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idk-what-i-stan · 4 months

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NATASHAS SONG

SUMMARY — what if melina and alexei ran away with natasha and yelena instead of going back to the red room? what if you fell in love with your childhood best friend with blue hair and a stubborn personality? she said, i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine, in the sky, the pretty lights

WARNINGS — mentions of child abuse, the red room, soft melina, firecracker yelena, domestic alexei who knows better then to go against his wife’s wishes, hurt/comfort, found family

For the first seven years of your life, yelling was a pretty normal thing. Your mother yelled from the minute her eyes opened to the very last second before they closed, and somewhere in between all that yelling, there was hitting. She never tried to be a mean person, but she was insecure and not at all ready for kids when she fell pregnant at nineteen and was kicked out of her parents house. The both of you kind of floated around for a little bit. Your father worked a couple of jobs, but never long enough to truly settle down someplace, and he was off on the road more times then he was home anyways. But when you moved to Ohio, something changed. Your mom was still mean, your arms were still bruised, but your spirit wasn’t so crushed. Maybe it had to do with a little blue haired girl and her firecracker sister who lived next door.

It was Spring when you moved to that small town in Ohio, barely a mile long and kids at every corner, all playing on bikes and old swing sets, laughing until the street lights came on and they were called inside for dinner. You hadn’t seen her at first, but two weeks later, she was outside on a bicycle, pedaling angrily down the hill. You watched from your front steps as her front tire got caught on a rock, and the wheels spun out before she could hit the breaks, sending her to the pavement in seconds that felt like minutes to you. She didn’t cry. That was the first thing you noticed. She just stood up, bleeding knee and elbow and all, and muttered words to herself that were incomprehensible because of the distance between you. You met her halfway, her bike being walked beside her and a limp just barely noticeable, like she was trying to hide the pain she was in.

“I saw you fall.” Your words made her blush. They were blunt, not offering any emotion that gave away if you were concerned or rather just amused by her mistake, but your tone was soft. It felt almost contradictory, like you cared but didn’t at the same time.

Her chest puffed outward, like a threatened puffer fish desperately trying to defend itself, and then the stubborn response fell from her lips, “I didn’t fall.”

You just stared at her for a second, wondering if she was being serious. Even if you hadn’t seen the entire event play by play, her knee and her elbow were still bleeding, and her bike was scrapped up. It was evident something had happened. “You did.”

“No I didn’t.” She got closer to your face, hands balling into fists. She didn’t like that you’d seen her so weak, and that you gave no indication of your feelings about it, and even more so that she couldn’t read you enough to decipher your emotions, but you didn’t see that. All you saw was an angry little girl with the same characteristics as your mother before she struck. Shrinking backward, you meekly pointed to your front steps, where your bottle of bubbles was abandoned.

“I have bandaids.”

She followed you back to the house silently, scratched up bike trailing beside her.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

The days progressed slowly after your first initial meeting. It was a mutual friendship between the both of you, even if she was stubborn and you were quiet. Yelena did the talking for the most part, directing you with what she wanted to play and how she wanted to do it. Everyday that your father was away from the house, your mother seemed to get more unbearable, and by the end of the first month in Ohio the house was littered with crushed beer cans, but Natasha and Yelena were your escape. You never said much, or anything really, but it worked for you three. Natasha was quiet as well, whether it was because of you, or that was just her, you weren’t really sure, but neither of you had any qualms about following the blonde toddler around and doing as she instructed.

Yelena's favorite game was something Natasha had named upside down. Not the most creative, but telling of the activity. Yelena would force the both of you into backbends, and then fall into one herself, doing everything she could to make you both fall down before she did. The winner got nothing but bragging rights util the next round, but it was enough for her. Natasha never fell, but you let Yelena think she was beating you each and every time. There was no way Natasha didn’t know what you were doing, but she never said anything. Not until one night, when you were upside down and the bottom of your shirt rose to just above your belly button from how much you’d been swaying. She was behind you, watching your every move with her usual stoic expression, but her face melted into concern when she noticed the bruises littering your otherwise unmarked by life skin. It was the first time you’d seen anything but indifference from her.

She fell from her backbend first, ignoring Yelena’s victorious chants and taunts. She pushed you out of yours, your butt landing in a patch of dead grass and dirt, almost certain there was an ant hill beneath your body. You looked up at her in pure shock, spluttering to find words but failing. “Why did you do that?” It was the only thing you could think to say. You had no idea your shirt had risen, no idea that a small fraction of your truth was now out in the open and not confined to your one-story house how you liked it.

“How did you get that bruise?” She was blunt, to the point, an exact replica of how you’d been on that first day. Your head tilted to the right, eyes searching your body and finding no exposed skin that would give her any indication that your body was severely bruised and aching beneath your clothes. “On your stomach. Your shirt came up, I saw it.”

