natasha is used to seeing blood — in fact, she's seen much worse. A little cut can't be that distressing.

"She cut her thumb", you say, putting Grace on the bathroom counter. "It's fine."

"I'm bleeding", the girl sobs out, showing Natasha her thumb.

"I can see", she says softly. "Your mom will get that sorted out, don't worry."

You roll your eyes. She notices, of course, but doesn't say anything. Something rustles as she digs through a drawer. When you look up from Grace's hand, you see an assortment of medical supplies on the counter.

Natasha doesn't say anything. She stays next to you, arms crossed and eyes not meeting yours. You sigh and give her a nudge.

"We already have a pouting toddler", you say. "No need for you to sulk. Want to help a bit?"

She glances at you, then grabs one of the bottles she put out for you. You step away, she takes your place, and Grace extends her hand with enough enthusiasm to almost knock the bottle out of her hand.

"You pack quite the punch", Natasha mumbles, disinfecting the cut. "The Avengers could use you."

"Who?", Grace questions. She stares at her thumb as it's cleaned and bandaged up. You lean against the doorway, watching silently.

"The Avengers. They're superheroes. They'd like you."

Outside, you hear noises. Nothing of concern, at least at first — something crackles, the wind howls. The storm has quieted down for now, thankfully, and the rain is nothing but a mere pattering on the roof. Then, in the distance, it's a lower, less organic sound. Not native to the area, but familiar in a way that makes your ears perk up.

"I want to be a superhero."

"You can be. Look, what bandaid do you want?"

"Are those cars?"

Natasha and Grace both look up at the same time. Your daughter barely managed to point at the mermaid bandaids.

"Cars?", Natasha asks, forgetting about the bandaid. "Not out here."