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levelsevenlaserlotus · 2 years

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Holy Ground

Part 7

AN: So um this is awkward, I promise I’m not dead or anything, shit just kinda hit that fan for me. But now that I’m back I’m not going anywhere. Also shoutout to the lovely @sweetmissnothing for reviewing and revising as always.

Parings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: When your babysitter cancels last minute you have no choice but to bring you daughter with you to your college class. There, your daughter seems to catch the attention of your hot redhead professor.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Words: 3.5k

“Mommy! Mommy! Look what Peter bought me!” Stella sings cheerfully, skipping up to you, right past Peter who unlocked the door.

It couldn’t have been more than 40 minutes between Jack’s impromptu visit and Stella’s arrival at home. If Jack had decided to stick around, you shudder at the thought.

“You’re not looking!” Stella whined, jumping up and down impatiently.

“Sorry honey, what did you want to show me?” You ask, shaking your head to clear it.

“Peter bought me an otter stuffy. ” Stella says, pulling the brown stuffed animal from under her arm to show you.

Great, as if your daughter needed another stuffed animal. Frankly it was a miracle Stella could still sleep in her bed with all those plushies piled high.

“Wow! That was really nice of him, what do we say when people do nice things for us?” You ask gently.

Stella gives you a toothy smile, turns to Peter and gives him a high pitched: “Thank you!”

Peter smiles back at her, ruffling her hair gently.

“Of course, whatcha gonna name it?”

“Ottie.” Stella says giggling happily, hugging the stuffed otter closer to her chest.

“That’s a perfect name for it.” You tell her distractedly.

Stella’s eyes sparkle under the praise before running off with Ottie, presumably to introduce him to her other stuffed friends.

“You didn’t have to.” You tell Peter who just shakes his head and shrugs.

“I know but I wanted to.” You roll your eyes.

“The last thing that girl needs is more toys, but really thank you.”

“Of course, don’t worry about it!” Peter says brightly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Peter, I don’t mean to say this to be rude but, do you have friends?” You ask gently, you didn’t know of many teenagers who would spend their weekends hanging out with a toddler, regardless of how cute they were.

“What? What makes you say that?” Peter asks almost nervously.

“Peter, you babysit at least a couple times a week, half of the time you don’t even let me pay, that’s not exactly normal for kids your age. You should be going to parties and hanging out with friends.” You lecture him.

“I like babysitting!” Peter protests, his voice going higher than normal. “And I have friends, I have Ned!”

“Okay, okay. I get it. I just don’t want you missing out on anything because you're babysitting.” You tell the teenager gently.

“I’m not missing out on much, trust me. Drugs and sex probably.” Peter says, playing with the ends of his sleeves.

“Well I’m hopefully enough of an example of what happens when you have sex as a teenager.” You laugh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, no girls even look my way.” Peter says, hands in his pockets looking somewhat tense.

“Well I wouldn’t worry, you're 14 so you have plenty of time to meet and kiss girls.” You reassure him.

“Maybe.” Peter says, looking down with a slight blush on his cheeks. You think about teasing the young boy but you end up saving him from the embarrassment.

After saying goodbye to Peter you start on dinner. Your mind is so full of thoughts that you burn the chicken breasts you were making. Oh well, there’s always takeout.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re careful to wait until you're sure Stella’s asleep before you call to unleash your rage upon your mother.

Your relationship with your mother was tremulous at best, difficult and strained. Your relationship with your father was barely better than the former.

You were raised in the traditional Christian household. You went to church every Sunday, prayed before each meal and even promised your virginity to your husband when you were 12.

It should have been no surprise to anyone the sort of person you became outside of the house. Your mother would’ve had a stroke if she knew how many times you sneaked out or sneaked people inside the house. The parties, pills and people that you sought out might have caused an early death if she had known.

When she learned of your pregnancy, she almost did die, inside at least. Her worst fear for you came true, a teen mom, an unmarried teen mom at that. The only thing worse in her mind was probably you being gay, because somehow an unexpected teen pregnancy was not much worse than your sexuality.