You shook your head, standing on your own two feet so you didn’t feel so small beneath her. You already felt small enough. You already had no power. “It was probably just a shadow.”

“I know what a bruise looks like.” She rebutted, the same stubborn fire burning in her eyes that you’d never seen crack even once. There was a hint of something in them, something that wasn’t stubbornness, but there wasn’t enough to tell what it was. Her hands reached for the hem of your shirt, but you’d run off before she could find out for herself. You faintly heard Yelena yelling at her sister for ruining the game, but you didn’t look back, not even once.

That night, you had no idea that Natasha had gone to her mother, and told her about the inky purple discoloration around your belly button, and you wouldn’t for a few months afterward, but it didn’t matter. You spent the next two weeks inside, avoiding Natasha and Yelena and hoping that they’d forget about it when you saw them next. They never did.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

It was around Christmas time when your father finally came home for longer than a couple nights at a time. Things were better when he was around, your mother wasn’t so bold, and the drinking wasn’t as heavy, but things were still bad. Highschool sweethearts with an accidental pregnancy and very little money could only last so long without chaos, and it seemed that they had reached the end of their rope. It was Christmas Eve when the fighting got so loud you could hear it through your closed bedroom door, even with your pillow over your ears and your small, trembling hands holding it there. When your father stormed out after fights, it's when your mother came to find you, and even if things were better, you still ended up with bruises that you had to find a way to hide from Natasha and her inquisitive stare.

It was after midnight when you’d finally had enough, glass shattering against a wall somewhere in the living room. Your mother was throwing things again, and the closer it got to your bedroom, the less you felt welcome. You snuck out of the window, only grabbing your favorite stuffed animal before you were migrating into Natasha’s backyard, through a hole in the bottom of the fence that got bigger every time somebody crawled through it, and knocked on the sliding glass door meekly. Melina was awake, nursing a glass of red wine while Alexei wrapped presents that were probably from Santa. The christmas tree was still lit up with hundreds of multi-colored bulbs, and you could spy a few handmade ornaments on the bottom of the tree that had Yelena’s name messily sprawled across them.

Both heads snapped toward you, hands twitching like they were about to reach for something, but defenses dropped when they saw your tear stained face and bare feet. Your tattered princess pajamas were worn, and the wrist length sleeves only came past your elbows, and the ankle length pants only came past your knees. Illuminated by the yellow glow of the house, every bruise on your soft skin was visible.

“Y/N.” Melina could only whisper your name into the night, too startled by what she saw to say anything else. Her arms felt maternal around your midsection as she hugged you, but your nerves were too shot by the hours of endless fighting and violence to respond properly, or at all. It seemed you were right back to that all too quiet little girl Natasha had finally broken down.

You didn’t have to say why you were there. With the sliding glass door open, both Melina and Alexei could hear shattering glass and loud cusses that were so vulgar, even they winced. Melina ushered you inside, while Alexei grabbed cookies from the kitchen to hopefully entice your walls to drop down. They’d seen you playing with Natasha and Yelena, and how you had become carefree and silly, but the girl before them now was practically a ghost.

After a few cookies, which you sheepishly munched on, anticipating them to be taken from you at any moment, you couldn't stop yourself from yawning. Melina smiled warmly, her hand hadn’t left your back since she ushered you to the couch, insisting that you eat a few cookies before doing anything else, but now it rubbed your back so comfortingly and soft, you almost started crying all over again. “Natasha and Yelena’s room is just to the left down that hallway. I can walk you there. You should get some sleep.”

“Home.” It was the first thing you said, and Melina almost crumbled hearing how soft your trembling syllables came out. She hadn’t spoken to you directly, letting Natasha and Yelena have their relationships without meddling too far, but she fell in love with you instantly. She wondered how anyone could ever hurt you, but she knew all too well how evil the world could be. She didn’t need to dwell on the question for too long to know it was just how some people were.

“You’re not going home tonight.” There was something in her voice, a faint twist of words that didn’t sound entirely american, now you know why, but then, you’d just chalked it up to exhaustion. “The girls will be so happy to have you here tomorrow. Alexei plans on making cinnamon rolls for breakfast, does that sound nice?”

With how small you were, brittle bones visible in every nook and cranny of your small body, Melina figured you weren’t fed as often as you should be. The dips in your collarbone and notches in your back from the impression of your spine are an obvious tell of malnourishment, but she doesn’t say that to you. Even thirty years later, she’d never once brought it up if you didn’t lead the conversation, and you were eternally grateful.

You nod sheepishly, only standing from the couch when she does first. You're still holding the white porcelain plate that chocolate chip cookies were once on, looking like a deer in headlights as you awaited directions for what to do with the plate. Melina smiled warmly, and it was being taken from your hands before you could worry too much. “Alexei will wash that, he’s still got dishes from dinner to catch up on.”