You never did come out to either of your parents, waiting them out just seemed like a safer option. So you stayed in the closet, kissed girls at parties and never told a soul. You always thought you’d have time to fully explore your sexuality in college.

Then you got pregnant, and suddenly college wasn’t so certain. After the rage of the storm your mother put upon you, she got oddly calm. There were options, not abortion obviously, because God says life starts at conception, but marriage. If you and Jack got married before you started to show then at least your mother could continue to put up the front that you saved yourself for marriage. It didn’t matter that you weren’t sure if you ever even wanted to get married, or how even if you did Jack was the last person you’d tie yourself to.

Jack wasn’t ever your boyfriend, just some senior in your class that had a car and daddy’s credit card. It didn’t matter that you had no romantic feelings for him, according to your mother if you liked him enough to have sex with him that was enough to marry him. That ideology led you to again question your own parents' marriage.

You weren’t exactly kicked out but when you refused to even consider marrying Jack, you left for a while. Staying at a couple of friends' houses, conveniently leaving out the part where you were pregnant.

You were almost in your second trimester before your father called you to come back home. Going as far as lying to you, insisting that your mother wanted you home as much as he did. What was closer to the truth, you’d suspected, was that your mother couldn’t continue to keep up the lie that you had never left in the first place.

You did return, your friends started asking too many questions and truthfully you missed home. Almost turned right back around when it became clear that your mother was less than enthusiastic about your return. Wanting nothing to do with you, didn’t even want you home but your father put his foot down, it was his house, his rules.

It was still a hellish experience, your mother barely acknowledged your existence and if she did it was to shame you for your choices. As for your pregnancy? It might have not ever existed, the unspoken rule was that you were to never speak of it. You would tell your mother you were going out for lunch or a walk, when everyone knew you really had an ultrasound appointment. You mother never wanted to talk about it? Fine with you.

Her anger and disappointment only grew with your pregnancy, once you hit four months and hiding your belly was getting difficult, your mother was soon ostracized from her group of church moms. All of them were apparently terrified that teen pregnancy was contagious.

This disappointment carried over, your own mother refusing to be in the delivery room, choosing instead to go on a weekend getaway to the spa due to the stress. Your father on the other hand was unable to leave work, or so he said. You gave birth alone, with no one but the doctors and nurses to witness.

You resented them at first, then you saw her, tiny and so incredibly vulnerable and you realized you didn’t want them there. Their cruelty and disappointment had no place in such a joyous moment. No place near something so innocent and perfect.

It was just the two of you, soft and cozy, untouchable by the rest of the world at that moment. You knew that your daughter would be enough for you, but would you be enough for her? You made a silent promise to yourself that you would try to be enough for your daughter.

Stella became the only family you wanted or would ever need, you knew that right when you saw those big eyes staring into yours.

You lived at home for a while, you were in no shape to return to school, and you were terrified at even the idea of leaving Stella all alone. Because that’s what she would be without you, all alone.

You missed prom and graduation, your friends went dress shopping without you and your diploma was mailed to your house.

That summer before your first year of college was the hardest, your mother absent and your father at work.

You spent most of your time in your bedroom, Stella cuddled up on your bare chest and for hours you would watch her breathe.

Things got better when you went off to college, your relationship with your parents got better with distance. Your parents met Stella a few times and it wasn’t a horrible experience. While your parents never called you, when you did call a few times a month they always answered. Communication was limited and as a result better than ever.

You never did ask either of them for anything, but every month without fail your father sent a couple thousand. Maybe it was out of guilt but that money practically paid for your apartment’s rent so you were grateful.

Things were better, you made a family in Wanda and Pietro, even Peter, who became the little brother you always wanted.

And now because of your mother, someone was trying to rip your found family apart. Jack would never be the family Stella needed, never be enough for her. Jack wasn’t her family, you were, Wanda, Pietro and Peter were.

And her family was growing, Laura and Clint were the aunt and uncle Stella never had. Cooper, Lila and little baby Natheinel were the best cousins Stella could ever have.

Stella was happy, and loved, so loved by everyone. Jack couldn’t just walk in and try to rip her away from everything she’s ever known. And you would never let that happen.