“It is your night to do… Um, yes. I have so many dishes to do, I will do that now.” He fumbled over his words after Melina sent him a pointed look. Under different circumstances you would’ve giggled, but instead, you just nodded and let yourself be led deeper into the house, until you made it to Natasha and Yelena’s bedroom, where whispering was blatantly obvious, not to mention the faint glow of yellow light escaping beneath the gap in the door.

Melina knocked before she entered, visibly amused with how quickly Natasha had shut off her flashlight and Yelena had covered her head with a soft pink blanket. You only realized now how cold you were, no shoes on your feet and skin exposed to the brutal Ohio winter despite the heat in the house. “I know you're awake, big girl. It’s alright.” The tone she used with Natasha made your heart ache, but you ignored the jealousy. Natasha deserved to have good parents, you couldn’t change yours, so you’d just have to deal.

“Mama, it’s Christmas Eve. Santa’s gonna come!” Yelena breathed in one breath, giving away her fake sleeping though you suspected Melina already knew. Natasha held her breath, almost like she knew something sinister that Yelena didn’t, but Melina sent her a wink and then looked back to her youngest firecracker.

“Santa’s already been. You’ll see it all in the morning.” The twinkle in Melina’s voice was nice, something you could’ve melted into if you weren’t so distraught from what you’d ran away from just an hour prior.

Yelena gasped, looking between her big sister and her mother in amazement, “You saw Santa?!”

“Mhm, we had a lovely chat about cheeky little girls who try to catch him when they know the rules. He’s asked you don’t peek until morning when we can open them together.” Yelena nods dutifully, and something in Natasha’s face says that this is new to her, that maybe life isn’t always as perfect as this moment. It makes you feel better, to know that maybe your house isn’t the only one with flaws.

“Mama, why is Y/N here?” Yelena asks the question on both girls' minds, and you notice that Natasha’s back straightens and she really takes in your appearance, trying not to let you see how she’s analyzing every bruise on your body.

“She’s going to be sleeping over. Why don’t you pull out your favorite pair of jammies for her, yes? These are a bit small.” You want to protest, and say that you’re okay, but Melina puts a hand on your shoulder like she can read your mind, and it silences any attempt you would’ve made to say that you're okay as you are.

Yelena races to hand you a pair of purple pajamas with ponies on the top. You recognize the characters from a few of her outside clothes, Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle the ones occupying this pair. “She can sleep in my bed with me, Mama.” Natasha offers, and Melina praises her for her generosity before she’s ushering you into a bathroom just two doors down from the bedroom.

“May I help you, Y/N? I want to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need cleaning.” Melina lifts you onto the counter, not really waiting for you to agree, because she has a feeling you will anyway. The desperate desire to please her breaks her spirit a bit, but she doesn’t let you see that.

“No cuts.” You tell her, voice so quiet it's almost entirely drowned out by the overhead fan that’s intended to suck the moisture from the air when the shower is going. Melina hums, but she undresses you anyway, keeping her composure just barely as she sees all of the bruises that hide beneath the tattered fabric of your princess pajamas. “These are my favorite ones.” You don’t tell her they’re your only ones, because it doesn’t really matter, they were a gift for your fourth birthday, and despite the tight fit and holes, they were your absolute favorite.

“We’ll get you new ones.” It’s a promise, but you don’t say anything, you have a feeling it doesn’t matter if you protest, you’ll be getting new princess pajamas either way, and being defiant with somebody who is only trying to help you isn’t why you ran over here. You just nod weakly, letting Melina inspect your bruises and avoiding eye contact at all cost. “Yelena’s might be a bit big on you, she’s quite a few inches taller. How old are you, sweetheart?” There’s a word on the tip of her tongue that she doesn’t say, but you don’t think anything of it. Later, a few years down the line, you’ll know that she intended on calling you a russian pet name, but for now, you just excuse her odd behavior and accent as exhaustion on both your parts.

“Seven.” You hold up seven fingers, the first sign of a little girl you show her. Her Yelena does the same any time she’s asked her age, holding up three fingers proudly, but always following up with how she’s going to be four soon. It’s an endearing habit that Natasha was never conditioned to adhere to, but Melina wishes she was. Melina wishes so much for Natasha, but being a widow had come first for so long.

“Just a few years younger than Natasha.” Melina makes conversation, although you’re already aware that your friend is nine, almost ten. You appreciate the conversation, even if you're reluctant in joining it. “I’ve seen you climb that tree in the backyard. Yelena wants to be just like you, but she’s a bit sheepish when it comes to heights.”

Your eyes sparkle like the stars that shine overhead in the sky when no clouds are present, and its so endearing that Melina almost cries. “Really? Like me?”

“My girls are quite fond of you, and I can see why. Now, stay put while I grab a wash towel, okay? These feet are awfully dirty.” Melina traces a finger along the soul of your foot, and you wiggle away from the ticklish sensation with a shy grin. She’s back in only seconds, with a washcloth that also has the same ponies on it as the shirt she’s folded and placed on the counter beside you. “Yelena’s quite fond of My Little Pony, I hope these are okay for the night.”

You nod, not bothered by what design is on the clothes you’ve been given, just appreciative that you won't be so cold and exposed anymore. “You won’t tell, right? Mommy doesn’t mean to be mean, she’s just sad.”

Melina hates how gentle your heart is, how easy you are at forgiving her for hurting you, she tells Natasha so often to protect her heart, to not let Dreykov take it, but she wishes you would protect yourself. To realize how you're being treated isn’t what you deserve. She kisses your head when you're standing in front of her, feet clean and My Little Pony pajamas swimming on your frail body. You just look at her, with wide innocent eyes that are screaming for this kind of affection from your own parents.

Melina falls in love with you that night, and that house becomes your home for the next year.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

You’re eight when everything changes. Your father had left for good a few months before everything changed, packing up all of his things and kissing your head before he pulled out of the driveway like a bat out of hell and left you alone with your mother. You hadn’t seen him since, and the bad things had only gotten worse, but you’re able to hide it from everyone but Natasha and Melina. Alexei notices too, but he seems to notice your apprehension toward him, and lets his wife handle you mostly. He takes no offense, always offering you cookies when you sneak over in the middle of the night, and picking up treats for you in mind when he’s coming back from a day at the office. You feel a part of the family, and they’re all willing to welcome you.

It’s nine in the evening when you hear the whistle. You and Natasha had decided that you needed a secret code a few months ago, when she knocked on the door to ask if you could play and nobody answered. When you heard it that night, your mother had just finished taunting you, tearing apart a pair of pajamas Melina had purchased, and was now locked in her bedroom with a bottle of beer while you wept in the corner of your bedroom. Natasha had whistled, and a few minutes later you immersed on the porch with red rimmed eyes and the remnants of what was once a yellow set of jammies in your hands. Natasha didn’t ask, she already knew, but she didn’t have time to comfort you.

“We’re leaving. Mama wants you to come. Pack a bag and be outside in five minutes, Papa’s packing the car. We’re spies.” You just looked at her, unsure of if she was joking, but Natasha never joked. She was always serious, always stubborn, always telling the truth because she had no time for lies to fall apart in her hands. You admired that, because Yelena loved to spin lies into truths and confuse everyone with what actually happened.

You did as she asked, throwing the new princess pajamas into a backpack as well as a few outfits and your favorite stuffed animal. You didn’t need anything else, mostly because you didn’t have anything else. The tube of bubbles your mother had bought for you when you first moved to Ohio had run out, and nothing had been bought to replace them. All you had was a few pairs of pajamas and a couple outfits, all bought by Melina after she noticed your slim to none selection of clothing.

You met Natasha outside like she asked, and took one final look at that house before getting in the car, not knowing that you would never see it, or your mother, again.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

When you were fifteen and Natasha was sixteen, just a few days shy of her birthday, something changed between you. You're not sure when or how, but nothing was the same after that night, things only got better. You were somewhere in upstate New York, the fourth time you had moved that year, when you noticed how simple she looked beneath the moonlight. Her hair was no longer blue, but instead, her natural deep crimson color and tossed into a ponytail messily. It was slipping down from everything you’d done that day, but she didn’t fix it, just let a few wavy strands fall in front of her eyes without care. She wasn’t a fan of makeup, so her freckles were on full display as she looked at you, and as she leaned in closer, so close you could feel her exhale against your lips, so close, it felt like she was the only person in the world, and that was okay with you. You kissed that night, beneath the moonlight and the stars, and it was like everything that was ever out of place had finally fit together, like you had finally completed an old puzzle.

Melina and Alexei had seen the entire thing play out. The house was two stories, one of the bigger ones you’d been in since leaving Ohio behind, and the back porch overlooked a treehouse in the backyard. You spent almost all of your time in the treehouse, and while Yelena was out exploring the town, you and Natasha had settled into your favorite hideaway while Melina and Alexei nursed glasses of red. Neither were surprised, and neither questioned you when you finally came back inside with flushed cheeks and a sprinkle of something new in your eyes, just smiled at each other and placed a bet on how long it would take for you both to realize you’d been in love since that first night in Ohio with bandaids and scratched bikes.

You got married at twenty-three and twenty-five, and Alexei owed Melina twenty bucks, and all you did was laugh, and pop a bottle of champagne, and thank Ohio for the life it had given you.

#natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #fic rec

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