On the seventh ring your mother picks up and you don’t hesitate to curse her out.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That is no way to greet your own mother.” Your mother scolds in a harsh tone. Your finger’s grip tightens around the phone, your anger bubbling up into the surface.

“Yes, well you’re hardly acting like one so.” You say coolly. You can imagine her at home, pouring a glass of wine, settled into bed when you call her. Completely indifferent and unfazed by the destruction she sent your way.

“That’s certainly an attitude you’ve got there, I would hope you don’t speak to Stella in that way”. Your mother says in a condescending voice. Yeah right, as if you were going to let your mother of all people tell you how to mother your own child.

“Keep Stella out of this, you’ve already done enough.” You say harshly, not even trying to control your tone. Too enraged to even think straight.

“I don’t know what you're talking about!” Your mother says, apparently horrified at your accusation.

“Don’t lie to me, you know exactly what you did.” The audacity of this woman, to lie to your face and play ignorant.

“I don’t like the tone you're using with me, young lady. You think just because you're an adult now that you can talk to me however you like. I think you forget that I’m your mother and am entitled to your respect.” Your mother lectures, cold and unwavering.

“You’ve never had my respect to begin with.” You bite back, maybe it was cruel, but it wasn’t untrue. You stopped, you didn’t call to fight over nothing. “I know that you gave Jack my address.” You tell her. “And don’t try to deny it, I know because he told me, right after he showed up demanding custody.”

“Jack? I’m not familiar with that name.” You mother says dismissively, as if you were telling her the weather or the time.

“Jack? Jack Birch? As in the guy who knocked your daughter up? Don’t tell me you forgot about him? That would be pretty embarrassing, especially considering the fact that you wanted me to marry him.”

“Oh him? Yes I remember him, he was a very nice man, husband material.” Your mother says, as if she’s trying to set you up with a boy from church like she used to.

“I’m sorry, are you deaf? Did you forget the part where he one, showed up at my door uninvited? With, might I add the address I gave you. And- “ You're cut off.

“If you didn’t want me giving out your address you should have just said something.”

“I should have said something? Me! Maybe you shouldn’t give out my home address to the asshole who impregnated me and ran!” You’re raising your voice now, unable to control the anger within your body.

“Honey, don’t you think you're overreacting?” Leave it to your mother to be patronizing as ever.

“I’m the one who’s overreacting? Don’t you think you're underreacting? I could lose custody of Stella because of you! And you’re telling me that I’m overreacting? God you’re so fucking full of it!” You feel like a teenager again as you argue with her.

“Don’t use God's name in vain, you’ll go to hell for that.” Is all that your mother has to say.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s what your focusing on? Seriously?”

“You know, it’s very hard to have a mature, adult conversation when someone isn’t acting like an adult.” Your mother says coldly.

“Ahh yes, someone”.

“Whatever, if you want to act like a petulant child, be my guest”. Your mother says, still in that patronizing tone.

“The only one here who's acting like a child is you”. It’s amazing really, how long you and your mother could go in circles, screaming at one another.

“Which is why you're the one raising her voice”.

“Just fucking admit it for fucks sake! I know you reached out to Jack and I know you gave him my address”. Your voice is rising with every minute and you're incredibly close to waking up Stella but you can’t just hold it in.

“Is it really that bad if I did? Stella doesn't have a father- ”You cut her off

“No, she doesn’t, she has me.”

“And that will never be enough! You know it, I know it, and your father knows it”. Your mother finally screams from her end.

Your mother was a cruel woman, unkind comments weren’t a rare occasion, and yet this was the worst thing she’s ever said to you, the worst thing anyone could say to you.

Tearing through the walls of yourself and ripping at your biggest insecurity, that you would never be enough for your daughter, that the family you gave Stella would never be enough.

“Stop pretending like you care about the well-being of my daughter, stop acting like you act in anyone else’s interest other than your own. Stop interfering with my life!” If Stella hadn’t already woken up to the sound of you yelling at your mother, she definitely would be up now.

“You are such a spoiled child, do you have any idea how much I’ve given up for you?” Your mother hisses back, as if you owed her for the life she gave you.

Your anger boils over and you explode at her.

“God dammit! You are such a narcissist bitch.”

And with that you hang up the phone and throw it across the room, your entire body vibrating with anger. You wanted to punch someone, or scream or both.

“Mommy?” It’s Stella’s voice, still sleepy, that cuts through your anger. You turn and sees your Stella standing in the doorway, lit up by the hallway light, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and clutching Ottie in her hand.

“Hi, sweet pea, did I wake you up? Momma’s sorry.” You tell her almost sheepishly. You hated the person you became around your mother and tonight was no exception. You lost your temper where Stella could hear you, and you felt like the worst mother in the world for it.

“Was yelling.” Stella says, climbing her way onto your bed, and practically falling into the soft covers.

“I know and I’m sorry baby, I promise it won’t happen again.” You say, the guilt makes you feel sick to your stomach.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like saying sorry, or had an overly difficult time in admitting fault, but when it came to your daughter it came at a great pain.

The idea that there were things that you would do, mistakes that you would make that would cause her pain or distress. That your little girl would stop seeing you as her hero, as someone who could fix everything and anything. It was a painful realization at first when you came to learn that you would never be a perfect mother.

“Why?”

You look down to see those big eyes, sleepy and curious, asking why you were yelling. Something you faced so much during your childhood, you swore Stella’s wouldn’t be like that.

You sigh and try to figure out how the hell to explain why you were yelling in a way that wasn’t too big, complicated or adult to explain.

“I was on the phone with someone who hurt me a lot, she said a lot of unkind things to me and it really hurt my feelings. And what do we do when we’re hurt or in pain?”

“We hurt others.” Stella responds, looking more alert and sitting up. You brush some hair behind her ears and smile sadly.

“Not always but when we get hurt sometimes we hurt others, and it’s not right but sometimes it happens. That’s what happened to mommy today, okay?” You ask, your fingers stroking her hair in a way that always soothes her.

“Are you going to say sowy?” Stella asks. This makes you still, your fingers stopping their movements. No, you weren’t going to apologize, your mother certainly didn’t deserve one.

“Yeah, I am”. You lie, and you hate it, hate lying unnecessarily to her. The lies you told your daughter were limited to those involving Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. But these lies, these lies you hated even if it was easier.

“Okay.” Stella says sleepily, burrowing down into your covers. You sigh, normally you’d let her stay and sleep curled up with you but tonight was different. Tonight you needed to be alone, to study, to cry maybe, and hopefully figure out what the hell you were going to do about Jack.

“Do you want me to carry you to your room?” You ask, rubbing her back before patting her bottom gently.

“Can’t stay?” Stella mumbles out, still burrowed into your covers, her little fists holding the sheets, unwilling to move.

“Not tonight, tomorrow I promise”, you tell her guilt at turning down her request for comfort in favor of your own needs, isn’t that what your own mother would do. Just the thought makes your insides turn inside out in discomfort.

“Pweas?”

Stella’s voice tended to develop more of a lisp when sleepy or upset, something that was unbelievably adorable and was very good at making you give jn to any requests made.

“Tomorrow, I promise, we can have a little sleepover, okay? We can eat snacks and watch a movie, just not tonight, I’m sorry baby.” It was painful, turning her away, because you knew one day she wouldn’t want to climb into bed with you and cling to you so tight. But you needed tonight for yourself, and however you decided to cope, you wanted to be alone for that.

“Pwomise?”

“I pinky promise.” You offer her your pinky, which she curls into your extending one.

“Okay.”

“Come on love bug, time for bed.” You pull her onto your chest before scooting out of bed, holding her tight and taking a deep inhale of that strawberry shampoo.

You walk the short distance to her bedroom, and place her on the bed gently, letting her crawl under the cover, snuggling into Ottie and the rest of her stuffed friends.

“Sweet dreams honey, I love you so much.” You tuck her into bed, kiss her forehead and pull the covers up under her chin.

“Love you too”.

You stay until she falls asleep, sitting on your knees and just watching her breathe, just like you did when she was just a baby.

When her breath evens out and she coos softly in her sleep you finally stand up, ready to leave, but before you do you give her one last kiss on her forehead.

“I promise I won’t let him take you away from me.”

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